Magnetic Poetry for Blogs

I was never big into magnetic poetry. I liked it well enough when it first came out in the 80s but after I had it sitting on my fridge for a year, making pretentious undergraduate whiffle about clouds and other ephemera, it plum got on my tits and I got rid of it.

But I rather dig this silly site called wordle.net. Feed it your url and it turns your site into a sort of instant magnetic poetry. Check it:I love how this represents the Crabmommy in mostly accurate ways, though I definitely think "diss" should be bigger than "domestic" in my word picture. I do enjoy how "bloody" and "piggy" sit next to each other and I like that some of my fave words/most pronounced personal traits have indeed made it into the wordmap of my head; i.e., "appalling and "cheapo." I also like the placement of "disgusted" adjacent to "chirpier"(though "disgusted" is bigger and RIGHTLY SO)! Ditto "born astonishing." Why thank you very much, wordle, my friend. Perhaps my most favorite is the random "Amy" that appeared every time I did versions of this picture.

Go check it out: http://www.wordle.net/

What does yours say about you?

Swagilicious! Crabby's fabby loot!

Still looking for Xmas/ Kwanzaa/ Hanukkah/Festivus prezzies for the loved ones? Perchance I can help!

I spent what felt like 100 hours scouring Etsy for my best $20 and under holiday present picks. Etsy truly is the store of my cheapmommy heart, but it takes a discerning Crabacious eye to sift through some of the MONUMENTALLY ugly stuff up there and find you the treasures. But I did it. Because I'm cool like that.

My fave is probably this "girl with hula hoop" stationery, which is personalized by color and name of your choice and is sweet for a girl or a mom. Go to the bloglet for more, and for a discount on the stationery if you order by Dec 15. Click along, then!

How to Make a Tampon Wiener...At Last!

As you know, Crabmommy adores a cheap craft activity with Crabtot. Well, actually Crabmommy just adores cheapness in general, for she is the Cheapmommy!

As you may also know, Crabmommy was once inspired to make the tampon wiener you see in the icon on the right. You see, Crabtot's Gammy has a white wiener dog named Gertie, so we decided to pay homage to Gertie with, what else?...a tampon!

I have received many requests for instructions on making this tampon wiener, for it is clearly a charming and easy and attractive and CHEAP activity to do with your tot (if I do say so myself). But you also know me as a lazymommy and a technologically-handicapped mommy, so the instructions have been slow in coming. I also visualized the tamp-dog icon on the right spinning on a sort of a rotating cube thing of my many cheapmommy craft designs, and when you click on one, you link through to directions. Alas, my blog template and my utter laziness have prevented this from becoming a reality. Therefore, in longhand, and at long last, and on popular demand...

A Tampon Wiener in 6 Easy Steps:

You will need: 1 tampon, white playdoh (or other color of your choice), matchsticks/pipe cleaners

Directions:
1. Select a tampon, open it up and pull string to make the wiener body and tail.
2.Model a white playdoh head into a pointy doglike shape and insert cranium-side into tampon tube.
3. Pinch off bits of play-doh and work into shell-like ear-shapes. I must admit, I'm quite good at this. Mold clay onto cranium for dog ears. If this isn't going well, use a matchstick or toddler fork to smooth the ears onto the head firmly.
4. Poke 4 holes in wiener-body undercarriage, wide apart but symmetrical in the manner of sausage-dog legs.
5. Cut matchsticks/pipe cleaner in even lengths (not too long—these dachshunds have short legs, remember!) and insert into the holes. You may have to wiggle to get the angle right for standing.
6. When play-doh is dry, draw eyes and mouth with Sharpie.
*Note: Decorating your dog: you can also add dots or other assorted colorations to the tamp-tube as you see fit. If realism isn't your bag, sequins would be an interesting addition if you are going with a sort of drag-queen glam-dog motif. If you're going to get fancy on the decorating, do it before doing head or legs —right after Step 1, to ensure that tot's chubby fingers don't knock head or legs off in the decorating process.

Presto! Tampon wiener!
If tampon wieners whet your appetite for tampon art in general, you can certainly progress to other tamp-art. I can easily see a sheep...a poodle...some fetching Xmas decorations (especially when dunked in water containing red or green food coloring, and then dried and sprinkled with glitter). Tampons make excellent resources for crafty moms.

Enjoy! And please do report back when you try it.

p.s. a pic of the Dollar store mystery prize (won by Char) is to come. And please stay tuned for more Mommy-related musings of a crabby nature. Meantime, Monday at the bloglet, musings on how I am a Mommy by day but after dark, I become The Night Momster. Also on Wednesday the 26th, please check the bloglet for a sentimental, gushy birthday newsletter to Crabtot...not. This one is going to be controversial, folks. Whooooooooooooooooooo!

Ask Crabmommy, Part One: The Listening Chart

Because I am inundated by your requests for my advice, I thought I would start this new regular thing called Ask Crabmommy. If you have a question, feel free to continue to email me constantly at witchycrab at yahoo dot com.

Here's a good one to inaugurate the column:

Dear Crabmom,
My daughter just won't listen. I try to do Time Outs and all that Sears/ Modern Parenting crap but I still end up walloping the tot and then I feel so bad. We all know spanking is wrong and that it doesn't really work. Can you help?
Still Slappin'

Hi, Still Slappin'. Obviously you haven't been reading my blog very long or else you'd have seen that I, too, occasionally Slap 'Em To Sleep® . Or when awake. But sigh...like you, it does induce feelings of guilt in me. And as you mentioned, it plum doesn't work in terms of behavior modification. Here's another route that I like to call The Listening Chart®. Thought up by none other than C-mom. (Let's keep the credit where it's due. Right here. Meaning I need for you to put a little ® somewhere on your Listening Chart®, kay? Thanks!)

Right. Here goes. The Listening Chart®.

Instructions:

1. Go to Dollar Store if you are a cheapmom, or Staples will also do.
2. Buy 1 piece of posterboard, preferably in orange if that is the color with which your tot is obsessed. (And you can read all about that on my Cookieblog today.)
3. Shame on you, Crabmom. We are all so SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR ENDLESS BLOODY PLUGGING FOR THAT STUPID BLOGLET.
4. Get out of my list, whoever you are. I am trying to write serious advice here.
5. Purchase giant roll of Motivational Stickers from Dollar Store (gold and silver stars will also work, as will sundry other stickers, or if that doesn't thrill your wee one, Singorillo Bandaids are fine. Whatever floats her boat).
6. Come home. Have a G&T or a fudge cake or something as a treat to gear up for such an audaciously dull activity as what follows.
7. Get a ruler, a Sharpie and make Mon-Sun columns down your chart.
8. Why is your Sunday column so teeny? You can't measure, you loser. Turn the poster over and start again.
9. Oh, sorry. I mean, before the columns, give your chart a catchy title: Taylor's Listening Chart or Lulu-Belle's I'm a Good Girl Chart. (And you, know if you use my LC term, please do me the respect of giving it the little ® we discussed earlier.)
10. This is the hard bit. Try to categorize the things she repeatedly disobeys you on. This is hard, right? I mean the tyke bloody never listens. So now I am expected to chart this stuff? Seriously, narrow it down or you'll be here all night and there will be no room for stickers.
11. So you have, say, 5 things each day that little Robitussin or Chantaglia does that really tweak your vibe. It's the refusal to clean teeth. It's the not wanting to wash face. It's the no quiet time. It's the smoking crack in the house.
12. Now come up with little pictographs for the chart to indicate these things, so you can show young Amaranthia the little toothbrush and say, "When I say,'brush your teeth' and you listen, you get a listening sticker right here."

You get the rest. When tiny impish Shampiqua sees that Listening means a Listening Sticker on the Listening Chart she will get very, very excited. She will listen her heart out. She will be such a very good listener. And you will stop smacking. And everyone will be hugging and sticking stickers and listening 'til their ears fall off.

For exactly one day.

And then, it will all go up in a puff of smoke, my friend. The motivational stickers will lose their sticky allure and young Harlequina will tell you that word you haven't heard for 24 hours. That two-letter word. NO. No to the clever Crabmom's Listening Chart. No to the teeth-cleaning, the cleanup of toys, the not scribbling with orange marker on the door.

She will say no.

And you will smack her.

And the Listening Chart, it will go the way of all things in this life.

LC, R.I.P.

Seriously, I tried my best, people. But after working so hard on the LC and hearing all those NOs today a mere day after finding the stupid motivational stickers that I had to search so hard for in the godforsaken dollar store (cuz stickers are of course sandwiched between fliplops from Thailand and bulk barrels of dishsoap)...after all that, I just lost it. I smacked. It hurt. She cried. I felt good. I felt bad. And so tomorrow, we try again the path of non-violence and hope that this time something will stick. But not stickers. They don't work in this house.

Okay. So I hope that helps you, um, Still Slappin' Mommy. Always glad to be of service! Please everyone, do email me pronto with more questions! Love to give of my wisdom!

Goodnight Mosh: Sleeping en Famille Part 2

Okay. So you know I just wanted to use my alternative title, Goodnight Mosh, for those poor peeps moshing in their Manhattan beds.

But I do have something to add. Right when I was posting my advice about removing those poor little Manhattanites from their cavernous rooms and stuffing them into cozy closets instead, my own Crabtot (who refuses to nap but is meant to have quiet time in her room at lunch) fell asleep IN HER CLOSET. I kid you not.

I am telling you, the Crabmommy Sleep Methods work, people.

Goodnight Nobody

Family beds are for ninnies.

I am not talking about the willing co-sleeping arrangement (which is also for ninnies), I am talking about the NY Times piece today about the many reluctant co-sleepers, i.e., exhausted, peeved parents who still can’t get their much-too-old mites to stay in their bloody beds and thus the poor mom and dad sleep in a nest of small-people who spin around and -- as one parent described -- pluck out the chest-hairs of dad. A signature sleep move, indeed.

Yes, sleeping with your kids is apparently a commonplace nightmare:
http://news.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/02/28/whose-bed-is-it-anyway/

Check it out. It is not only interesting on the sleep side of things but also quite fascinating to learn about the volleys of chicks making money as big-time sleep consultants in NY and LA. Like the director of Soho Parenting (what a name) who is also Pat the Bunny’s granddaughter.

Back to the ninny-point, from which I segued. Why, if only these parents would learn from my blog they might not have to pony up all that cashola to Pat the Bunny's granddaughter. Maybe if I continue blogging about my patented method, Slap Them to Sleep (trademark –dunno how to do the nifty TM sign on this crap keyboard, but picture it), I too can make a mint. And maybe I could actually help some of these families....Slap Them to Sleep TM is cheaper than Soho Parenting’s Pat Them To Sleep in Your Big Family Bed techniques (ok, I haven’t a clue what they do at Soho Parenting, but stay with me). And while Soho Parenting may well have its own array of nifty sleep strategies, at least at Crabmommy’s Wyoming School of Sleep we don’t incorporate something called a “sleeping pallet” into the family bedroom.

When you read the article, zoom in on the kids’ bedrooms in these Manhattan family homes. In particular, check out the giant pink palace with princess bed, larger than most apartments. But kinda scary for a kid to be in such a gigantic room, I say. Maybe that’s why they need the comfort of Mom and Dad. Perhaps the solution is just pop the child into the coat closet and make that the new bedroom, or a bureau-drawer, Kramer-style…

Ahhhh just come to me with your insomniac children, people. CLEARLY I know what I am taking about. Soho, bring me your tired, your weary parents and their spinning, chest-hair-plucking spawn and I shall solve all. Leave your sleep pallet at home. You won’t be needing it.

The Cure for Whining

I cannot tolerate whining. From children.

In my opinion only mothers should be allowed to whine. Our voices are (generally) deeper and our reasons for whining (always) more compelling. And as you know, I love a good whine. I try to whine about something at least twice a day, and indeed, I think mothers should be encouraged to whine whether it comes naturally to them or not. But children can and should be trained not to. Especially if they live in Wyoming and have rural western accents at age two. Rural western accent+carping/whinnying =appalling din.

Many of you -- sensing that I know what I am doing when it comes to dealing with toddlers -- have asked me to share my secret method for stopping the small people from making that infernal noise, like a permanent mosquito in Mama’s ear. Since we are always eager to share in our house, I am only too happy to tell you what it is I do to stop Crabtot from whining. In 3 Simple Steps.

Step 1: So easy, but can diminish in efficacy over time. Pretend you do not understand when tot speaks in squeaky mewling syllables, when she draws out the pleas in a warbling whinge, inventing vowels where none exist like a tiny R&B singer only without tune. Tell your little pest she is speaking a language you do not understand. Or tell her when she speaks like that your ears can’t hear.

Step 2: Drown them out with whiny pop music. This is extremely effective. On the whiny-music front, well there is so much to choose from, whiny richness abounding. Try Cocorosie, for example. They are exceptionally whiny half-Cherokee twins who recorded their first album in their bathtub in Paris. La Maison de Mon Reve is the album. They sound like strangled kittens. It’s really good. If you prefer your whining from men, pick men who want to be women, like Antony of Antony and the Johnsons. I Am A Bird Now, in which he bleats in falsetto about boys who yearn to be girls, is a far more melodic, poignant, and cerebral alternative to the wee one’s feeble but insistent chanting for snacks. If you prefer more of a low moan than a soprano whine then the British world is your oyster. Fine dour men abound in the UK, ranting and mumbling their sour stories and complaints in great variety. Tindersticks is my favorite. Stateside, Smog is pretty good for that sort of thing, especially the album Red Apple Falls where he gets all maudlin and hysterical about widows and fruit and horses. I have plenty recs should you need more. But I’d wager that one round of the squeaky chicks in their squeaky French tub and your needy squeaker will be shocked into silence.

Step 3: Oh, you know this one from the last post. Just spank it!

You will be amazed at the terrific results that come of curbing tot-whining from my 3 Simple Steps. Once you start, a marked improvement is guaranteed within one month or I shall send you a bottle of “cinnamon-toast-flavored” syrup from Kelloggs, which I have in my basement. (That’s right. Don’t ask me how it got there, just ask yourself why you would want a syrup for your cinnamon toast that is ITSELF cinnamon toast flavored. A sort of meta-syrup.) Also do not hesitate to try and drown out weird whine-oriented toddler pronunciation, such as “Deeeeedy” for Daddy and “You make me seeead” for “You make me sad.” I know it sounds mean, but it’s a proven fact that correcting pronunciation in the first three years of life can reduce whine output by 62%.

Warning: Don’t tell her “You’re driving me insane.” For she will simply take that one and fling it back to you whenever you drive them insane. Sometimes with a term of endearment attached, because some small people mistake terms of endearment for insults, viz. “You’re driving me insane, HONEY!”

Best of luck! And please do send me any additional Whine Management tips you think would help.

Spank My Baby One More Time

Britney is on everyone’s lips with her poor little weird head and antics but I don’t really have anything to say about Britney, I just gave my header a flavor of Brit to show that I am aware of misbehaving moms, whoever and wherever they may be.

But what I really wanted to mention is that California has decided to drop its move to make spanking one’s kids illegal, viz. http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070223/ap_on_re_us/spanking_bill
Yay! Now I can move to California, which is one of the dreams I indulge in from time to time here in Wyoming. For a while, though, my dream was put aside what with Assemblywoman Sally Lieber and Arnie Schwarzenegger letting me know that tot-spanking would land my sorry bum in jail (where IT would likely be spanked by a big bay area dyke with keychain hanging off her jeans, no?).

WEAK HAND-FLAPS THAT DON’T DO MUCH OF ANYTHING
I admit it. Sometimes I spank Astrid. I am a Spankmommy. Do I “believe” in spanking? I don’t. I also don’t believe in wearing purple robes (or purple anything); nor do I believe in being mean to one’s really fantastic breadwinner husband; nor do I believe in eating lunch standing up, but these are all things that I do. And there are moments when I have and do spank Astrid, albeit not very effectively, with light taps on inward-arcing diapered bottom –the sort of weak hand-flaps that don’t do much of anything. But occasionally I slap a bare leg to sting. Occasionally I slap and mean it.

SPANK-WORTHY SCENARIOS
1.making as if to run in the road. = hard spank on leg. We live right on the road and this sort of spanking is when I feel no pain about inflicting pain.
Spanking scenario #2: we are having terrible trouble and have been for months with getting A to go to bed and stay in bed. We have tried it all: we plead, shout, reward, punish by taking things away (such as precious indispensable Baby Tony), cajole, soothe, and on and on and on it goes, night after night, out she comes, over and over and twenty times over…smiling, walking, crawling out of her bedroom. She is trying to break us. We know this. We know that one is meant to put them back in the bed without making eye contact even if that means doing it 20 times a night for two months. But we lose it often. And then one of us spanks. C’est ca. That is apparently who we are as parents, Michael and I. Other spanking scenes: sliding on ice in grocery parking lot, clutching baby who is hitting me in the face. This phase has thankfully come and gone, but when you are boiling in your winter jacket and your tot is doing a weird j-move under your arm, about to kill herself and you, you might just be like me and…lose your temper. Or as we say in South Africa, you give a "blimming good hiding."

Back to the proposed smacking ban of Sally Lieber, and Arnold Schwarzenegger who apparently supported it: I understand the root of the law is to protect abused children from their abusive belt-walloping moms and dads, but when I hear "California to Ban Spanking," I am sorry, it just makes my hand itch. I want to paddle somebody’s bottom. Like being in a no-smoking bar makes me IMMEDIATELY wish to smoke two cigarettes at the same time, like Bill Murray on the diving board in Rushmore. And especially with regard to Arnie, if I were him, I too would not spank my kids. I wouldn’t need to. Just looking at Dad if dad is Arnold Schw. must surely be akin to being spanked, given that Dad is the Terminator.

MANDATORY SPANKING IN CALIFORNIA
But frankly, I am relieved that the law isn’t going to go through, and not just because I like to think I will be welcome in San Francisco. It’s because I think pretty much everyone in California could use a good spanking, including silly governors and assemblypeeps. Come on, Californians need to be spanked. They ask for it. And we all know what they are like when they don’t get it. In fact I think they should make a law that says that everyone in California should be spanked at least once. Mandatory spanking in California. Because California may be cool and great and beautiful and full of wise tolerant people and organic farming and so forth, but I think a little tiny slap or two is just the ticket to balance everyone out and make the place yin-yang perfect.

Anyhoo, I am just glad that now I don’t have to love Wyoming again. Babyslapper that I am, I can go back to my fantasies about heading westward to cool cities where people actually listen to music as opposed to turning on the satellite TV for music -- and don’t go out to evening dinners in puffy pink Cloudveil "shells" (light skiwear, for those who aren’t in the know).

SOMETIMES TODDLERS ARE VERY SELF-CONTROLLED
Okay. So tongue out of cheek for a moment. Do I think I am a good parent for spanking Astrid on those nights when I do? I feel horrible. I know I am setting a double-standard. I tell her we don’t hit our friends or our mommies but Mommy can sometimes hit Astrid. Even though it makes Mommy “berry berry sad” (yes, I’m one of those who talk to them as they talk to me). But the truth is, while I know I am being a bit shite in this arena of child-rearing it all comes back to the lazy impatient self that I am. I have not evolved as a mom, at least not yet. I just can’t do what Astrid is asking of me; namely, resist the urge to deal with her in the short-term, which will in turn have long-term benefits. But I am a short-term type. Whereas Astrid is all about patience and control and self-discipline, even though she is only two. Witness how she deals with her treats: she gets one gummi bear every day for potty-related matters. She receives it, sniffs it, then tucks it into her hot little fist for HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS. Sometimes she nests it between her toes. Or puts the gummi beneath a tiny scrap of fabric and lets it take a nap. Does she eat it? Eventually, when we tell her we will either take it or she must eat it because it is time to clean teeth.

As for me, I am the opposite. If there are gummi bears around I will eat the whole bag instantly in one sitting, even if my teeth-holes hurt (and they always do); even if my jaw sort of locks and I feel ill. In they go. On and on.

Thusly do I conclude, with irony: sometimes toddlers are very self-controlled and deliberate and and sometimes their moms are the opposite. What to do when one’s toddler is very self-controlled? Why, whack her apparently, you out-of-control momster! And that's where we are, in this house. On a bad night, we go through the motions of trying to solve problems non-violently until Mom or Dad snaps. The toddler gets spanked. Everyone is berry sad. Then we all go to sleep and hope that tomorrow will be a better day.