May 16, 2008
It’s Sweeping The Nation
Is your third-grader hanging a paper clip on his earlobe and wearing it all day at school? No? Well, then, I’m sorry to tell you that he is completely out of touch with the latest fashion craze, started by one of my own sons, Drew Glamore.
Drew has always been ahead of the latest trend, as you can see here:
No other three-year-old thought of wearing his cow-patterned pants every day until they evolved into cunning capris. Tres vogue!
Five years later, Drew still has his finger on the pulse of the latest fad. All you need for this style is a colored plastic paper clip:
preferably in a color that coordinates with your outfit.
Squeeze the paper clip on to your ear and voila! You’re ready for a day at school, and the ladies will be mighty impressed.
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Three years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Don’t Listen To The Penis
May 13, 2008
Smooch On Over
If you don’t live nearby, you may not know that I also write for Lipstick magazine. Why don’t you mosey over there and see what I had to say about my boys’ taste in music?
Click the link and then click on “Soulja Mom.”
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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: In Which Bill Is Assaulted By Hyperbole
May 9, 2008
Wallowing in Awesome
Urine sprinkles on the floor. Smelly cleats. Towels strewn about the bathroom. Boys looking for “lost” items, like the copy of Diary of a Wimpy Kid
that’s in the middle of the floor. I almost fell over it.
The endless runs to Publix. The five gallons of milk per week. The chopping, peeling, sauteeing, baking and stirring, followed by, “What are these little green things in here?”
The pants that fit a month ago that now come to the top of the ankles, and then only if they are pulled precariously low on the waist. The shirts stained with blood, bleach, paint, grass and mysterious substances.
The reminders. “Did you brush your teeth? Is your retainer in? Did you feed the bird? Are the dirty clothes in the laundry hamper? When that dog dies of starvation, you’ll be the one crying, not me.”
The threats. “If you don’t eat that sliver of Brussels sprout you won’t see a scoop of ice cream until 2012. When I say put the clothes in the dryer, I don’t mean next week, I mean NOW. Do I look like a zookeeper? You feed the animals, not me. If I hear anymore arguing about computers, I’m going to slap all of you upside the head and lock you outside!”
It sounds like misery. Sometimes it is.
But then, when you’re about to run away from the lack of gratitude, you paw through a pile of school papers and find a gem that somehow makes it all worthwhile.
Hey Porter– you rock, too.
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Two years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: The Other Mrs. Glamore
Posted by Anne Glamore @
8:43 am •
Deep Thoughts •
Stumble it!
May 7, 2008
You Can Read Me Now
In print! In a book!
I’ve never hidden the fact that I originally began blogging as a way to discipline myself to write on a regular basis. My hope was that my writing would improve and I’d get some exposure. Maybe I’d even get published.
Three and a half years (and over 400 columns later) I can see some results. I wrote essays twice a week from October 2005 to October 2006 for iVillage. (Those essays are in the archives.) I’ve been writing columns for magazines, including the recently launched Lipstick magazine here in Birmingham. I’ve been asked to speak to groups about blogging and parenting.
Now I’m dancing on air. My essay “I Love You Like The Crazy You Drive Me” was chosen for inclusion in The Mothering Heights Manual for Motherhood Volume 1
. In fact, my essay is the first essay in the book. This is strangely satisfying, because I’ve never been first anywhere else (except the fifth grade spelling bee, where I successfully spelled “linoleum” to seize the prize from my oldest friend).
The book is a collection of hilarious and poignant essays about motherhood. Amazon is taking pre-orders for the book, and if you’re local I have a few copies myself.
The Amazon site does not have any pictures, but I have taken a picture of the cover and my submission, in case you think I’m shitting you about this:
My essay starts with the time Finn messed with my laundry system, meanders into a Dolly Parton reference, and goes on to discuss fire, da Vinci, and sex.
When I turned it in I also mentioned Led Zeppelin, but this is the real deal and an editor got hold of it and used her red pen. While Dolly stayed, “Black Dog” had to go.
Here’s a review of the book. Bet you can’t guess the parakeet that’s mentioned.
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One year ago on My Tiny Kingdom: My Wild & Crazy Guys
Posted by Anne Glamore @
10:31 am •
Book Reviews •
Stumble it!
May 5, 2008
Crawfish Boil: Hot!
We’re all about music festivals, so Saturday our family headed downtown to the Crawfish Boil and saw Flo Rida, Gavin deGraw, and Fergie.
I don’t know that I’ve discussed the rap music phenomenon since I published the video of Drew and me trying to do the Soulja Boy dance. In a word, Finn continues to listen to this stuff and Bill and I can barely understand any of it. Earlier this year we persuaded Finn that we were both worthy and capable of learning the chorus to Flo Roda’s hit “Low.” Finn was doubtful but indulged us.
Once we got to the festival, I felt a surge of coolness that at forty-one I was able to sing “Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was lookin’ at her” along with the rest of the crowd.
Flo Rida looks pensive, almost beatific in this photo. Don’t let that fool you for a second. At one point he scaled the scaffolding on the side of the stage while he sang, and his jeans sagged way below his cheeks in the back. On the up side, his underwear was sparkling clean. Still, it didn’t seem possible that he’d be able to dance and sing without revealing his family jewels. I was sore afraid, as I have only two hands but was responsible for six young pairs of eyes that would need to be covered in such an event.
Here’s a picture I found that shows this strange fashion statement.
I knew people were sagging, but this was a new low for me. (Thanks to al.com for the picture.)
I’d heard the name Gavin DeGraw before, and I pegged as for a country singer. Maybe he’d smooched Carrie Underwood a time or two.
Actually, he’s a singer songwriter with an edge, and you’ve heard his song “I Don’t Want To Be.” (caution: sound link!) He’s also quite the cutie, and if I were Carrie Underwood I’d be smooching him. He pounded the piano and sang and put on the type of show that makes you want to run buy the CD.
(If he can’t decide what to get his Mom for Mother’s Day, I have the perfect idea: the necklace he’s wearing in this picture. Big necklaces are back in for women, and he’d look much cooler without it.)
But my family’s aching buns can only be attributed to Fergie. She was full of energy, had awesome dancers, and had a charming personality when she talked to the crowd between songs. She was so enchanting, in fact, that when she sang “Big Girls Don’t Cry” I was able to ignore the horrifying subject/possessive pronoun disagreement in the line “and I’m gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket.” I even sang along. Nor did I shudder when she spelled tasty “T-A-S-T-E-Y” in her hit “Fergalicious.” She gets an A+ for showmanship because I’m the biggest grammar geek around.
Fergie wore three different outfits during her set. One showed her impressive abs, like this:
except that it was white.
For her hard rocking set she wore the same outfit she wore on American Idol a couple of weeks ago.
No one was more thrilled than Bill when she sang “Barracuda,” crawling all over the stage, and throwing in a couple of cartwheels to prove she’s not pregnant.
Fergie was highly amused that a city would plan a music festival around crawfish, but that’s what we do down here.
How much crawfish will Drew and Porter eat?
We don’t know. We ran out of money long before we were able to make that determination.
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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: My boys reviewed the 2007 Festival, which featured the Spin Doctors, Akon and Hinder. Their thoughts are here.
