Archive | July 2010

Potty Training, Potty Mouth & Preschool

Ray started back to preschool yesterday.  He was sooo excited when I picked him up: “I went to school today. I go again! Can I go again? I went to school today,…” He grabbed my hand, took me over to his backpack and showed me all the papers stuffed inside. Papers for me to fill out. SIGH. But he’s happy happy happy now that he is back in school.

Talked with his teacher about the state of potty training. He still won’t go on his own. We’ve tried bribery. We’ve tried praise. It just won’t take. I’m out of ideas. Right now his potty training is an adult remembering that he needs to go every so often. And poo? Don’t even think about it. He gets hysterical if he can’t run in the room and hide to do it.  There’s nothing quite like getting thrown out of a room so that: “I hide. Need to go poop. GO!” He becomes a little dictator. When I told teacher about it, all she said was “He’s very private.” That’s fine— be private all you want. But can’t he be private on the potty? Where I don’t have to clean up the mess?

And then there’s the potty mouth. Currently, his favorite words start with a**. As in spank that a**, punk a**, etc etc. There’s also the s**t word that just made an appearance. Normally, I tell him “I can’t hear you when you talk like that,” and then proceed to ignore him. Works rather well. But yesterday, on the way home, he started yelling at the other drivers for me. “You drive like s**t! S**T! You bad driver!”  And on and on…. I tried to tell him I couldn’t hear him… Really I did. But I was too busy laughing. That high, sing song little boy voice cussing out drivers on the road (and no, I didn’t start it), was too much for me. I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. Baad mommy. You’re not supposed to laugh.

And no, I’m not the cusser. If I was, he would be dropping the F bomb, which is my favorite in times of stress.

Oh, my little man. If only the potty training worked as well as your potty mouth!

Marekting Monday— First Try


In Mr. Ewanick’s defense…. I’m not even sure he’s getting the emails. But here is the first try. Let me know what you think. As I said before, according to dear husband, Kia already beat us to the punch. But some good ideas none the less, I think.

This was emailed 2 or 3 weeks ago.


Dear Mr. Ewanick,

My first love was a 1976 Camaro. It was red with a white vinyl hard top. It wasn’t just the speed and power that led to devotion. It was the confidence and freedom that it conferred on me by default. In the Camaro, I was an Amazon Princess.  During the days before self help & Dr. Phil, the only “therapy” I needed was a full tank of gas and the open road.  My best friend and I used to hop in the car and just drive for hours. No destination, the drive itself  the point. I can still remember driving it through the Sunol Pass, windows down, blasting AC/DC’s Highway to Hell– “Hey Momma, Look at me, I’m on my way to the promised land.”

20 years later, and I still miss that car. I miss that feeling, which has never been re-captured. When it became apparent that I had no talent for working on cars, let alone a muscle car, and my dad (elderly) couldn’t, The Amazonian Princess’ chariot was passed down to the next generation (my nephew). He still has it, BTW, along with several others. We’re a loyal bunch.

If I would do anything to re-capture that kind of freedom,  where every time I got in my car I was escaping INTO my real life… I can only imagine that GM & Chevrolet would love to reclaim the devotion of consumers. To that end, I have a plan.

First off, the current marketing  strategy (or lack there of) is not working. The only thing I can remember from a GM commercial is an accessory: On Star. Not the car, not the brand, just On Star. I finally saw a Chevrolet commercial last night, and I still couldn’t tell you what car it was selling. There were no people, just pictures of cars and numbers and a voice over. There was nothing for me to connect to.

When I went through your website, I noticed that you are advertising the 2011 Blaze as having been globally tested. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we don’t really care about what people in England, or France or Kalamazoo think about a car. During the recession, the American People (regular people) have become more insular. We have a belief that no one else can possibly know what we’re going through, or what our lives are like.  Do they have to pinch pennies until they bleed copper tears? How much stuff do they have to fit into the trunk? Do they have to travel 60, 100 miles a day just to get to and from work?

GM, and Chevrolet, needs to connect to American consumer again. Especially the female consumer. The men are going to come to the Camaro and Corvette regardless. Of course, you have the best advertising ever in the Transformer’s franchise. My four year old son can pick Bumblebee out of a swarm of yellow cars. (Although it took me MONTHS to figure out that ALL the Autobots are Chevy’s… Except maybe Optimus. And that ain’t right.)

But us women, we’re different. We like to know weird things about a car. Will my head (pony tail, hair) hit the roof? How many groceries can I fit in the trunk? Christmas gifts? How easy is it to get the infant/car/booster seat in and out of the back seat? How safe is the car? Does it make me look like the princess I am, with out needing Paris Hilton’s allowance for upkeep? How reliable is it? Does it have enough giddy-up and go so that I can escape into my real life in it?

What I propose is that you get real word of mouth going. Get some company cars into the hands of bloggers (preferably mine). We write about the cars, our adventures, even our complaints and submit them to you. You then run the blogs, cull them for advertising vignettes, and also gain invaluable data. It will also give you credibility (the voice of the blogs is going to be important) and relevancy. Plus, you can run a “Blog your Way into a Chevrolet” contest at the same time, which will generate even more interest.

You need to get the word out. When I went through your website for the current models, there are 2 car models I thought had been discontinued and three I had never heard of under Cars alone. That’s just not good enough for the Chevy I remember. The Chevy I remember allowed a girl plagued with self doubt to kick ass.

Lets go kick some ass together.

Julie and Julia: The Word Project

So I finally watched the movie Julie & Julia last night. Loved it. Made my heart just a wee bit happier for rooting for Julie. And Julia. But it made me start thinking…

Which, as we all know,  can be a dangerous thing with me. Heh.

Lately my brain has been spinning, trying to find a way to climb out of the pit of nastiness & depression that can try and seep in and steal the joy. One of the ways that I’ve been trying to do that is to petition GM, Joel Ewanick to be exact, for a new car. Or a job where I can afford a new car.

To that end, I’ve been sending him a marketing plan about one a week or every two weeks maybe. I’ve only sent in two so far. The first one, well, it was good but Kia beat poor GM to the punch. The second one rocks. Really.

So I have all these ideas for marketing a brand that it seems like everyone has given up on.A guy in Australia was telling me he thought Chevrolet had gone out of business. Seriously. I’ve been emailing Mr. Ewanick, but apparently he doesn’t like the ideas. So should I just give up?

C’MON. It wouldn’t be the American Dream if Washington had just given up.

Besides, quitting will just get me what I’ve always gotten. Lets face it, what I’ve got isn’t enough. If it was, I wouldn’t be using titles like “American Dream vs. American Nightmare.”

What’s new? Well, lets see… Apparently my creative spark is leaning towards marketing right now. Which would be great, if I knew how to extrapolate money from those ideas. I have the beginnings… I’ve been trying. So now I’m going to take the next step.

I’m going to start posting my ideas. And here is where my quandary lies. I’ve written a wide range of things on this blog, but it’s been intensely personal. Should I keep just the one blog, or go ahead and create a whole new one for just this?

Of course, the name of the blog is Wyn Words. MY WORDS. All of my words… Or only some of them? I’m currently leaning towards all of my words, get the full experience J  I rarely, if ever, post anything that I’m ashamed of or wouldn’t want someone in particular to read.

What do you think? I’ll post my first letter to Mr. Ewanick shortly, either here or somewhere else. Because someone, somewhere, is going to read my words and think “Hot Dawg! Lets get this girl writing for us!”


Ray doesn’t quite understand about teams. About rooting for your favorite team in baseball, too be exact. He does understand winning and losing, and boy howdy he wants to be on the winning side.

Brian loves the SF Giants. It’s his team. He has been a rabid fan since, well, since before I met him. And there’s no team he hates to see win against the SF Giants quite as much as the LA Dodgers.

You  probably know where I’m going with this.

They played last night, in LA.  Everytime the crowd would clap and go wild, Ray would run around the living room “We win! Yay! Win!” Of course he didn’t know that he was rooting for the wrong team. He was just having fun, spending time with Dad. Which he really needed, because he had an extremely hard day yesterday.

Of course, Dad had a rough day too… “I can take a lot of things, Wyn… I can accept almost anything my son throws at me. I’m not sure I could take it if he’s a Dodgers fan.” There was defeat in the man’s eyes.


It’s baseball. The American passtime for crying out loud. Let the boy root for which ever team makes his heart go pitter patter.

My Big Boy

It came to my attention, once again, just how far Ray has come.  There was a guest at church today, once that hasn’t seen Ray in about a year. We were talking about his speech, and the fact that he tested really well at school last year academically.

Ok. You have to remember that at one point, I was told to expect moderate retardation at best in his testing. Most probably combined with autism. (Neither of which is his particular problem).

So. The fact that he can feed himself, make his opinions known verbally and is a social creature is really quite remarkable to some people.

We, however, always new better. If not, go see the post titled MY KID’S NOT AUTISTIC.

Anyhoo— We deal with Ray everyday. So we still see that he falls off his feet (Kerplop!), has a few motorskills problems, but is overall a bright boy. We forget sometimes, exactly how much he has learned in the past year. How much his learning has accelerated. Colors, numbers, counting, shapes, name recognition (written)…

He learned a lot in the past year and I am so proud of him! We still have things we need to work on, but overall… He’s the smart boy I always knew was residing inside his head. He just couldn’t let people know before.

Autistic my fanny!

Explain it to me, Please


WHY OH WHY do people give you excuse (lie) after excuse (lie) on why they can’t do something, then get mad when you have beat down their excuses (lies)? And they’re mad at you!

Especially when all they would have to do is tell the truth. 1 time, no backpedaling, nothing to remember… The truth shall set you free and make it so that you don’t get people irked at you.

I was so upset, I accidentally took a big old slurp of Ray’s chocolate mile. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, except that I accidentally bought him sugar free chocolate sauce.

And I have a severe sensitivity to fake sugar. Apparently, it’s very close to chlorine (chemically speaking) and my body just can’t tolerate it.  Thankfully, the sauce only had Splenda and the other semi-not-too-bad one. The one that gives me a fierce headache but NOT the migrane, sick, I need to passout headache that nutrasweet gives me.

It’s been a rough night.

And I can still taste metal on the back of my tongue. That can’t be good, can it?

BUT— One good thing. I was laying down with Ray, and I said something about my head hurt. Zillions little boy kisses all over Mommy’s face and head, making her all better again. Love you, Buddy Boy!

A Theif in the night

So, last January, someone broke into our storage unit here at the apartment. All they took was my Christmas tree and all the ornaments. ALL the ornaments. Including ones that had been on my family tree since before I was born. All the ornaments my little family had added, including ones that Ray made.

How could someone come in and Steal Christmas? Why do people do that? I mean ok, the economy sucks but still…

Last week, someone broke in at my work. Did not take anything that we can find— just left a mess.

It leaves me wishing for the neighborhood I used to live in. You know, the neighborhood’s of our childhoods where the sun shines, kids play out side and nobody worries about things like that.

Why can’t everyone live in a safe place? Why do people sneak in and steal not only our things, but also our sense of security? Why is it so hard to reclaim our neighborhoods  and keep our family safe??

Do you know what it’s like for a three year old to hear that someone stole Christmas?  I can’t imagine having to tell him that something else, something worse, had happened. Yet mothers across the country have to do just that everyday.

I only got a little glimpse, but there are  mothers out there living a nightmare of insecurity every single moment. My heart goes out to you.

Working Poor– Kid Tip #1 (The Happy Meal Switcheroo)

When Ray and I lived with my dad, I got us into a really bad habit. We’d stop at Sonic on the way home (a half hour drive) for french fries, drinks, and a toy for Ray. When I realized how much I was spending (about $70.00 a paycheck on NOTHING), I freaked out.

OMG! What am I doing? OF COURSE IT”S QUICK AND EASY. Of course it made Ray happy!

But it wasn’t what he needed. Or I needed. I needed my money. To save up to move out. Sonic should be a treat, not a thing where the drive through lady knows us by sight. (“oops, no ketchup.”)

Bur I had spoiled him. I had done this, not Ray. And I really, really DID NOT WANT A HALF HOUR CAR RIDE OF SCREAMING. Gives me heebee-jeebies just thinking about it.

So. What’s a mom to do?

Think outside the box. Or, really, back inside it.

I took an old lunch box of Ray’s, and filled it wit 2 juice boxes ($2.00 for 10, or… well heck, you do the math). A snack for the ride home (chips, grapes, popcorn, fruit snacks, what ever was on hand) which again was really cheap.

I then took a bunch of his “small” toys. Anything that wasn’t in constant play was up for Mommy grabs. And I stole them. Yes, I did. I took them, put them in a bag, and hid them. One a day would come out, be played with and then recycled back into the bag.

Home made “Happy Meal” that led to Happy Rides home. WOOHOO!


We still have happy meals. We make them at home )$3.98 for a bag full of chicken nuggets, $2.00 for bbq sauce, and mandrin oranges, grapes, whatever we have handy. MEGA CHEAP.

Now. Don’t think I’m heartless. If Ray is really good during the week, he gets a real live McDonald’s Happy Meal. $5.00 per week, $10.00 per pay period.


Be HAPPY! Get Creative! Think outside (or inside if need be) the box. Just because we’ve spoiled our kids doesn’t mean that we have to let them stay that way. And it can be done with out parental pain. Maybe not all the time, but a good portion of the time.

The rest of the time, I’m sorry to say, you’ll wish your ears could bleed and you could just get it over with.

Got any tips? SHARE WITH ME!

Lets make those pennies cry cold copper tears! Yah Baby!

Oh the Joy!

So today we had the talk. Ray Ray and I, that is. You know the one… Starts with “Why do I have a hole in my belly?”

“That’s your belly button baby, that’s where momma gave you all her love when you were inside her tummy.”

“In your tummy?” Eyebrows drawn close, lips pursed.

I nod.

“Did you spit me out?” Hack Hack, pretend throwing up.

Sure, baby. Mommy threw you up after 2 days of back labor.

Ain’t kids grand?

Break Time

Apparently, when I said I needed a  mommy break, I wasn’t quite on the right track. Close, but not all the way there.  I apparently needed a break from being a wife.

Because a wife sleeps on the couch because her husband has burns up and down his legs. And her hip starts hurting. And she starts resenting… Everything. Even the air he breathes, the food he eats…because she hasn’t slept properly.

But. But.

But someone who only has Mommy responsibilities can sleep ALL NIGHT IN THE BED. And her hip won’t hurt in the morning. And she slept ALL NIGHT LONG. And is sooo sooo very happy right now.

(Imagine me, jumping up and down, clapping like a dork.)

Ray and I have had a nice morning this Saturday. We’ve looked at cars online (WHY OH WHY ARE THEY ALL GRAY/SILVER? DOES THAT COLOR REALLY SELL CARS? WHAT HAPPENED TO ROCK N ROLL COLORS LIKE RED AND BLACK AND SMOKING HOT?), entered to win a Chevy Camaro.  We’ve looked at pictures of Optimus Prime, and Megatron and Sideswipe. We’ve had a pillow fight (oh the giggles!The joy in those eyes!), taken pictures of Dot Dot the Turtle and of Ray sitting on the table…Which could have led to a mommy melt down pre-good night’s sleep but instead was seen as a photo op.

oh! and we’ve played good mater vs, bad mater and doctor mater that fixed the boo-boos.

Wifey had her break, and it was a good one.

But it leaves me wondering…. What does that say about me? About my marriage?

EH. Food for thought.

I’d prefer crab cakes right now, tho.