Cheapskate!

Right now our world is experiencing an economic crisis. Many families are looking for ways to cut costs and save money. Noble efforts truly. However, something extreme has occurred in my life and I will not accept it. Last week my mommy, the one who is supposed to be looking out for my well being, did the unthinkable. She changed my diaper brand to the cheapest generic brand available.


Now again, I am for saving some coin. My mommy has always been frugal. Store brand foods, brother's home haircuts (that's an experience he'll be sharing in future therapy sessions), and home cooked meals in lieu of fine dining (not that I would have been invited anyway) are all things that were common even before these economical hard times hit. But the diapers have been the untouchable. The best lock-away leak protection diaper that money can buy has always been worth any cost. Until now. Until now!


I would like to say that my mom is cutting corners to save money for what will be important for me in the future, like college (which I believe is the name of the pony they want to get me when I'm older.) But I believe, that is not her true motivation. She is not only a cheapskate; she is a conspirator. Let me explain.


Lately mommy has been having little "chats" with me about the potty. She'll bring out a little potty chair and she'll offer incentives for sitting on the chair. But then, she wants me to pee on the thing. Are you kidding! That's disgusting! I'm like, "Hey crazy lady. I've already got a system in place for that kind of thing. It's call a diaper. I use it; you change it. This is the way of my people. Leave me alone!"


She's not really pushing the idea. We are just discussing options and equipment. But I can't be any clearer; I'm not buying what she's selling! I am happy with my diapers. In fact, if I am running around in my beautiful natural state of nakedness and I feel the urge to "make water," I will lay down on the ground, lift my legs in the air and cry for a diaper. It's as clear as day what I want but my mommy (obviously not the sharpest knife in the drawer) goes and gets the chair out and again starts having one of her chats about the potty. Unbelievable! I'm trying to hold off "Old Faithful," and she wants me to sit on a chair.

She knows I'm not ready for all that, so she puts the chair away. (Maybe the Baby Einstein videos are making a difference with her.) But then I hear her talking to my dad about how she's going to make it "uncomfortable" for me. She bought those cheap diapers hoping that I would not be as comfortable in them. Seriously, what kind of evil mind thinks up these things. Let me tell you mommy dearest, you're not the only gal in this family that plays hard ball. BRING IT ON! We'll see who starts appreciating leak protection more. If you've got the courage, meet me for storytime at 3:30PM sharp -- Your lap or your bed! You pick the place, and I'll be ready. I'm not going down without a fight. You will give me back my diapers or pay!

Sorry to sound so angry today. It's just that sometimes I am so amazed at where her head is. Can any of you guys relate? Are any of you being sent to the chair? She really is a nice mommy. However, I'm just irritated. NO REALLY! I think I am getting a rash. These cheap things just don't breathe.


Longing for some Huggies or some Pamper-ing,
Ella



UPDATE: I really did get a rash after a few days on Mom's plan. She went and bought me my good old diapers again. Today was a victory, even if it did give me a case of the reds.

Timeout with Endless Possibilities

Timeouts are awful; just awful. When I grow up I plan on creating legislation to make it illegal to use or even threaten a timeout. But until that day comes, I wanted to share some tips on how to make the most of your time in the naughty spot.

Timeouts, as bad as they are, can have endless possibilities for fun. Now before I move onto my lists of "do's", I have to state the obvious. The majority of your time (especially in the first moments) should be spent screaming. Thrashing and stomping are also acceptable, but screaming is a must. Once you get tired with the fits of rage (take all the time you need) you might want a little something else to do. You must be quick and effective, because when you get quiet, the mommy comes back. Having ideas like these will help you

make the most of your time.

Now if your mommy is like mine, she probably puts you in a place where there is very little (if anything) to do or play with. But don't let that discourage you. Dig deep and let your surroundings inspire you. Find a seam in the wallpaper? Pull and tear. Minuscule hole or dent in the wall? With time and effort you can make it large and noticeable to anyone walking by. Even when the memory of the timeout is over, you can have a permanent display of your skills on the wall. (Trust me. It always takes them a lot of time to repair that kind of damage.) Pick carpet; scratch the flooring; catch a dust bunny. I am telling you there is more to do in timeout than just bang your head. (Though still another viable option.) Of course, if you are in a place that has a door protector on the base board (you know; one of those springy stick things at the bottom of the wall), play that baby like the lead soloist in a Hee-Haw band.

Ta-wong, ta-wong!

Now that we discussed exploring your environment, let's go to a more personal level. You! Nine out of ten times, you are not going to be naked when put in timeout. But don't think that you can't get that way. Stripping off all the constraints (or clothes in mommy talk) in your timeout containment is a great way to pass your period of cruel and unusual solitary confinement. Now, your tossed clothing has magically become toys! Pants become head wear, creating a beautiful head of hair. Your socks are now hand puppets. Mommy wants my timeout to be alone time where I calm down. But how can I calm down when I have Lefty and Righty to party with? Plus, I've heard it said that the best revenge in life against your rival is living well. And it is so true. You-know-who might call it a TIME OUT, but with the right attitude, I like to make it into a TIME IN FUNVILLE!

So get out there and make every time out the time of your life. I'll see you when I get out of the naughty spot. -- Ella

P.S. Lefty and Righty say "Bye-bye!"

These Boots are Made for Stomping - And that's just what I'll do!

Fall is fully here! Gone are the afternoons spent in the backyard with bare feet running through the grass. My sandals are gone and they have been replaced with the greatest footwear of all time . . . cowgirl boots.

These are fabulous! Hot pink with silver foil accents, zippers on the the sides, and the slightest of heels that clickity, clack on most flooring. I am in love. They are just so versatile. I wear them with pants, dresses, or just a diaper.

Now as impressed as I am with their fashion fabulousness, I must take the time to mention function. Toddlers, if you ever have had misgivings about footwear, let alone boots, then please hear me now. Cowboy boots are the only footwear that bring fashion and function together. Not only are you going to draw "oohs" and "ahhs" walking around town, you will be able to cause physical pain to others. Let me explain.

Step on someone's foot with your bare feet - nothing. Do it in boots and people will take notice. Kick your older brother or sister in your sneakers, and they will be annoyed. Do it in boots and now you are a force to be reckoned with. I sing "yeehaw" while they howl like a sad little doggie. Let's just say that when I'm in my boots, people know there's a new sheriff in town. And she knows how to kick some. . . well I can't say it; but just know, I am doing it!

With boots, you are a much more effective stomper and kicker. I'm louder and stronger with my boots on. I have worn fun footwear before that has made me feel like a beautiful princess, but I feel empowered in my boots. I am on top of the world, stomping it down with each step.

So go out and get you a pair. They make them for boys or girls. These beauties were given to me by my Nana. Well, actually, they were given to my older sister, Laurel. But the "hand me down" issue is a whole 'nother blog, people. And I really don't care how I got these boots. I just want them on.

Stomps, kicks, and kisses,

Ella