Chuck E Striptease

It was a Saturday night. The day had been packed with tons of activities: breakfast with Santa, playing dress-up, a nap, and my big brother's basketball game. It was a great day, and my night was going to be even better. We were driving almost an hour out of town to celebrate my brother's 7th birthday at Chuck E Cheese.

I’m going to state the obvious and tell you that Chuck E Cheese totally rocks! Loud music, flashing lights and kids running everywhere; it’s equivalent to child clubbing. When we pulled into the parking lot, I squealed and shouted, “AWESOME.” People, you know it was time to get my party on! I was ready to make my presence known.

My daddy parked the car, and the big kids piled out. Mommy went to get me out of the car to discover sopping wet pants. If you read my last blog, you would know about the cheap diapers Mommy had bought in an attempt to make diaper wearing less comfortable for me. She was promptly defeated in her scheme. She had gone to the store to restock the house with the “good” diapers; but, she had not thrown out the bad diapers. Big mistake! Even bigger mistake? Daddy was not up to speed on the whole diaper scheme.

When my mommy coaches my brother’s basketball team, my daddy is in charge of me and my sister during that time. When I woke from my nap, I was wearing a beautiful summer fairy gown. It's gauzy skirt, sleeves, and rushed bodice were stunning. I had put this gown on over my day clothes (boring black yoga pants and a pink and silver foiled pony shirt.) My dad made me take my beautiful dress off in the car before we went into my brother's game. He also put a fresh diaper on me. When he did, he unknowingly reached for the cheap ones. (Oh, it still makes me giggle now.)

So, back to Saturday night. You know I completely let that cheap-py diaper have it! I was so wet, there was no way I could wear my pants again. You should have seen my mommy's face. Sweet justice! That's all I'm saying. She desperately looked around the car for optional clothing. She cannot let me go into Chuck E Cheese wearing just a shirt and a diaper in winter. If she took me to the store to buy a new pair of pants, we would be missing my brother’s birthday party. But as luck would have it, she quickly finds my dress-up gown, a good diaper, and gets me all back together. And here's the thing; I look even better now.

Picture me: flashing princess sneakers; white, fold-down socks; pink, floral, gauzy gown draped over my hot pink, silver-foiled shirt. Stunning! I remembered the words of Coco Chanel about not over accessorizing. So I ripped the bow out of my hair and allowed my hair to gracefully cover my face. Now I am ready. Even my mommy knows I'm going to turn heads.

We walk up to the doors of Chuck E Cheese. Security (an adolescence male whose intimidating physique can only be described as toothpick fierce) meets us at the front door. He stamps our hands and immediately ushers us into the club (Not that I was worried; they always let the pretty girls in.) We are met by a hostess and escorted to the VIP section of the club where our party is waiting.

I take my tokens and play my games until the DJ announces to the house that our party's pizza is waiting. I have everything announced under my brother's name, so as to keep a low profile. I eat some pizza at our table down by the stage; then, Chuck E, himself, comes out. We all rush him and the stage and just start rockin' it out! I'm stomping and clapping. I'm like:

Oh Chuck E man.
This is my jam.
Keep me partyin' late in the PM.
Ya'll don't understand.
Make me throw my hands in the ayer, a-ayer, ayer, a-ayer.
(Word play off of the In the Ayer by Flo Rida and Will.I.Am.)

Next, is cake. Chuck comes over to sing and blow out the candles with my crew; then he leaves. But trust me, the party is just getting started. Dad announces that he is going to take the big kids back to the game area. Mommy says she's going to stay in the party room and watch me. I'm currently back to the stage area, dancing like crazy in front of the camera that projects my image onto a big TV screen for all my fans to see. Mommy and daddy are sitting; watching me with adoring eyes as I shake and jump to songs about pizza. I know they are thinking that they could not be any prouder, but I know I still have a little more to give. I grab my dress and start to raise my skirt. Mom flatly says, "Ella, keep your dress down." But I am moved by the music and take that skirt all the way up. And guess what? I really fired up the crowd. My mom screams out my name and my daddy shouts "GO!" (Or was it "NO!"?) Then, I get a standing ovation from both of them.

You see, when I was dancing earlier, I scratched at my abdomen to release the tabs of my diaper. It just dropped to the ground and no one could tell that I had done it. Let’s just say that Donald Rumsfeld ain't got nothin' on the Shock and Awe Campaign I ran in front of the camera at Club Chuck E.

My light up shoes flashed, while I did the same; but it didn't last long. My mommy picked me up like a sack of potatoes and rushed me to the dim, quiet lights of the bathroom. Daddy ran reconnaissance on the diaper. He was afraid I had left a major party foul on the dance floor. Talk about your over reaction by both of them.

A few minutes later we returned to the stage, and I managed to do this maneuver one more time. Soon afterwards, my non-party loving parents called an end to the party. My dad was about to lose it. He was all, "We've got to get out of here. I can't do this place anymore. We've got to get out of here now!" He also begin muttering things like I'm never going to be allowed to go on any Spring Breaks or off to college. That he will personally guarantee that I am constantly supervised so I don't end up on a Girls Gone Wild video. He looked physically ill. Mom in her soothing voice told him to calm down, and that we will go home where he can take a nice hot shower to wash the Chuck E off of him.

So we left. As we walked out into the cold dark night, the music faded into the background as did the lights of Chuck E Cheese as we traveled home. We were now gone, but Chuck E was not forgotten. I will always cherish the memory of Club Chuck E. The taste of cheap pizza, the flashing lights and thumping music will forever linger in my mind. And I will always love you Chuck E, and I will remember how you and the camera loved me.

Shakin' and showin' my groove thing,
Ella

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

Daily Chore Frustrations

In my house there is an extra bedroom where Nana and Grandpa sleep when they come to visit. My mom also uses this room as a playroom. It has some toys, a TV, and a bed. It's a really nice place to be, and I enjoy this room often. However, every time I go in there I am shocked at the order of that room. The bed is made and the toys are put away in various baskets or binds. So I start my daily chore of making the room right again.


I throw every toy out on to the floor. I pull the covers off the bed and place the pillows on the floor. It doesn't take long. I pride myself on my speed and thoroughness. Once I complete the chore of righting this room, I move on to my other household chores: emptying out the pantry, mixing the cat's dry food into her water dish, crushing goldfish crackers on the floor, etc. The list of my chores is endless! But I'm a hard worker, and I accept my two year old responsibilities with a positive attitude that anyone would be proud of . . . anyone accept my MOMMY!


Now, I did not list all my chores to suggest that I am working any harder than any other two year old out there. I know I am not alone. I know that all of you out there are doing your best every day to empty out every bind, bucket, closet, and cabinet. I'm not mad about having to do all the chores. And, it's not the monotony of repeated tasks that is getting to me. (Believe it or not, I truly never tire of it and take immense joy in my work.) It's is my mommy that is frustrating the process.


I cannot tell you what it feels like to have completely wrecked a room only to go back moments later and find everything put up again. One day I had to wreck the guest room three times! Three times!!! I even made sure that I did a better job each time. I just wanted to scream at her, "How many times do I have to fix this room!" And get this. She acted like she was frustrated with me. Are you kidding me? Seriously! I am working so hard everyday to make this house a home; a place we can be proud of, and she is ruining it! Just ruining it, ugh! Sometimes, she even locks some of the doors so that I cannot work in certain areas and rooms anymore. I'm just so mad and frustrated.


Luckily for me, I can do my chores faster than she can pick up. While she puts the toys away in the guest room, I work on the pantry. She goes to the pantry to destroy my hard work, and I move on to the bookself in my bedroom. By the time lunch rolls around, I'm exhausted. Nap time will be here soon. Which is good. I think mommy needs a little alone time. Hopefully she won't be so "cleany, cleany" when I get up. But even if she is, I will still love her. And with my battery recharged after my nap, I know I will have the strength to do it all over again -- and again.


Thanks for listening. It just feels good to vent sometimes. She is really is a good mom, and I love her very much. It's just somedays, ugh! You know what I mean. Are any of the rest of you having to deal with a mom that keeps destroying all that you work so hard on by cleaning it up? Share some of your stories. What are some of your favorite rooms and places to fix up?

See you in the guest room,
Ella

Car Seat Death Match 2008

I decided about a month ago that I was done with the car seat. I don't mind "riding" in the car seat. I just don't want to be buckled in anymore. I have repeatedly made this known to my mommy and daddy. When Nana came to visit, I took the time to share my thoughts with her on the subject as well. However, NO ONE seems to be listening.

I have kicked and screamed, slapped and pinched; yet, I still am buckled in my seat. I have developed a move (or skill as I like to refer to it). I call it the Stiff Board Horse. I thought I would share it with all the other toddlers out there so that maybe we could work together to make this maneuver even more effective than where I currently have it.

Position 1: Stiff board
Pretend that the car seat is on fire and stiffen your body so as to not get in the "sitting" position. Draw the buttocks in and straighten the back and legs. You should look like a stiff board with only your head and calves touching the actual seat. (If your mom happens to lose her grip, you will slide down the seat hitting your head on the foot of the car seat then on the back of one of the front seats. Don't be alarmed. It is okay. You've broken free for the moment, so it is technically worth it.) Even though your body is rigid from head to toe, please note that the forearms and hands can and should be mobile. Pinching and slapping seem to work well in this position.

Now there will come a point where you will be unable to continue holding the stiff board position (especially with your mom pressing down on your hips trying her best to make you sit). This is the point where you want to launch into the next position.

Position 2: Horse
Pretend you a rodeo bronco in for the fight/ride for your life. Aggressively buck your body into the car seat then back out to the stiff board position. Don't forget to put your total body into it. Your arms were already in action in the stiff board position, but now is the time to engage the head and legs as well. So bang your head and kick as hard as you can.

WARNING: The horse bucking move is difficult. It has been during this maneuver that my mommy seems to be able to trap me in the sitting position, thus allowing her access to the shoulder harnesses and buckles. (It is hard for me to truly evaluated how she traps me, because I'm out visiting the great state of Crazy in the moment.) But I think she is trapping me by placing an elbow in between my legs at the base and using her forearm to hold my chest in place. She then uses the other arm to attach the top buckles. I'm fighting her like a wild animal, which is good. She will have to use both hands to get the straps around my arms and shoulders to clip the top buckle, thus allowing me to launch into another stiff board position. The stiff board can still be used even when the top buckle is connected, but eventually you have to buck again, and that allows your mom to pin you. Also be careful once the top buckle is engaged. You can get so into crazy that you start to slide out of the seat with the top buckle connected and darn near hurt yourself. But on the bright side, you also might slide yourself out. Once the top latch is engaged; it's a gamble, that's all I'm saying. Use your judgement and trust your mommy to protect you. It's what she's there for.

Secret Tip: If you can sit on or keep the lower buckle behind you, you can greatly improve your odds in the match. Your mommy has to get that buckle between your legs, which is nearly impossible during stiff board position. I have never fully defeated my mommy in Car Seat Death Match, but by using this secret tip, I have greatly extended my time in battle.

Needless to say, all above skills are done with ear piercing, door rattling screams. Ask yourself, "Is my mommy wincing? Can I be heard by strangers who are near by?" If your mommy does not look distressed and strangers are not turning their heads, then you are not giving enough to the project verbally. With time and practice, your verbal prowess will improve. You know you've made it to the top level when dogs begin to howl with you.

I also cannot stress enough the physical component of this skill. No matter what position you are in, you should be both offensively and defensively battling your mommy. Even when you know defeat is imminent and you find yourself firmly locked into your seat, do not stop protesting until the key is in the car's ignition.

So basically this is where I am at with the car seat issue. I am doing my best, but I have not won a single car seat death match yet. But I feel like I'm close. Have any of my fellow toddlers got any advice on how to improve my technique? Please share your stories. I could use a few pointers. I have not explored biting or spitting yet, but I am open to suggestions. What has worked for you?

I will post again soon. Encouragement and peace to all my fellow toddlers. Remember to keep your patience with your parents. They love us; they just are not fully understanding our boundaries and values yet.

Your warrior princess,
Ella


A note from guest speaker and my older sister, Laurel.
Great article Ella! I did want to add that not everyone waits for their Car Seat Death Matches until age two. I began my career at 4 months of age. I started small, with long fits of crying that defied all reason, then quickly moved into the the physical fighting as my body and motor skills developed and would allow. I was not one to stop protesting when mom started the car. I in fact would cry for ...well...as long I was in the car, really. I didn't end my career in Car Seat Death Matches until you were born. Three car seats would not fit in our vehicle. We had to purchase a van to accommodate you; but mommy got one with a DVD player to accommodate me. I cannot say that I ever won a match against mom either; but when you get to watch Dora in the car, you can thank me for the feature.

Thanks, Laurel. You have been a real inspiration and I have learned so much from you. I think we all see now that you are never too young to start a career in Car Seat Death Matches. I thank you for all your hard work and tenacity. The DVD player is great.

I asked my oldest brother for some words of advice, but he had none to offer. He was ALWAYS a great traveler. Show off!

Introducing my blog

Hi everyone,

I'm sure that you've read my bio located to the side, but I don't think it really gives you the full picture as to why I have taken up blogging. You see, it started this past 4th of July, on my second birthday. I decided I was done with the sweet baby season of my life. I was ready to become the firecracker I was destined to be. I was ready to fully embody my two's.

I was always a delightful happy baby. Truly I was. My mom told me that all the time. She is a great lady who I love dearly, but lately she has gotten into a rather nasty habit. She has been telling me, "no." Don't get me wrong, she does say yes, but to things I don't want like, "Yes, you will get into the car seat. Yes, you are going to eat your vegetables." Really I've just had enough! Who does she thinks she is? My mother!?!

I have decided that we are just going to have a battle of wills. I am placing her on a year long program. By the time I reach three years of age, she will learn my rules and boundaries.

I know I am not alone in my struggles; so for all my fellow toddlers out there, I hear you. I will be your voice and fight against the presence of car seats, nap times, hair washing, & vegetable eating. I will stand up for throwing all objects, drinking bath water, and jumping on all furniture. I will NOT keep my hands to myself. I WILL NOT. Together we can make a difference! United we can put an end to timeouts and rules in general!

I hope my writings will make you laugh and offer you encouragement and hope in your daily walk with your parents and siblings. Pray that I may have the strength to each day launch a full on attack against the no-no talk. I just hope my parents realize that I love them and that I am only doing what I do for the greater good (and by greater good, I mean me.)

Until we chat again,
Ella