My daughter designed her own outfit, but how neat would it be to design an outfit for a friend, or to buy a gift card for someone so that they could design whatever they wanted?

What I love is that the actual end product looks all boutique-style custom for half the price.

The cool thing is Fashion Playtes is letting one of my readers win a $20 gift certificate!

So, let’s do this!

Winner will be chosen randomly. 1 comment = 1 entry. If you tweet it or facebook, leave an extra comment and I’ll give you an extra entry.

Contest closes at midnight central on Wednesday!

Good Luck!

Have a Nice Day and Watch out for the Big Yellow Chicken. ]]> http://www.totallythebomb.com/fashion-playtes-fashion-diva-giveaway/feed 11 http://www.totallythebomb.com/freakin-raise-kid http://www.totallythebomb.com/freakin-raise-kid#comments Wed, 23 Jun 2010 11:00:10 +0000 Jamie http://www.totallythebomb.com/?p=2472 So, I am spending the week at my grandma’s house this week. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandparents–but I’m having to bite my tongue a lot. So, I figured I could just unload on you guys instead.

My kid is covered pretty much head to toe in bug bites, and I blame you. Why?

• Because when I said “Daughter, let’s put on some bug spray before you go outside and play next to that stagnant pond.” You scoffed at me, and said, “During the day? That’s just ridiculous. Quit being over protective.” So, you made me feel like a tool, and I ignored my better instincts. Now, she looks like a big swollen welp, she had some crazy allergic reaction, and I had to use my freakin OnStar to haul my ass to town (which is like half an hour away) and get her some children’s benadryl.

I get it–you can take the heat and the humidity better than we can, and it’s all my fault because I don’t let my kid play outside in hundred degree weather for hours every day.

• Here’s the thing, we live in the city, and my backyard consists pretty much of a pool. So, when it’s a hundred degrees–guess where we are… also this humidity is so ridiculous I want to pass out, and since my kid looks like a giant bug bite–it’s kind of getting to her, too. So, when she throws up at the fish hatchery on the vacation bible school field trip, I’m going to go on ahead and take her back to your house. Could you please not make me feel like a shithead about it?

I know you think the country is way better than the city.

• I seriously don’t give a flying rat’s ass about that. Stop giving me crap about not living out in the middle of nowhere. My mom did me a huge favor and got the hell away from podunkville as soon as she could, which means I grew up to do things like get a degree and a career– not pop out a bunch of babies at the ripe ‘ol age at 17. I always thought it was the city mouse that made fun of the country mouse in that story… maybe I should read it again, because I think I totally missed the point.

Stop calling my kid rotten. Stop telling everyone she’s spoiled.

• She’s five freakin’ years old, which means she’s old enough to understand what you’re saying, and you’re giving her a complex. I know I keep buying her toys, but there isn’t really anything to do here, and she’s bored as all get out. I don’t blame her, so am I. I mean, I am glad I get to come and visit, and I enjoy your company and all that, but, seriously, would it kill you guys to get like, an indoor playground around here or something?

I don’t want to pick beans, lettuce, berries, or anything else.

• Dude, even my farmville crops are wilted–what on earth makes you think I want to go out and pluck some actual fruit off a vine? Also, I don’t think at any point things are going to get so bad in this world that we’re going to have to “guard our crops with a shotgun in order to feed our family.” If worse comes to worse, chicken nuggets are like, 99 cents.

Could you stop forcing my kid to clean her plate, then giving her crap about it when she says she’s too full to eat another bite?

• I know that it’s wrong to waste food. She’s eats when she wants to eat and stops when she’s full, and I am TOTALLY okay with that. If I was worried, I would do something about it, but she is a normal healthy weight–and she’s regulated that all on her own. Why on earth would I take that from her?

Who the hell are all these people that keep stopping by?

• And why do so many of them show up before 8am? Have you guys not heard of the telephone?

The news is not appropriate television for a five year old.

• What the heck is so important that you have to watch an hour of it every day? All they talk about is killings, robberies, suicide and other horrible stuff–can’t we just skip it this week? How on earth does that crap pertain to you. I don’t know what you’re worried about, I am sure it all happens in that evil city you’re always putting down–you’ll be fine. I haven’t watched an entire news program, like, ever, and I am up on current events. I drove all the freakin’ way down here for you, maybe you could do me that one little favor so I don’t have to explain to my kid why some school teacher took her life or whatever the hell they are talking about.

Did you seriously for real just give me crap about the fact that my kid interrupts adults when she has a question for me?

• She’s hanging out at your church with a bunch of people she doesn’t know, and if she feels like she needs to ask me things like “Where’s the bathroom?” or “Is it okay if I puke in this bush over here?” Then guess what–I am cool with her just asking. You know what, I am cool with her asking whenever she wants, and that’s the choice I have made as a parent. I think it’s beyond ridiculous to treat kids like their second class citizens who have to WAIT until people are finished talking just because they’re smaller.

Whew. I feel much better. Anything you need to get off your chest today? Unload in the comments! (That sounded dirtier than I’d intended)

You know, so she’ll be cultured and such.

We have season tickets to the Casa Manana Children’s theater, and have never missed a show. They always make me smile, and this year the production quality went way up, so I really enjoy the plays that much more.

But, it’s nothing compared to seeing a play at the Bass Performance Hall. We took the daughter to see the most fantastic play there: The Little House on the Prairie Musical.

We had a blast, the actors were amazing. Especially the girl who played Laura (Kara Lindsay). Seriously, that girl knocked it out of the park. Her voice was phenomenal, she got laughs from the audience in all the right places, and she made me want to homestead on the prairie. (Or, you know, watch a movie about homesteading the prairie.)

The best part of the evening? I got to give my first ever standing ovation. They totally deserved it too. It’s really cool watching an entire theater rise to their feet in honor of someone’s art.

Anyway– I think you guys should all hitch up your giddyup, and mosey on out to see this freakin’ play! They’re still in Fort Worth for a few more days, so go see it!!

So, have you ever been a part of an audience that gave a standing ovation? Have you ever been given one?

She’s 5. (and the queen of making goofy faces)

She got serious about this, and quick. She took all her $ out of her piggy bank, before I knew it–I was at the store buying cupcake business supplies.

“How will you sell them?” I asked.

“I’m sure my grandparents will buy them,” she answered.

Smart girl.

How is that even possible?

How did she grow up so fast?

and more importantly…

HOW am I old enough to have a 5 year old?

I want to start a new guest post feature here at totallythebomb, so if you’re interested in writing a post about–well–anything in the whole wide world (because, let’s face it… when have I ever stuck to just one topic.) then please email me: jamie@totallythebomb.com

So, when this commercial came on, my daughter went a little freak show.

I look up to the big ‘ol television in the middle of the room to watch a plastic puppy doing…. and I quote:

“Either Number ONE or Number Two.”

They did not just say that…

Then Barbie goes on to ask, “What will it be? Puppy Pee or Puppy Poo.”

I seriously thought it was a joke.

It’s not.

Look Mattel, let me be clear here–I have a dog he takes the occasional dumb in my closet when I like forget to feed him or whatever–I don’t think I’ve ever once said to myself, “Holy crap on a cracker, this would make the coolest toy EVAR.”

But then again, my daughter asked me to rewind the television three times so she could watch it.

Maybe I don’t have a future career as a toy manufacturer…

A pretty good one, at that. My daughter dresses like a diva, most of the time her face is clean, she says please and thank you, and doesn’t fall to the ground in super tantrums in the middle of Target.

But, for some people this isn’t enough. Now, I am not talking about the actual children and how smart, talented, beautiful they are…. I am talking about the actual task of moming.

When I first started attending play groups and hanging with other preschool-having women, I’ll admit I got wrapped up in the game. Whose kid will have the healthiest snack, which kid has the most educational toys, who makes the best halloween costume…

You don’t believe me that these contests exist? Let me tell you a little about gingham checked picnic basket mom. I should preface what I am about to say by telling those of you that own a gingham lined picnic basket to stop reading here. Hell, you should probably stop reading my blog all together–because you and I can never be friends.

Damn, I kind of want that picnic basket.

But, I digress. I show up to the fountains with my kid, some water shoes, and she’s wearing an actual swimsuit. I, of course, forgot a towel, and had to dry her off with napkins from the nearby Mexican restaurant, but whatever. My kid’s making friends, running through the water and generally having a great time…

… then she shows up…

You know her… she has on freshly ironed khaki capris (I don’t even know where my iron is), a white button up shirt (WTF I haven’t bought anything white since I got boobs in the sixth grade and they turned into my own personal food shelf) and sporty canvas tennis shoes (Get some flip flops bitch. This is Texas and it’s 119 degrees out here).

Ugh, I instantly hate this woman, but here’s the thing–in the competitive world of mommyhood you have to love her. It’s the rulez.

So, I smile and watch her pull out home made granola (In my mind, though she just opened up some Quaker Granola bars and broke them up into her little snack packs) from her picnic basket. Her children munch on their fancy snack, and I offer my kid some of my frappuccino. (What? It didn’t have an caffeine in it.)

Then she whips out homemade bubble wands complete with cookie trays and organic bubble solution. (She told us it was organic. I am not even sure what that means, but she made a big thing out of it.)

That’s the very second I realized that I was out. I can’t compete with that, and more to the point–I just won’t. I am just going to be the best damn mom I can be, and to hell with that.

We had a total blast. We fed monkeys, swam with sting rays (not actually on purpose, they just came to visit us on the beach after the storm), saw actual crocodiles in the wild, and even went fishing. It was a great family vacation, and I am so glad we did it. It has opened my eyes to the possibilities of traveling with a child, and I discovered that it wasn’t actually all that difficult. We will definitely be doing more traveling in the future.

Miami totally opened my eyes to a different culture, and it was completely unexpected. Everywhere we went people were speaking Spanish. Now, I live in Texas-so I am no stranger to people speaking Spanish or anything, but this was different. It was everywhere. It was almost like English was the second language down there. It was really neat to see the different aspects of the Cuban culture and how they affected Miami. You saw it in the architecture, the housing designs, the clothing, and expecially the food.

I am very naive, and I just assumed that everyone in America was the same as us redneck folk here in Dallas. I thought we all kind of spoke the same language and did the same things, but there was salsa music coming from the live bands at the mall, and even at the BBQ restaurant in the Everglades, we were one of vey few English speakers.

I am not saying this is a bad thing at all. I actually thought it was REALLY cool to see a different culture like that only a short plane ride away. I hope that my parents continue to spend more time there so I can take my daughter again and again. I want her to experience the richness that Miami has to offer.

They were driving home then. My husband said he he had to make a quick decision when they were about a 1/4 mile from home. Should he pull into the gas station or just get home. He made the decision to get home, he said he wasn’t sure how we would do it if he had it to do again, but he knew right then that was the decision he had to make. I trust his judgment, so I am sure he did the right thing.

When he banged on the back door I scooped up Halle faster than I ever have in my life. I am still shaking a little just thinking about everything that was going on. I don’t get rattled easily, but I am a HUGE storm wimp and this could have turned into my worst nightmare. Fortunately the only damage was a cracked windshield on my husband’s truck. I couldn’t get the internet to work on my phone and I couldn’t call anyone.

After we spent a little while huddled in the bathroom, we came out to no power. I went upstairs to the only plug in phone in the house and started calling the family. They were mostly without power, too. We settled in for the rest of the evening with a radio and some tunes. The daughter had a blast dancing and making giant shadows on the wall.

This morning, I went out and took some pictures of our street. Wow! A lot of trees are down in my neighborhood.

This is right across the street from us. I actually heard the crack when it fell.

Here's what it looks like standing right in front of my house on my sidewalk.

This is the street across from ours.

Trees are everywhere!

I just can't believe entire trees broke in half.