End of year Top 5: Funniest Things our Kids Have Said

5) Seven-year-old: "What happens if one hipster goes into another hipster's territory?"
Dad:"Are you thinking of gangsters?"
"Oh, yeah."

4) Eight-year-old: "I bet when I get a masters degree in plant sciences I'll get a bunch of money."
Me: "Well, it depends on what kind of job you get."
8yo: "Wait, I thought when you graduate from college you get a bunch of money."
Me: "No, you have to get a job."
8yo: "Oh."

3) Eight-year-old : "This magazine is so old it has an ad for the iPhone 4S!”

2) Eight-year-old: "Personally, I think The Wizard of Oz is the worst movie ever. Except for some little kid movies."

1) Mom: “Guys, I need to have some quiet time to work on my writing.”
*90 seconds pass*
7-year-old: “Mom, can you put something about kung fu in your story?

Sad but important

The first selection for the new MOMS club book group is very entertaining but also has a serious side: one of the main characters is in an abusive marriage. As the story moves along, a couple characters start to sense what's going on. This made me wonder if I could recognize the signs and if I have the tools to support a friend going through this. To that end, here are some tips for friends of abuse victims:

• Let them know that the abuse is not their fault. Reassure them that they are not alone and that there is help and support out there. 
• Be non-judgmental; there are many reasons why victims stay in abusive relationships. They may leave and return to the relationship many times.
• Encourage them to call a hotline like 1-800-799-SAFE.
• Remember that you can not rescue them; ultimately they have to to decide what they will do.

Learn more from The Hotline.

Reflecting on this reminded me of the time I joined my first moms' club: just before I joined, one of the moms killed herself (or, as they put it, "lost her battle with postpartum depression"). I think some members of the group blamed themselves for not  recognizing the signs or doing more, which isn't helpful, but it did make me think about what I could do. 

Here are some signs of PPD:

• Hopelessness about the situation getting better
• Refusal to eat, or binge eating
• Rage and resentment
• Lack of bonding to the baby
• Sense of numbness or disconnectedness

There are lots of resources for PPD sufferers (here's a state-by-state listing of support groups and a link to an online forum). If you think a friend has PPD, the best advice (based on my Internet research) is to physically be there for them, or call if you can't be there. Then encourage them to get help. And ask them what you can do for them. If nothing else, offer to hold the baby so they can take a shower or a nap. Bring them a meal. They probably won't turn either of those down.

Manic Monday

I’m calling Amy Poehler’s memoir a flop. It has its moments, but it’s no Bossypants.

I fear it may soon be time for The Talk with the 7- and 9-year-olds: Why We Don’t Watch the Second Indiana Jones Movie in Our House.

Why comment on a blog post or news story when there are already 200 comments?

Why can’t I reply to a comment on facebook?

Top Five “St Louis Things” I’ve learned about since moving here

Telling a joke when trick-or-treating

Gooey butter cake (stop stalking me, gooey butter cake!)

Bob Costas isn’t hanging around anyplace I go

Trivia nights

No one knows how to use four-way stops

Throw-back-thursday: Obama meets Bartlett.

Easiest blog post ever! Please enjoy this throwback to 2008 (that was a weird one, eh?). I'm just go write some West Wing fan fic.

Trick or Treat

Something’s been bugging me about Halloween. See, around here kids are supposed to tell a joke to get their candy (doing a little dance is an acceptable alternative; one of my favorites was the moonwalking girl).

Constipation jokes were popular this year. (What did the constipated hot dog say?) And there were a few Cubs-related gems that were very much appreciated by the recovering Cub fan that lives in our house.

But one joke bugged me then and bugs me still. More specifically, it’s my reaction to it that bugs me.

Middle-school-age Kid: “What’s the difference between a pencil and a girl’s argument?”

Me (frowning): “What.”

Kid: “A pencil has a point.”

How did I react? Did I yell at him, tell him to get off my porch? Say “No candy for you!” in my best Soup Nazi voice? Say, “No sexist jokes on my street, get outta here.” Alas, my confrontation-avoiding self frowned some more and tossed the twerp a Tootsie Roll and shut the door.

WhyTF didn't I tell him off or at least give him a lecture about how his joke is sexist and awful and he better think of a new one. Or something. I guess next year I need to have a script prepared. There are few feelings more disappointing then knowing you should have said something and didn't.