I'm Sorry, Barbie

My birthday was fairly quiet this year. What made it truly special were the phone calls I received from the close friends that I hold dear and the wonderful birthday wishes from my Internet friends. Thank you!

March is a time of celebration for many people. In addition to Bruce Willis and Glenn Close, I was humbled to learn that I share my birthday month with a truly iconic girl…Barbie.

During the month that I turned 34, Barbie turned 50. And as much as it pains me to say, I think Barbie is aging better than I am.

So to Barbie, I say happy 50th. And since we're talking: I should probably confess something. In the debate over whether you have objectified women over the years, well, I objectified you.

Let me explain. I had an anti-Barbie mother. Her idea of “fun” was for my brother and I to keep a journal to chronicle the family vacations we took during the summer. To my Mom, Barbie was a symbol from an earlier time, a Stepford wife in waiting.

Sure, Barbie had a lot of professional careers. Over the years, she has been blond and brunette. White, black and Hispanic. Curly-haired and pony-tailed. Barbie's been an item with Ken, and then a single gal looking for love.

She has been an astronaut, a pilot and a flight attendant, a doctor, a nurse and a veterinarian, a NASCAR driver and the driver of a pink Corvette. In 2004, Barbie even ran for president. Her slogan: "Go Vote. Go Run. Go Lead. Go Girl."

Despite my mother’s misgivings, I did have one Barbie. She was a Christmas gift from my great-Aunt that we couldn't return. My sister had a Malibu Skipper, acquired in the same way.

And how did I play with my Barbie? I sent her looking for love. My Barbie got around.

One day, it was He-Man behind the sofa. Then, the next day, she was up and off to see Skeletor. Barbie made out with stuffed animals, hooked up with Hulk Hogan, and stole away for a moment with Boba Fett from Star Wars. Oh, and I'm sorry Boba didn't take his helmet off. He couldn’t.

I'm sure my mom was happy when, soon after we chopped off Barbie's hair to reveal a biker-gang look, my sister and I phased Barbie out. But I don't think she had anything to worry about in the first place. Barbie was never destined to be a permanent member of our household.

So happy birthday, Barbie. And please accept my apology. I hope you don't feel that I didn't respect your desire to be a fighter pilot, a teacher or a doctor.

Unless you had a good time with all that action. Then never mind.

-Francesca

Taking Green To An Extreme

My husband is a man of many layers. When busy at work, our household runs very smoothly. I am in charge of things at home and he focuses on what he needs to do. However, with the downturn in the economy, my man seems to have a bit more time on his hands than usual.

This is rarely a good thing.

Last weekend, my husband announced that our household was going to become a bit more environmental...more green, if you will. I nodded and didn't give the proclamation much thought. However, while taking out the trash yesterday, I noticed these in our backyard:

Kidding! Actually, ours are much more fashionable and modern. The latest in barrel design, really. See for yourself...

Yes, it seems that we are now collecting rainwater. At first, I was concerned that my husband wanted me to use the water inside our home. However, he assured me that the water will only be used in our yard.

I remain suspect, though. As a guy who feverently believes that bigger is better, I am sure it won't be long before he is trying to convince me of the benefits to changing our lifestyle so that we can be more like Colin Beavan and his family, a threesome who are trying to live for a year without creating any waste. What does this mean for the Beavan family exactly? For starters, no electricity, no transportation (including even public transportation), and no food that does not come from within a 250 mile radius of their hut, I mean home.

Actually, the Beavan family hasn't changed their residence since they embarked on their little journey. They are still living in New York, as opposed to the "earthship" made of tires that I am sure my family and I will be moving to in Taos, New Mexico before too long.

I wonder how much rainwater we would be able to collect in our barrels there?

I was also happy to read on Colin's blog that he and his family have not become part of the freeganism movement. Have you heard of this? Freeganism is an off-shoot of veganism, meaning that most followers avoid all products made from animals. What's more, the “free” part of their descriptor refers to how freegans get their victuals. What is the preferred method for finding free food you might ask? The answer to that question is simple: digging through the dumpster.

On the upside, dumpster diving is not as bad as you might imagine. Those that partake aren’t homeless, and many of them have 9-to-5 jobs. Freegans eat pretty well too, chowing down on practically fresh veggies, day-old bread, and canned goods.

They even have cool tee-shirts.

-Francesca

Just Call Me June

I'm a girl that likes her routine. Having certain days of the week dedicated the different activities helps to pass the time and keeps this Mom happy.

In our house, Mondays are dedicated to playdates. Each week, Giancarlo and his best buddy get together for a few hours. During the weeks that I play hostess, I usually try to get the kids outside to a local park, the zoo, the toy store...anywhere they will be sure to burn energy and take their almighty afternoon nap later in the day.

I always feel so accomplished when I travel around town with my posse of three kids. We hold hands, sing songs, run, yell. There is nothing that I can’t achieve as a Mom during these times. I AM June Cleaver…the woman who can cure most any boy problem with her cookie jar.

Given that, like June, I am able to realize Mom perfection during our Monday playdates, I am always surprised when people ask me, “Are they all yours?” or “Exactly how far apart are your boys?” What? Are you serious? Aside from the fact that the children you see before you are not all crying, didn't you notice the apron I’m wearing? Even if the kids are not all mine, I am a dedicated family woman. I have ladylike pastimes, such as needlepoint, cake decorating, and arranging tea roses. What’s more, after any playdate, I can usually be found in the kitchen chopping salad vegetables, basting a roast, or icing a cake.

After a conversation with a complete stranger at the park last week about how I could possibly manage three kids, I thought back to a comment exchange with Helene at I’m Living Proof that God Has a Sense of Humor. In an "interview" with Ellen DeGeneres, Helene described how she is questioned repeatedly by strangers about her two sets of twins.

After reading Helene’s post, I responded with the following comment:

I love people. Especially ones I don't know that ask incredibly dumb questions. Here is my suggested response for your next encounter with stupidity:

Stranger: Are they all yours?
Helene: No, no they are not. I just let them live in my home and devote all my money and every waking moment to them as part of my public service to humanity.

However, in light of my own recent experiences, I feel that I should do more for Helene and Moms to multiple children everywhere. Depending on your mood, the next time a stranger stops to ask you if your kids “are all yours,” here are a few suggestions.

If you are feeling positive, try these on for size...

1) I am proud to say, yes. I really think that Nadya Suleman is a reproductive miracle. I am attempting to follow in her great footsteps.
2) They are, but I am willing to deal. If you’ve got cash, I could rent them to you for a day or two.
3) They are. I am a recovering sex addict and had a lot of trouble with steps 1-11 of my 12 step program.

On your not-so-positive, extra sarcastic days, give these a whirl:

1) No, they are not all mine. I was thinking that you and I could flip a coin for them.
2) No. I thought they were yours. What kind of parent are you, leaving these beautiful children unattended? You should be reported.
3) Biologically, yes, but most days I am just really their unpaid household servant.
4) No, definitely not mine. They came with the package when I became a trophy wife.
5) I’m not sure. Let’s ask them.
6) Let’s play a game. I’ll answer your inappropriate questions only if you answer mine. Ready? I’ll go first. How many times do you have sex a month?

After thinking about it further, maybe I am more June Cleaver circa 2009, rather than 1957.

-Francesca

A Public Service Announcement

I come to you today, our dear, dear readers, with a public service announcement. A great distress has been weighing heavily on my mind for some time now. As you all know, I am a loyal fan of the blog world and heartily support anyone in their quest to become a more perfect “clicker.” However, I, along with Pope Benedict XVI, am concerned over the lack of faithfulness that may be occurring in blogdom. Kacey’s recent Facebook tag made me painfully aware of how many of you are cheating on Blogger, WordPress, and Xanga. I won’t go as far as to name names, but you know who are...clickers dishonoring their commitment to the blogosphere and spending endless amounts of time in Facebook “networking.”

And so, in my commitment to uphold the greater good and ensure that we keep our blogging craft pure and unadulterated, I have composed a list of reasons why you should feel compelled to blog and avoid the book entirely.

1. Friends are not requested nor suggested
Let's face it, friends are a pretty straightforward concept in blogdom. They are followers or commenters; those that de-lurk to show to you some love. In Facebook, who are these people that refer to themselves as friends?

Take me, for example. As testament to my dedication to this post, I sent everyone in Facebook with essentially the same name as me a request to be my friend. Although the spelling of our last name differs only by one letter, we share no connection.

All nine "Francesca's" confirmed me as a friend within just a few hours. Wow! What if I were some crazy cyber-stalker simply distinguising my true identity?

2. Who Really Understands How to Use Facebook?
Within the Facebook realm, there are simply too many different ways to communicate. Take the "poke," for example. What is it? I have tried to poke people and have been poked, but I still do not quite get it.

Maybe a visual would help.

From what I gather, a poke can be anything from "hey, how are you doing?" to "why haven't you answered my e-mail that I sent you five minutes ago?" Do we really need more forms of communication that no one understands?

3. Status Updates
One word: Ugh. If you are going to give me an update on what you are doing, please try to at least be somewhat creative. Rest assured that somewhere, someone is: tired, hungry, bummed to be at work, looking forward to the weekend, or recovering from a hangover.

Instead, think outside of the box. Why not spam everyone you know with one of the following:

• Fred feels ashamed of his smoking, but it's better that he smoke and help the dreams of the cigarette workers come true, than be selfish and worry about his lungs.
• Bill is at number 2 with nature.
• David is boxing in the Smart Car parked in his spot. Not so smart now are you, Mr. Smarty Smart Car?!?
• Angie is eating her weight in Valentine's Day chocolate.

Also, haven't you people heard of Twitter?

4. It Really Is Just Voyeurism

Honestly, let's just call Facebook what it really is: voyeurism at its finest. Are you truly interested in "reconnecting" with your highschool classmates? Or is the truth that you just want to check out their photos and confirm that you are in fact better looking, more financially well off, and have cuter kids than they do?

I think we all know what the answer to that question is.

My argument is compelling. Fellow bloggers, I urge you to stay true to our craft. Blog, don't look at the book.

-Francesca

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Play dates make me nervous. They always feel so much like “real dating.” It starts with a look, a glance between two Moms. An initial thought, "Check out that girl over there. She looks nice. Her kid looks clean.” After a bit of time, maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks, someone takes a chance and makes the first move. “We should get together sometime. Here is my phone number.” After the digit exchange, I know that it is best if I do not call right away. It is never wise to appear desperate at the beginning of a relationship.

Although the play date scene can be a bit treacherous, I have persevered. There are days, especially during the winter months, when Giancarlo needs a buddy his own age to interact with. A good play date makes him smile endlessly, wears him out, and always results in a good day for both of us.

Given all of this, I never thought it was possible for play dates to have a downside…a dark side, if you will.

What do you do when things unexpectedly go wrong? When you are deep into the play date relationship and suddenly, without warning, the dating stops? No explanation, no phone call, no e-mail, no text. It is just over.

A fictitious case study:
Giancarlo and I have been dating “Fred and Sally” for many months now. Things have been going along great. Sally and I trade-off having our boys at one another’s homes each week. The routine is simple: play, eat lunch, and sometimes watch a DVD. I felt good about the relationship, confident that our dating would last forever.

Out of the blue a few weeks ago, Sally stopped calling. At first I thought she was simply too busy to return my calls. I tried to explain the unexplainable by making excuses: maybe she is sick, maybe Fred is sick. Ultimately, I came to the reality that maybe she is just not that into me.

Like any bad ending to a relationship, I have been racking my brain, attempting to figure out what went wrong. Naturally, I first assumed it had something to do with Giancarlo. Was it the time that he didn’t want to go home and I had to physically man-handle him to get him into his carseat? The screaming was uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the unsolved mystery of how Sally's brand-new, just out of the box plasma screen TV was rendered completely useless. Was it Giancarlo or Fred who threw the truck and destroyed it? We may never know.

As my mind has been working at warp speed this week, I also came to the shocking reality that perhaps I’m to blame. Did I profess my love for Sally and Fred too early on? I tried to be witty, comb my hair, and appear wordly and well-informed. Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged Sally to read our blog. Was that too forward for the second date? I just thought that she felt the same connection I did.

Whatever the reason, I am sad and find myself desperately checking out other Moms wherever we go, trying to fill the void that Sally and Fred have created. I am dragging Giancarlo and Lucia to the park, even in the rain, and forcing them to look cute on command. So far, it is not working.

If only there was a sign, a way for me to look at another Mom and instantly know that we could make that dating connection.

How about a bracelet? Would that work? There are so many silicone bracelets available now for an endless number of causes. What if I created one for my cause?

I came up with a few ideas. I want to create a bracelet that not only establishes solidarity, but also says, "Hey, I'm a Mom and I am willing to commit. Let's be playdate pals forever."

-Francesca

My Man Cave

I don't remember when we turned off our cable and opted instead for a very basic package. In an effort to cut down on the number of hours spent watching TV, we subscribe to only a few children's cable channels, the Food Network, and the DIY (Do-It-Yourself) Network.

The good news is that our idea worked. Geoff and I do not watch as much TV as we used to. However, every good plan has its downside. Now, the programs we do watch are usually on the DIY Network and revolve around topics such as how to paint your kitchen cabinets or how to create faux-stone walls. Television at its finest!

One program that we recently came across was Man Caves. Have you seen it? Two hosts offer ideas and do-it-yourself instruction to turn a basic basement into the ultimate guys’ hangout. “Every guy needs a space to call his own … a sanctuary where boys can be boys, where life essentials include a wet bar, a poker table and a place to watch the game with the fellas.”

Some ideas are just pure brilliance. I was so inspired by this concept that I asked Geoff what he might like to have in his "man cave.” It took a bit to pull the answers out of him, but he eventually divulged that his ideal retreat would include a wet bar, flat screen TV, big arm chair, mini frig, pin ball machine, slot car race track, and massively loud stereo.

Hmmm....interesting, but can we do better? I have to admit that when I first envisioned Geoff's man cave, I thought it would be something incredibly grand. Maybe even along the lines of Snoop Dogg’s man cave.

Snoop’s cave keeps it real. In addition to his mini frig and custom couch made from the bumper of a 1961 Cadillac, Snoop has a direct line to his favorite restaurant…Denny’s. C'mon, do you really need anything more?

Of course, all of this discussion got me thinking about my ideal retreat. What would my man cave look like? Would it be anything like Snoop’s?

Indeed it would.

Meet my Pimped Out Powder Room:

Everything I need in a bathroom and more. Let's take a moment to discuss a few of the key features:

• A pro-style hair dryer, so that I may appear like "I just stepped out of a salon" at all times.
• A strategically placed laptop computer that allows me to conduct both my own business and my blog business at the same time.
• The Wii, located on top of the toliet, so that I may stay in shape without ever having to leave my powder room.
• As inspired by Snopp, a mini-frig, only pink.
• An all-in-one heated towel rack/TV/mirror, as shown on the wall on right-hand side of the picture.
• The Fusion Drink station, located on top of the mini-frig, so that I may offer refreshments to anyone who might pop by for a visit.

Naturally, there are a few features not shown above that would be important to include, such as photos of my family. I'm guessing that I will probably never want to leave my Pimped Out Powder Room, so it would be good to have small remembrances of what my husband and kids look like.

I'd also like to have the ability to put my powder room on "lock down," if needed. Sound proofing, gigantic locks, and video cameras would all be critial to ensure that my sanctuary is never breached unexpectedly. Think back to the movie, Panic Room, only way more pink.

-Francesca

Clickers!

Lately, it seems that everywhere I turn there is a discussion regarding the downside to blogging. Moms who feel guilty for letting their kids watch TV, for skipping household chores, or for ordering take-out, all in an effort to create a bit more time to post, comment, and increase their number of followers. My response to these “confessions” is always the same: What is the problem? Is there a drawback to the increasing amount of time people spend blogging?

I even came across a descriptor for those whose life may be taking a backseat to the computer…clickers.

You too may be a clicker if your life sounds anything like this:

I eat in haste to get back to my computer. Sometimes, I even neglect to eat at all or to drink sufficient water.
I rarely get dressed.
I log onto the computer in the morning, and before I know it, the day has passed.
Everyday chores feel like drudgery.
I have recently noticed that I think in a new pattern of short, choppy sentences.

Addiction, compulsion? My response is a resounding no. If you have taken the on-line blogging addiction quiz and your results range only in the 60-70th percentile range, there is something wrong. In my opinion, you should re-consider your commitment to the internet and spend more time, not less, on the computer.

Here is why:

1. To achieve flawlessly beautiful skin.

Since I became much more committed to posting and commenting, I rarely leave the house. This eliminates my having to worry about harmful UV rays, holes in the ozone layer, and skin cancer entirely.

2. Blogging is guaranteed to help you lose weight.

It is true! Eating is simply too time-consuming for a serious blogger. I have found that I am to sustain myself for days on end through the power of energy drinks and M&Ms.

3. To be a more worldly and better informed individual.

Everything you need to know may be found on the internet. Not only do I find that I am more up-to-date on current events, but people seem fascinated by what I have to say. Case in point: The Superficial is my one-stop source for all breaking news events. Over the course of the past three days alone, I have learned that Paris Hilton is bringing back the bedazzled look, Joaquin Phoenix is launching a rap career, and Kim Kardashian is making an exercise video. Gripping!

4. It is your civic responsibility.

If my kids decide that they are not going to take a nap during the day, I often find myself having to cut out sleep entirely from my routine. During very late night and early morning blogging, I can now be a one-woman crime fighting force. Should local thugs decide to rob our car or mug my neighbor again, I am now awake and can be dialing 9-1-1 so fast that even McGruff the Crime-Fighting Dog would be proud.

-Francesca

Cashing In

Much to Geoff’s dismay, Giancarlo is an early riser, similar to me. He is normally awake and ready for breakfast sometime around 6:00 a.m. On weekdays, this is not an issue. However, on weekends, when Geoff would love nothing more than to be able to “sleep in” until 7:00, Giancarlo usually has other plans.

The scene at our house last Sunday was no different...

Giancarlo, whispering: “Mom, I am going to sneak into the room and say thank you for Christmas to Dad.”
Me: “Maybe we should just let Dad sleep, baby.”
Giancarlo: “No, I have to say thank you.”

He peeks in the room, “Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,” each time a bit louder than the last.
Geoff groans. “Dad, thank you for Christmas. Dad, are you sweeping? Dad, I want to give you a kiss.”
Giancarlo pulls himself up on the bed, tearing all of the covers off of Geoff, and then literally falls on top of him. “Ouch. Sorry, Dad. I wub you.”

Whispering again, “Mama, Dad is still sweeping. Should I wake him up with musak? I will play my drums for him.”

And so it begins. The band starts to joyfully play and march in our bedroom at 6:30. “Woo-cia, let’s do band. Here you play too.”

Upon receiving a set of plastic toy instruments from his grandfather, Giancarlo decided early on that Lucia would play the kazoo. Yes, my baby girl walks around our house, blowing air and salvia out of a kazoo.

The musical talent in my household does not stop there. As Giancarlo has showed me time and again, why play one instrument, when you can play two at the same time?

It seems a pity that this musical genius is seen only by a sleepy Dad on a Sunday morning. Fortunately, a post on Forever Folding Laundry inspired me to dream bigger.

I have a number of friends with kids around the same age as mine. Why not combine forces for our own economic gain? We might have to start out singing in malls, but I am sure it wouldn't be long before we could conquer the world Hannah Montana style with DVDs, pillows, party supplies, clothes, and toys.

Of course, given our children's age, they could probably benefit from having some sort of "mentor"...a guide to help them navigate the treacherous waters of fame and fortune.

Sasha Fierce, are you interested?

-Francesca

Special thanks to my dear friend, Gina, who directed me to the Faceinhole.com website. Without her, this post would not have been possible.

A Career Change

The new year is definitely in full swing and, for me, it brings with it the daunting reality that I may be in need of a job soon. My "job" as a student is coming to an end in March. After that, I will again be faced with the "what are you going to do now?" question. I am not sure that saying I am simply "keeping my options open" will work too well anymore. And, as much as I would love to be a SAHM, it just might not be my reality.

However, as I mentioned last week, I am committed to my resolution to be creative and think outside the box. Subsequently, I put my thinking cap on over the weekend and came up with three career paths that I think I am well qualified for and would provide me with plenty of job satisfaction.

1. A Meteorologist

I have been a fan of the weather for a long, long time. You could probably even categorize me as a weather geek. Want to know the forecast for the next 7-10 days? Just ask me. In addition to checking our blog and e-mail on a daily basis, I also check weather.com.

I even have a favorite weather guy. (Don't you?) His name is Steve Paulson and he appears, much to my daily delight, on KTVU, or Channel 2 in the Bay Area.

2. The Next Food Network Star

I have watched season after season of this show and almost died at the mediocrity that the judges have selected as "winners." I mean, Guy Fieri, really? That guy annoys me beyond belief.

I think I would make a much better contestant and subsequent host for The Food Network. I even checked out the application requirements for the upcoming season of The Next Food Network Star, which include cooking know-how, personality that pops, and teaching skills. Yep, I think I have that covered.

More importantly, I have an IDEA. My cooking show would be centered primarily on everyday life and celebrations...wait for it...for parents. Here is the premise: a 30 minute segment focused on food/menus for adults and children not only for major holidays, such as Thanksgiving, but also for less appreciated days, like rainy days when you can't go outside, graduations, and the day Mom is assigned to bring treats.

3. A back-up dancer for Britney, Beyonce, and/or Janet

Honestly, I am not picky. I'll dance for any of my favorite ladies. I don't need to be in the limelight either. Just the behind the star girl, busting her hip hop moves all over the stage.

If this option is a bit difficult for you to envision, I decided to go the extra mile and provide a visual...

See? There I am. It could so work. I tell Geoff all the time that he would just need to hire help when I go on tour.

-Francesca

Hotty in Hot Pink

I’ve known my husband a long time. 20 years to be exact. We met when I was a very young and naïve 13-year freshman in high school. It is somewhat comical now to look back on that girl. Boy, did I think I was the very epitome of cool. An endless amount of time was dedicated to my appearance, especially my clothes. I even remember what I was wearing when I first met my husband. I arrived at our geometry class decked out head to toe in clothing from the Wet Seal. To this day, he and I still joke about that outfit: a blue and white striped jean mini-skirt and a white knit sweater with a scalloped collar. I think it made my mother physically ill to buy those clothes, but given that I was starting high school, she acquiesced to my pleas and allowed me to pick out one outfit completely on my own.

Other memories from that time in my life are not quite so vivid. I remember some names, faces, and events, but most moments have simply faded away with time. Or so I thought.

Fast forward to today. My husband, Geoff, and I have been married for six years, have two children, and are leading an otherwise normal life. We don’t talk much about our history together simply because we are so caught up in the everyday chaos of kids, work, and school. Even though we may not reminisce about our time in high school, it is apparently closer to my husband's heart than I realized.

As it is Not-Me Monday, I thought I would share this tidbit with the blogging community: I did not discover that my husband is still carrying around my high school prom picture in his wallet…20 years later.


Here I am with my prom date, Marc, in all my hot pink glory: a hot pink dress, hot pink shoes, and even hot pink finger nails. Upon close inspection of the photo, I noticed that although it appears that I tried to reconcile the height difference between my date and I with the height of my hair, it did not work. It would have undoubtedly been easier if I had just worn high heels. I also realized that there must have been some sort of communication problem with Marc, as his is adorned in grey and soft pink tones, thereby violating the all-important male/female color coordination rule.

I flipped the photo over and read what I wrote on the back:

To Geoff (my best friend),
I’m really glad that I got to know you this year.
It has truly been an “experience” sitting by you in math.
We’ll have to go out soon.
Keep in touch,
Francesca

P.S. “93” rules

After 20 years, Geoff and I have an untold number of photos at various stages in our life together. Most pictures were taken on days when my hair was not frozen in place with Aqua Net and you couldn’t spot me from 30 paces because of the color of my clothes. Why would he still carry around this picture?

The answer: It reminds him of our beginning; the point when our two lives first intersected. Through all of our high’s and low’s together, he likes to be able to glimpse back on where we started and realize just how far we have come.

-Francesca

PS: Don’t forget to enter the Three Bay B Chicks' Giveaway for the Loom Go-Tote Bag. Contest ends this Wednesday, November 19.

Too Many To Mention

MckMama at My Charming Kids had her fourth child last week. While I send her family many well wishes and congratulatory thoughts, I am more than slightly petrified at the thought of her and her husband raising four children, all under the age of four. However, if anyone has the strength and fortitude to do so, it is definitely MckMama.

In light of MckMama’s momentous occasion, there is some question as to whether Not-Me-Monday will occur today. (Something about needing a break after having a child a few days ago…) If the blog carnival does forge ahead, I thought I would be prepared.

I only have one Not-Me confession this week.

I did not laugh out loud when I came up with a name
for my alter ego.

I read last week that Beyonce Knowles has officially changed her name to “Sasha Fierce”. She explained that she has “someone else that takes over when it’s time for her to work and when she’s on stage. Sasha Fierce is the fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side that comes out when she’s working and when she’s on the stage.” Although a very obvious marketing gimmick for her new album (scheduled to drop on November 18), I was fascinated by this idea. If Beyonce can do it, then why can’t I?

Going forward, I have decided that I would like to be known as “Fran Fierce”. Fran Fierce is my alter ego. It developed soon after I had children, but I have only recently recognized it as a completely different side to my personality. Fran Fierce is my less sensual, much more outspoken, and drastically less glamorous side.

A few photos to illustrate what I am saying:

Here I am probably about a year before I had my first child. This photo was taken in Las Vegas, with my husband, on a very late night out. Note the happy, relaxed, slightly drunk smile I have. There are no signs of fatigue, my clothes are super fun, and my general carefree approach to life is sincere.

Fast forward to earlier this year. Here I am on my 33^rd birthday, three months after my daughter was born. This is Fran Fierce. She is desperately sleep deprived, probably has not showered in 24 (or was it 36?) hours, and may be mistaken as having a recent encounter with a wild animal as her hair has not been combed in days.

Would you like to hazard a guess as to which photo I have posted on my Facebook profile?

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Another award! Well, when it rains, it pours. Thank you for the blog love, Keri!

This time we are naming five things we love. I believe I speak for each of the Three Bay B Chicks when I present the following:

1. Red wine and chocolate in Italy
2. Slingapore Slings and good friends in Hawaii
3. Champagne and a day at the spa in Napa
4. Sazerac cocktails and good jazz in New Orleans
5. Gin and tonics and a night out in San Francisco

I now pass the blog love along to June Cleaver Nirvana, From the Planet of Janet, Mary, and A Latte Talk.

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I love the quirky way Americans "name" the different months of the year. (Does any other country do this?) Unbeknownst to me, November has significance beyond Thanksgiving. It is American Diabetes Month, National Novel Writing Month, Lung Cancer Awareness Month, National Peanut Butter Lover’s Month, National Alzheimer’s Disease Awareness Month, and National Blog Posting Month. What does this all mean? For us, we will be posting on our blog everyday for a month and eating more peanut butter.

Hopefully, the other Three Bay B Chicks will support this endeavor, since I signed us up for the blogging challenge this morning prior to obtaining group consensus. I did manage to avoid the commitment to write a novel, which I am sure they will be thankful for.

-Francesca