I’m not sure if this post will actually make it onto mybloggers tonight. For starters, my computer and Internet have joined forces in a conspiracy against me and have both been acting rather dink-ish as of late. Second of all, I should really be hauling my ass into a hot bath and washing meself. Mona is here, in all her raging glory (you should all consider yourselves very, very lucky that I haven’t blogged about the war my uterus has waged on me) and she makes me itchy as Hell, like I’m constantly filthy.

However, it’s been a while since I posted something. I meant to write over the weekend…shit…I meant to do a LOT of things over the weekend. I had big, BIG plans for this weekend past. I just didn’t realize how fucking exhausted I was until I laid my sorry ass on the couch in an attempt to watch Temple Grandin Friday night. So, no, there was no bad art made, no Christmas shopping completed and I didn’t manage to overhaul my bedroom like I had been planning. I did clean out the closet a bit, though, and finally stored away my Capri pants and summer shirts which was very, very depressing. I have, literally, three pairs of pants. And I did have dinner with my parents on Saturday night and managed to upload of new photos of the kids onto facebook. So, I guess that counts as accomplishing something.

But it’s not much, I know.

I slept like the dead on Friday night. I don’t think I even moved once in the night, waking only after eight and a half hours of solid sleep. Like I said, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was and just how much of a toll the previous three weeks had taken on me, what with the never-ending stream of appointments for Julian and two weekends in a row with the kids and a PA day and Olivia getting the flu and the bullshit storms from Troy, until I actually relaxed a bit. I needed the two days to re-group and recharge my batteries, so to speak.

The good news is that while I didn’t accomplish much of anything (oh, except I did realize why there were so many copies of Sex and the City Two at Blockbuster. That movie sucked some serious ass. It might have been better had they come up with an actual plot but I’m not a filmmaker, so what do I know?) I do feel miles and miles better. Saturday morning I woke up feeling better than I had in weeks. Ah, the power of a little bit of sleep.

Today, of course, was baptism by fire but I expected that. The kids are always a little “off” after a weekend with their Dad. Add to that the fact that Troy has this week off and is spending it in the bush with his Dad and some other male, hunting-happy friends and family and not with his children (in fact, his holidays mean that they will see him less than they would if he was working) and I’ve got a couple of grumps.

But that is not why I decided to log on instead of getting into the bath! Oh no! While the computer was re-starting and humming and whirring in a most disconcerting way, I decided to watch TV. Now, for the record, I don’t watch much television. Actually, almost none at all once you remove the Jersey Shore and Teen Mom (which are both finished for the season…Hey! Do you think that might have something to do with stressed out state lately? I haven’t been getting my reality show escape! I’ve had no escape at all!). But the book I picked up at Value Village this weekend, a trilogy called “The Christmas Box” is creeping me out a bit. I know…it’s not supposed to creepy! It’s a Christmas book! The cover said “heart-warming”! I’m a big fan…huge fan… of heart warming. And I could use a little warming, to tell you the Dog’s honest truth. But yeah, it’s slightly creepy and reading it alone at night gives me the willies. So, that’s how I ended up turning on the TV.

Now before I go any further, you should know that I don’t get good channels. I’m cheap. And poor. Not necessarily in that order. I have the most basic satellite available. No speciality channels except what comes in the basic package. This is also why I don’t watch much television. I’m not lying when I say nothing is on (oh, except I’m addicted to the Amazing Race. Anyone else out there an Amazing Race addict? I’m glad that kid and his Dad finally bit it. I was getting tired of watching the son’s lack of faith in his father…every episode, it seemed, he was complaining about how long it took his Dad to do something or sighing and saying he should have taken the challenge…but I digress).

Anyway! I am getting a free preview of some Twist channel. I checked it out, as I am a big fan of the free preview. They were playing some show called, “Little Miss Perfect” which was about those beauty pageants for little girls.

Now, I don’t like to judge. I try very hard not to judge others, actually. And I don’t like to judge other parents especially. Because parenting is hard and I get judged a LOT by people for the way I raise my children.

But, um, what’s up with those pageant moms?! Is it me? Or is this some kind of fucked up shit? Dressing their little girls up like that, with the hairspray and the makeup and the false smile and the little hip wiggle in front of a panel of judges in some crappy hotel banquet room that holds roughly three times as many chairs than needed…

Here I am, fighting tooth and nail to teach my girls to live by their own rules, to set their own standards, to be themselves and worrying about iCarly and pre-reading their pre-teen magazines and those Moms are instilling, as early as possible, that it is other people standards to worry about. That your best is never really quite good enough…that their daughters are never really good enough…that beauty is determined first by how you look on the outside and above all, is judged by someone else. * shudder * For what? A thousand dollar prize? Is that part of the lesson? Your beauty is worth a thousand dollars? YOU are worth a thousand dollars?!

One woman’s little girl lost (yes, I watched until the end. I know, I suck. But the computer was still warming up! And that book wasn’t getting any less creepy! There is music coming from a box in the attic, okay? In the book…not in real life. And get this… there is NO mechanism to play music! It’s not a music box! And this dude is dreaming of an angel and a baby died and this old woman has a brain tumour…Creepy. Really creepy. Okay, I have to end this bracket).

Right, so the Mom of the little girl who lost says to the camera, after pretty much ignoring her daughter after the loss and staring straight ahead, looking rather disgusted, “Now I have to go home and explain to my little girl why the judges didn’t think she was pretty enough.”

Um. You entered her into the competition, right? It’s not exactly mandatory. So, while I really don’t want to judge, I can’t help but wonder what exactly you thought you were doing when you entered her into a beauty pageant!

Okay. Enough of the rant. It’s the bad television…I’m not myself.

However, if there are any pageant moms out there or anyone who knows a pageant mom or if you’re a former beauty queen yourself…can you fill me in? Because I’m pretty sure I’m missing something.

Page three?! How did I get to page three?! I talk too much. I’m going to have a bath.

Good night, all.