Top 10 Things I Hate About Sleep Away Camp With My Kids

This isn't camping. It's just camp. I'm not sleeping in a tent or anything crazy like that.  (Can you imagine me in a tent??)  I'm staying at something that would like to bill itself as more of a “retreat center” than a KOA.  Ha. If this is a retreat center then I guess I could never stay anywhere really camp-like. Here's something for the suggestion box: If you're going to call yourself a retreat center you better have kickass WiFi everywhere. Also, you should have some place for me to sit when I check my email on your kickass WiFi - not my bunkbed.

Already I'm having withdrawal symptoms and last night when I figured out that the lodge I'm staying in has no WiFi, I about had a panic attack and threatened to pack up the car and go home.  I took a deep breath and asked around.  I soon figured out that I just need to go to a different lodge to get online, so I calmed down and spent the night.

I tucked my children into bed and they dreamily said to me, "I'm so happy we're here.  I love it, Mama."  

"Mmm...hmmm," I replied and then I settled down in my impossibly uncomfortable bed and tossed and turned thinking about how much I don't love it here and how un-happy I was.  So, of course, I got up and made a list:

Top 10 Things I Hate About Sleep Away Camp With My Kids

1.  The beds. Bunkbeds really lose their appeal after about age 10. I'm sleeping on the bottom bunk, so I feel claustrophobic and it's so narrow I'm sure I'm going to roll out. The top bunks are so high that I'm not letting my kids sleep in them. Remember, this is the place where Gomer hit his head so hard last year that I had to take him to the ER and Adolpha has just come out of a cast, so I'm not taking any chances. They're sleeping on mattresses on the floor and they're not very thrilled. They're smart not to whine though, they know what I'll make good on my threats to pack up.

2.  The food. True, I don't have to make any meals this week. Instead, I just have to guess what I'm eating. I think that might be eggs, but I've never seen eggs with that consistency.  Fuck it, I didn't have to cook. Thank goodness there is always a salad bar to graze if dinner isn't appealing. Besides the mystery meat, I always have to keep an eye out for errant bugs. Last year the cook left granola out for breakfast and when I put a bowl of it in front of Gomer, he took a bite and said, "Hmm...that's weird, my granola is moving." Yeah, there were bugs in it.  Protein!

3.  The noise. The first year I came Adolpha was 2 and I was the lady with the screaming baby at night. This year I realized I have little or no patience for that anymore. That is horrible of me to say because people were very kind to me (at least they were to my face) when Adolpha would keep the entire lodge up with her ear splitting refusals to go to bed. I should be kinder, but last night I was at my wit's end. Lucky for me, my mother is here and she offered to put my kids to bed and she sent me on a quiet walk. (She really doesn't want me to pack up and leave.)

4.  The lack of privacy. I am sharing a room with both of my children, my mother, my grandmother and my aunt. Privacy isn't even a word in this room. Poor Gomer has been getting an eyeful of old, wrinkled flesh even though we keep sending him out of the room while the women get dressed. He leaves, but he neglects to close the door behind him so our door wide open for the world to see our old, wrinkled flesh. You're welcome, teenage boys living across the hall. I know that sight made your list of top 10 things you hate about camp too.

5.  The showers. This morning I waited 15 minutes and still never got any hot water. I finally jumped in and did my business as quickly as I could. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to count swimming as bathing. After a second cold shower, my mother, who is the brains of the group, realized that our shower was plumbed backwards. So that means, COLD is hot and HOT is cold.

6.  The bugs. I mentioned the bugs in the granola, right? Bugs are everywhere here. Just writing this made my skin crawl like something was trying to get me. I'm convinced that bugs are everywhere at camp. I'm also convinced they are bigger than normal and much more fierce. I think this is genetic, because last night both kids told me they were being “followed by hornets.”

This is the kind of hornet I imagine!

7.  The lack of storage. You need clothes (at least two outfits a day since it's so dirty), bedding, towels for showers, towels for the pool, toiletries, food (I mentioned the mystery meat, right?), lovies, drying racks, rugs (we don't like to touch the floor with our bare tootsies), toys and books, but where do you put it all in a 10x10 room with 6 people?

8.  Rain. One word: mud. 

9.  When the pool gets closed down.  There was a blow out.  The swim diaper kind.  On the first day.  Whoops.  It happens.  The pool is contaminated and today it was closed.  It actually wasn't bad, because my kids went boating and they barely missed the pool.  If it's still closed tomorrow, it could be a problem.  

10.  The first night. Even though this is my fourth year attending this camp, I still have a hard time that first night. The reality of what I'm about to do really sets in and I get very grumpy. I'm arrive caffeinated, plugged in, and doped up on television and Target. It's like detox. I don't sleep well the first night; I can't get comfortable and I can't relax (I'm sure there are bugs I my bed, the noise is driving me crazy, and I feel the top bunk creeping closer to me).

UPDATE:  Even though I wrote this on the first night, I couldn't get a decent enough WiFi signal to actually post the mofo.  I'm now finishing day 2 and getting ready for day 3 all the toxins are out of my body and I'm so exhausted from all the fun we're having I won't have trouble sleeping tonight.  We had fun today boating and eating ice cream.  Tonight was my favorite night:  Talent Show night.  My kids sang a song.  I decided that next year I'm going to write a Top 10 List for Gomer to deliver.  The kid loves making a crowd laugh and between the two of us I think we could kill 'em.

BlogHer, Book Signings, Pooping, and Puking - My Weekend

Well, I am back from BlogHer and I am so freaking tired! But I feel good! There is nothing like being with like-minded people to recharge your battery. I feel energized and ready to get to work - right after I take a nap. 

This year the conference was held in Chicago and I had a ton of fun.

I arrived a day early so I could finally spend some time with Nikki at Moms Who Drink and Swear and my BlogHer roomie Robin O'Bryant from Robin's Chicks. I got to ride in the official MWDAS minivan when Nikki picked me up at the airport. Only a few people stared at us while we screamed and hugged for a little too long. Then we picked up Robin and Nikki proceeded to wine and dine us. Well, actually just wined and dined me while Robin watched. See Robin is on a super duper high impact diet (she looks fan-freaking-tastic by the way) and she's half way to her goal. She's in ketosis. (Which I'm not sure what that means except that it can give you really bad breath, so we had a code word that if she had bad breath I would say, "Robin, do you have a piece of gum?" and I'd wag my eyebrows really subtly so no one would know what I was talking about. I'm happy to report she's a good brusher and I never had to do that once.) Anyways, this ketosis thing is serious and if she cheats even ONCE her body will revolt and she will be back to square one. Of course she has absolutely no desire to do that, so instead she huffed everyone's food all week. 

Have you ever lived with someone who can't eat or drink anything except protein shakes and chicken broth? It is the guiltiest feeling in the world to shove food down your gullet while your friend sits there with her ice water and swears “I'm fi-aaahhhh-nnnnn, ya'll!” (that's my written impression of Robin's Mississippi accent). That girl was a rock. She has a steel will like none I've ever seen. I, on the other hand, felt I needed to eat for two since Robin wasn't consuming.

Besides rooming together, Robin and I also put together a session on self publishing. We were joined by Lela Davidson. We had a great turnout and I think people learned something. We only had 45 minutes, but with the three of us talking, we could have gone on all day!

It was so cool to meet so many of the bloggers who I read. I got to laugh like a hyena the whole time. I would like to apologize to anyone who I spit drinks, food, and just general spittle upon. I think every meal I ate was a choking hazard, because every single time I found myself laughing so hard I almost died - literally from that chunk stuck in my throat. I also got to reconnect with old friends I made last year. I think one of my favorites is Leslie AKA The Bearded Iris. She is funny online, but in person she is hysterical. Anyone who greets people, "Get over here and hug me, you hooker clown" is good people. Meanwhile, "hooker clown" is totally going into my repertoire now.

The highlight of the weekend was the book signing for I Just Want to Pee Alone. A couple of months ago, we realized there would be 14 contributors at BlogHer and so the ridiculously organized powerhouse that is Kim Bongiorno flew into action. With her help and her constant - oops, I mean timely - reminders we were able to get it done. (Seriously, it probably would not have happened without Kim keeping me on task. Thank you, Kim.) Lucky for us, Kim's in-laws own a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel where we were staying. Guess what the restaurant was called? Yup. Bongiorno's. (Chicago people, if you need some delicious food and you want to meet the most adorable family ever, please go see them and bring your stretchy pants.) We took over their outdoor patio space along the waterfront and had a book signing and reading under the stars! It was bananas. We had a ton of people show up (thank goodness or else we would have looked really stupid sitting there) and it was so cool to meet everyone. If you came Friday night: Thank you, thank you, thank you! It meant so much to all of us.

Nicole Shaw Leigh entertaining the crowd. (Photo source: Insane in the Mom-Brain)

We had a few people who read their pieces to the crowd. I wasn't going to read, but then I had a funny little story that happened to me and I could tell that. Wanna hear it? 

OK, twist my arm. Here we go:

On Thursday morning the conference hadn't started yet and we had some time to kill, so Robin and I headed over to Nordstrom Rack to see if we could find some deals. When we got to the store we split up and started shopping. We'd occasionally text one another to say where we were. Robin would text: "I'm in shoes. Flip flops are a steal. Come over here!" and I'd text back, "Are there any Crocs?" (there were, by the way, but I resisted buying another pair). After a while, I realized I needed to use the facilities, so I texted Robin, "Heading to the bathroom." 

She has told me since that when that text came in, she had a feeling of dread creep up on her and she almost texted me a warning, but then changed her mind. 

I headed into the Ladies' Room and I saw three stalls. The first one was clearly occupied as I could see a skirt in a pile on the floor and bare feet. I hesitated for a moment wondering if someone was stealing clothes, but at that point, I didn't have time to worry. I've had two kids and as I get older I don't have much time between "Gee, I need to pee" and "Oh crap, I'm going to pee my pants." I was doing the dance, because I was at the pants peeing stage and I really couldn't stop and worry about shoplifters. 

I quickly jumped into the second stall with only a second or two to spare and relieved myself. As I sat there contemplating what I could do to achieve world peace, I heard a thunk in the stall next to me and I saw a pair of panties hit the floor. I realized then I wasn't dealing with a shoplifter. 

It was immediately clear that the woman beside me had pooped her pants. 

Now, I had a dilemma at this point. I was still mid-stream, so there wasn't much I could do immediately, except think about her delicate situation. Just moments before I myself had a near miss and could easily understand how this could happen. I felt bad for her. 

Should I acknowledge her problem and offer to help? I could run out and buy her a clean pair of panties. But would she want a stranger to help her? Or would that be more embarrassing? Should I just ignore and pretend I didn't see her soiled undies casually tossed inches from my feet? I was confused.

I was just finishing my business when I decided I would offer to get her some clean underwear. I was getting myself put back together when suddenly the bathroom door banged open and someone ran into the third stall (the one on the other side of me) and began to hurl her guts into the bowl.

Are you kidding me?? One chick shitting her pants and the other barfing her lungs out? 

I was done. I was out. I couldn't get involved. A pooper and a puker?? I am not a nice person. I can barely help my kids when they have accidents. I can go and buy a pair of clean panties for someone and toss them over the door, but I can't hold a strangers hair and help hit the mark. I can't offer to help one and leave the other.

No. No. No. I just want to pee alone!

I quickly buttoned my pants and ran out of the bathroom (nope, I didn't even stick around to wash my hands - that's how serious I was about getting away). I practically collided into a Nordstrom Rack employee. "Is everything OK?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "I think someone could use some help in the bathroom."

Sorry, Nordstrom girl, but I've done my part. 

Open Letter to Catherine and William

Dear Catherine and William,

Well, it sounds like the royal uterus is vacant once again. Congratulations you two. You've done it. You've got the heir, and you've got some time to work on a spare. Welcome to the toughest job you'll ever love (no, it's not the Peace Corps).

Source: Lego

I don't have much advice for royal parents, except maybe don't let the other royals get too close to him - especially the Queen. (What is her deal? Can she never just be happy? She's the Queen of England for goodness sake - smile!) Look, you guys seem FAIRLY normal (as normal as royalty can be on yachts in exotic places and greeting millions of adoring fans all while looking smashing) and the others just seem completely off their rocker. Oh! I've got another word of advice: Maybe don't let him know he's going to be King until like the day before? That's a lot of pressure to put on a kid and can you imagine a toddler who knows that someday he'll be a real king? Toddlers are already little dictators, trust me, you can't give them that kind of power! Make him think that he's going to have to grow up and work in a fast food restaurant to earn money for a state college (or the British equivalent) instead.

Now, let's get to the real issue at hand: What are you going to name him? I know you've been thinking about this for awhile and so have I. I'm a big fan of names like Henry and James, but don't do Hennree or Jaymes or else I'll never buy the commemorative plate. I'm trusting you guys not to screw this up. All I have left is the royal family to keep the sanctity of proper name spelling going.

No pressure, but no one is going to take King Jax very seriously.

Well, I should let you two get some sleep. If you find yourself up for a midnight feeding and you can't get back to sleep, try reading my new book I Just Want to Pee Alone (the title will make sense to you very soon) or follow me on Facebook and Twitter.

Love,

Jen

And now the immortal words of Jen Lancaster: "You know what Kate Middleton isn't going to name her baby? North."

So what do YOU think Kate and Will WON'T name their baby?

Come and See Me?

Hey you guys, there is a lot going on right now and I wanted to circle back so I could bring you up to speed so that we can all be on the same page and shit. (Can you tell that I've been overhearing way too many corporate types on the phone lately??)

As you know, I'm in New York City this week. Besides seeing friends and family, I met my agent and my editor for the first time in real life. EEEK! Luckily, I liked them both! Can you imagine how awkward that conversation would have gone if I didn't??? If really looks like this book thing is happening. I was glad to hear that, because I've spent my entire summer indoors and away from my kids writing my manuscript.

Yesterday we drove up to New Hampshire, to visit my friend, Mary. We're going to hang out here for a couple of days and sample the chowdah and do a little composting. After this we'll go back to NYC for a bit longer then finally home for a few days.

Then I wash my clothes really fast and I hop back on a plane for Chicago to attend BlogHer. I'll be at BlogHer from July 24-27. Are any of you guys going? If you are, I'd love to say hello.

Besides the bar, there are a few places you can guarantee to find me at BlogHer:

The first is Friday where I'll be presenting with Robin O'Bryant and Lela Davidson on the topic Is Self-Publishing for You? Between the three of us, we've learned a lot and we're ready to share all of our tips, tricks, secrets, and missteps.

That same night I'll be the Voices of the Year Community Keynote. Once again I was chosen as a Voice of the Year. It's a really exciting honor and I'm happy that so many of my blogging friends were also chosen this year. I wasn't selected as a reader, but I did read the VOTY piece at Listen to Your Mother in May and you can see me reading it here.

I'll be there for the readings and then I need to high tail it out of there, because ...

Friday night at 7:30, I will join 15 of the contributors to I Just Want to Pee Alone at a book signing event off site. You do NOT need to be a BlogHer attendee to join us, but you DO need a ticket if you want a copy of the book and a drink. Here is all the information you need to find us. I know what you're thinking at this point: "Gee, Jen, that sounds fun and you're fine and all, but I wonder if my FAVORITE blogger is going." I'll bet she is. Check out the complete list:

(Now that I've looked at all of this, I think I'll be sleeping in on Saturday, so there isn't much chance of finding me that day, so we'd better hook up Friday!) If you're thinking about coming to this event, don't think too long, because space is limited and we've only got a few tickets left and the deadline to buy tickets is July 22.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore!

NYC I am here! Last night we finally arrived at our final destination: NYC!

As you know, the Hubs grew up here and I lived here for several years, but we've never brought Gomer and Adolpha here before. We decided to come and visit so they could celebrate their grandmother's birthday.

Yesterday we were stranded in the Chicago airport (so close to Moms Who Drink and Swear and yet so far!!) for about five hours. Seriously, I was thisclose to calling Nikki to come and rescue us. We got on our plane and settled in for take off and I promptly fell asleep. I woke up about an hour later when the captain made an announcement. "What? What did he say?" I mumbled sleepily. "Are we there?"

"Not even close," the Hubs replied, irritated with me. "We still haven't left. Some sort of mechanical problem. Did you enjoy your sleep?"

Hmm ... well, yes, I did, actually. "I dreamed about pizza," I said. Like good (former) New Yorkers, the Hubs and I have a real appreciation for New York style pizza. Believe it or not, Kansas pizza is not at all similar. We've been extolling the virtues of NY style pizza for years and we had promised our kids we would have pizza for dinner as soon as we arrived at our scheduled 5 P.M. arrival time.

I looked at my watch. It was already 4:30. Uh oh.

Long story short, they made us leave the plane because they said they weren't sure they could fix it and they were looking for a new one. (Thanks, United, that would be great, because I wasn't thrilled about flying in a plane that was "broken" an hour ago.) The Hubs and I got a little grumpy thinking about our delicious pizza and because our cell phone batteries were starting to die. (It's amazing how much juice Candy Crush can suck from your phone when you're stranded in an airport!) The Hubs wandered off to find an empty outlet and recharge our batteries - literally and figuratively.

Finally, the plane was fixed, but now there was a crazy weather thing going on and they didn't want us to fly through that. (Again, thank you for that. I am not a fan of turbulence. Or sheer winds.) We continued to wait.

My kids burned through all of their activities to do and resorted to playing catch with THIS little miracle toy. They scarfed their snacks I had packed for both going to New York and coming home, but only before they asked, "We can still have pizza when we get to New York even if we eat all of these snacks, right??" We met some nice Canadian ladies who said, "Your kids are well behaved, eh?" (The kindest compliment I could ever receive. My job as a mother is done.)

Finally, finally, the plane was fixed, the weather had passed and we were the only flight of the night getting out. Things were going our way!

They announced it was time to board and we should line up according to our "grouping." There were four or five groups and thanks to my dad and his mileage plus points we were in group one - the shortest line. We grabbed the kids and took our place at the end of the line. As Adolpha and I took up the rear, a drunk guy (our gate was conveniently located next to the bar and more than one of our fellow passengers spent the layover in there) joined the line behind me and looked me up and down. He took in my half pants (adorable capris, thank you very much!) and the Hubs' cargo shorts (new for this trip!) and our two kids and asked me, "Are you sure you're in the right line? Are you Group One? This line is for Global Services."

I turned around and recognized him as the douche who had been up at the desk earlier in the evening complaining very loudly that weather was not a reason to detain him. He had berated the customer service rep (whose job must suck, btw on a night like that) up one side and down the other about how he was extremely important and had to get out of Chicago right away and get back to New York, because did he mention yet that he's extremely important, and the world was going to end if he didn't get back tonight or something like that.

I have no idea what Global Services is. I can read though and my ticket status was on the list for Group One. I looked his very important drunk ass up and down with such a look of haughty disdain that only I can achieve after sitting in a airport for five hours trying to entertain two kids (and a fidgety husband).

"Of course I belong here. Where else would I belong?" I said, glaring at him.

He had the decency to take a step back and get out of my personal space.

The even drunker guy behind him said, "Well, you never can tell."

I turned around and eyed him up and down with a withering look too, "No. You guys sure can't."

We got on the plane and just about everyone had boarded when Adolpha had a horrible realization. She grabbed my arm and the look on her face was pure panic. If Adolpha knew the phrase, "Holy shit" she would have yelled it.

"What's the matter, Adolpha?" I asked.

She started wheezing and could barely form the words, "Blankie! Gone!"

When we were killing time back at the gate, she emptied her backpack of things to do and she took out her favorite blanket. You know. The one she can't sleep without, the one she can't be comforted without, the one that she's had since birth that will probably join her on her wedding night in some exotic locale. "It's not here!" Her wails practically echoed back from her empty bag.

"Son of a bitch!" I whispered. (Hopefully under my breath. Otherwise, now Adolpha knows what to say the next time Blankie is missing.)

I tore through her bag throwing stuff everywhere. She was right. I accused the Hubs of losing it. "I was asleep on the last plane. You packed them up. Did you leave it?"

"We never got it out," he said. "Don't yell at me."

"I left it by the windows!" Adolpha cried. "I wanted to show Blankie the airplanes."

Fuck!! (That one was in my head.)

Have you ever tried to squeeze past a group of weary travelers getting onto a plane with all of their carry on luggage so you could get off a plane?

Well, let me tell you folks. It is not easy. Not at all. It was a miracle I made it. I would like to apologize now to every single person who got my ass in their face, my elbow in their ribs, and their toes stepped on by me as I FLEW to the front of the plane shouting, "I'm sorry, we left a very important item in the gate area!" or "Excuse me, mother with an emergency coming through!"

"What's wrong?" the most adorable flight attendant asked me when I broke through to the front of the plane.

"We left a very important blanket out there in the boarding area. I need it."

"Of course you do, honey," he said. "Go. We will wait for you!"

Bless you, adorable flight attendant!

I ran up the hallway and burst through the door like a madwoman. I looked around wildly and there was Blankie. He was all bundled up in a heap next to the windows where he almost watched our plane take off and lose him forever.

I turned around and got back on line and I was the last person to board that plane. "You found it!" adorable flight attendant said.

"Yes! Thank you!"

That brown thing entwined around her body? Yeah, that's Blankie. It would have been a very long night if we realized he was missing a few minutes later!

We arrived in New York City without anymore drama and after a few calls, found our car and made it to the hotel.

"We're not going to have pizza now, are we?" asked Gomer, sadly. "The pizza place is closed."

"Gomer, have you ever heard the phrase 'the city that never sleeps'?"

"No."

"Well, now you have."

The Hubs left us to settle into the hotel while he went and fought the crowd (Truly. A midnight crowd at the pizzeria as busy as a noon crowd) and wait for half an hour for a pizza. God bless you, 24 hour pizza joints!

My kids have done a lot of cool things in their short lives, but I think eating hot New York style pizza at midnight is at the top of their list now.

Katie Hopkins

Have you heard of Katie Hopkins? Well, let me introduce you. Katie is a real charmer. She's a British "reality television contestant" (Wouldn't you love for that be your claim to fame?? It's almost worse than "blogger.") who will do and say anything to be famous. She's appeared on the British version of The Apprentice and I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here! as well as appearing in a few other British TV shows and she televised her latest wedding. 

A quick look at her Wikipedia page tells me that Katie has a problem with staying married and staying faithful. She's a bit of a homewrecker and a social climber when it comes to her men. She likes to trade up. 

This is all so interesting, because she's getting some notoriety these days for her controversial remarks about classism. She's come out and said that she refuses to let her kids play with children with "low class names" like Tyler or Chardonnay, because they'll be bad influences on her kids. 

Riiight. Because a kid with a fame whore mother who doesn't mind being photographed having sex in a field with her married co-worker (true story) sounds like a terrific influence on my kid! 

She went on a British morning show and vomited her ridiculous spiel all over the hosts and another guest who called her an "insufferable snob." Take a look.

Did you see my favorite part? She goes on about how she hates "location" names like Brooklyn and London and then the host says "Your daughter is named India" and she says, "But that's not related to a location."

Ummm ... yes it is, you dumb bitch. Last I checked India was a country, thus a location, thus your child's name is best known as a location name - the thing you say you hate. Get your shit straight, woman!

When I first watched this I thought, Well, I make fun of dumb baby names too, maybe I'm as bad as her.

But then I watched it again. The difference is I don't ostracize the kids because their parents named them a stupid name. I make fun of the parents for taking perfectly normal names like "Amy" and making them unique with ridiculous spellings like "Aighmey" so their snowflake will stand out in the crowd. I've never accused these parents of being bad parents or not taking an interest in their kids like Katie does. I've never said that because these kids have names with bizarre spellings they must not do their homework or show up late to school. I've never said these are "low class" names that are good indicators that their family is probably on welfare like Katie does. And I've certainly never told my children they can't be friends with someone named Cristah or Maysen, because their parents couldn't spel. Or Bear or Apple, because their parents didn't buy a baby name book.

No, I'm nothing like Katie. She is a total bitch who is using this whole name thing as a way to classify people and to determine if they're good enough for her family to socialize with. She swears she's never heard anyone holler an "upper class" name at a playground. Well, maybe she's been hanging out at the wrong playgrounds. Just this week I've heard, "Madeline, stop throwing mulch!" and "Henry, pull up your pants! We do not potty on trees!"

The other thing that irritates me about this twit is that she's so fucking ignorant that she can't see that the names she's given her kids: India, Poppy, and Maximillian are not upper crust names either. I think we've established that India is a location. Poppy is so easy for kids to call "Poopy" so I would have nixed that name for that reason, although it is adorable and very British, but I think Rose or Violet might have been better flower names if you're looking for classy. And Maximillian. Poor, Maximillian. All I can think of is he sounds like a gladiator or a super hero's arch nemesis.

At least when I poke fun of the parents of the Brandyns of the world, I can admit that I didn't do any better naming my kids. My kids have highly unpopular names, but with traditional spellings, because that's the part that drives me batty.

This woman is more than just a snob. She's the worst kind of person. The more I read about her, the more I see it. She hates poor people, fat people, tattooed people, and who knows who else?!

What do you think? Do you judge kids by their names (or just their parents)?

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