Guess what

A hint:

OKAY, that was probably a bad hint. A little bit weird too.

More hints after the click.....

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It is all about stethoscopes

I need a (mental) doctor. Possibly an addict group.

"Hi, I'm Nadine, I'm addicted to House." In the last five days or so, I have watched about ten episodes of House.

"Are you in love with him?" FreezeM asked, after catching me watching YouTube videos about Hugh Laurie.
"No, just fascinated"

Actually, if I would be in love, I would be in love with Doctor House, not with the actor (although he is incredibly talented, funny and speaks with his cute British accent). I just love this TV character. His sense of humor is to die for and he's the perfect unreachable good bad guy in a way that tickles me pink. AND he watches soap operas (OK, just General Hospital, but that's a good start). Never thought I would dig beards though.

When it comes to TV shows, we (in little Dutchland) are always one or two (or three ... or four ... ) seasons behind the US. Except for Lost, Prison Break and Heroes. Which are the only shows we need to survive anyway. Like recently I asked: have you seen that new show, ehm what was it, yeah, Beverly Hills 90201?? That Luke Perry is hot! OK, kidding about 90201, but you get the point. We are in the 1800's when it comes to TV shows.

But now there's House. And Dutch TV is still airing season 1. ONE.

I didn't want to wait until TV caught up with reality (is that even possible?), so I got season 1 to 2. Which I am watching now like a total addict. I have pretty much been neglecting the new Harry Potter which my husband so kindly bought me in the weekend. At this moment I am all about stethoscopes, and less about magic wands.

I have my cake and eat it too

Are you emancipated?

The word gives me chills. Yes I like to have the same rights, respect and opportunities as a man. I think it is insane that in The Netherlands men have higher salaries for the same job (it is not a rule, it is unspoken, but often very true). I also think it is crazy that a lot of men refuse to help keeping the house clean, even though their wifes have a job too.

Having said that, the overly emancipated women who claim to be the same as men (but with breasts, less penis and less hair) and refuse to accept the difference between men and women give me an instant rash. Clearly there are more differences between men and women than the need to buy boxers or bras. The way we communicate and think for example. The way a woman has a natural bond with her baby the minute it's born. The way a woman likes to care of people and the way a men handles his tools. To sum it up: You will not catch me burning my bra! Men and women are different. And most breasts need bras. (Nothing worse than seeing a braless woman walking by, seeing it all dangle.)

I like being treated as a woman. I like it when FreezeM holds the car door open for me and waits until I'm settled in. I like it when he gets his tools and does manly things in the house. I like it when he protects me. I like it when he makes me feel like a woman. But I also like it very much when he takes care of Tim. And the house. And in the mean time teaching Tim that it is perfectly normal for a man to help keeping the house clean and tidy. Without me even asking. Having and eating that cake:

The perfect husband, with the perfect son, cleaning windows.

Yep, that's the way to do it.

Don't mind me! I'm just capturing this moment!

Hey, where did they go?

Imagine you are almost 18 months old

Where would you hide the remote control?

People: it is really important you answer this question in the comments.

While your pondering about that question, I'll just go on and brag about the Rocking Girl Blogger award the lovely Lisa so kindly gave to me a little over a week ago! It's my first award! And to celebrate I'm thinking about filling the hot tub with champagne and soak until my skin looks like that of a 89 year old. Thanks Lisa! I have two bloggers I'd like to forward the award too. Two young mothers who's blogs should be on your blog list.

First a new discovery, the gorgeous Ali Martell. She is cute, funny, a great mom, very entertaining and I am insanely jealous of her rack and ability to look MILF'ish in EVERY picture. Anyways, she totally rocks, so go say hi and add her to your favorites!

And an old discovery, the lovely Jen! I read her blog for a long time, lost track of her for a little while, but recently found her again. I'm very thrilled to have her back on my blogroll. She is cheerful, funny and writes awesome posts about her baby Maya. Go say hi to this rocking Florida mom!

OK, did you figure out where my remote control is? There are just little over six hours left before my favorite show starts. Hurry up! I will look in any place you mention. But if you say garbage can, and it's not there? Run.

I almost got Mrs. Quasimodo killed

The Dutch are pretty much a bunch of rude people. I know I am Dutch. But the rudeness is one of the reasons we would like to leave this country. Like this morning, I'm walking with Tim in his stroller on my way to the supermarket. We get close to a zebra crossing. Here, a zebra crossing means, pedestrians can walk: cars have to wait. But usually drivers interprertate this rule as optionally. Nearing the crossing, I see this old lady waiting for a car to stop. Really old. With a cane. Trembling. Standing like Quasimodo. She's waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And finally, when I am almost there, a car stops, let her walk. And as soon as she lifted her heels of the crossing, the car hurries on.

Now, I am not about to wait until I am gray, like old lady. So I see a car coming, I see he sees me, I show him I want to cross. And he hunks and starts yelling a bunch of words starting with 'F'. Which made the old lady fall back in to the wall across the street. 'Idiot, it's a zebra crossing' I say loud (nice mommy moment there), when I made my way across the street. I made sure the old lady wasn't having an heart attack. And when she seemed fine I continued my way to the supermarket.

Than a city service sweeping car passed me. Beeping his horn. OK, a tad flattered, but seriously: what is wrong with those people? But I thought ' Hey if I give these guys my a real nice MILF'ish smile, they will come and clean my house. But before I even thought 'cheese', they speed off faster than I thought these little cleaning wagons could go.

I look down, pout pout, disappointed I have to clean the house myself, and see this huge U.S.O.C. (unidentified stain on clothes) on my sweater. Babies are cute. But they leave a lot of U.S.O.C.'s. Pout pout.

The supermarket was VERY quiet. Hooray Hooray! But yet the only two customers and the personnel got in my way constantly. Pout pout.

Than Tim ate his shoe. Well, he nibbled on it. Here I am, buying only organic food for him. And he is eating his shoes. He's just making sure he's getting the chemicals he is missing out on.

But we made it home safely. Didn't forget any groceries. Tim is napping. And we have a sunny afternoon ahead of us. I think we'll have a pretty awesome day in the garden. Hooray for working part-time and spending two weekdays alone with my little guy. I started out pouting, but really, I am grateful for living the life we live.

And Mrs. Quasimodo? Probably waiting at another zebra crossing.

Random pondering

Question #1. Is it just me or does every wardrobe closet ends up being to small even though you started out with enough space? Just wondering. I have to stash away my winter and spring clothes, just so I can stack my summer clothes in there. And really I do not own that much clothes. The closet shrinks, I am convinced.

Question #2. Why do people buy shoes with holes and than stick stuff in the shoe, filling up the holes? Crocs people. I am not a fan. Decorating them? I get it when you're 12 or when you're camping or at a swimming pool or beach or whatever. But I see grown up women, in the tram, probably on their way to work with yellow plastic butterflies and green plastic angels in pink plastic Crocs. For me, they make the eighties headband and nineties spandex pants look like haute couture.

Question #3. What kind of people come to my site using searches like:
"Photos of nipples of different nationalities"
"voodoo dolls and pms"
"never heard of canada"

Question #4. How cute is my sweet corn eating kid?

Question #5 When will it stop raining? Above picture was taken yesterday in the 5 minutes it didn't rain. Other than that? Rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain.

Enough pondering. Don't want you to get the idea I have nothing important to ponder about. Plastic shoes, voodoo dolls and nipples. That's my life. Oh and rain.

Unable to update and receive comments!

For the last couple of days I've not been able to update my website with Movable Type or receive comments due to my evil hosting provider. They have, as I feared, effed up the move to a new server. Since than, they have not tried or been able to help me, nor have they replied properly to my e-mails. Over the years I have experience some issues with them. Needless to say, I am leaving them to go to DreamHost, where FreezeM hosts his site. In the mean time, please e-mail (nadineAThelloworlditsme.com) me if you want to contact me. And whatever you do, do not host your website with Flexwebhosting. They suck. Big time. Im sorry for the inconveniance and I hope to see you all soon at my new hosting provider.

Update: FreezeM moved everything to the Dreamhost server and made a redirect from the original server. The commenting page still looks funny and only the default skin works. He also upgraded to Movable Type 4. My site is now certified Green :) I'm on his subdomain, but at least he has saved me from the Flexwebhosting server.

Update #2: You can comment again! Hooray! Still working out some technical issues. Can't seem to get the pop-up comment window working. FreezeM has been busy fixing this blog the entire day now. I'm very very grateful honey! Thanks! Hopefully, tomorrow a 'real' post.

Mommy, daddy, ball, breast, woof, toot toot

Above the vocabulary of our 1.5 year old breast pinching baby. What? He thinks breasts and round butts are hidden balls. He will squeeze them and will scream BALL! with a big smile on his face. He did it too my mother in law, while she was changing his diaper. And the same with me now a couple of times. I hope he realizes it's cute at 18 months, but at 18 years... I am not sure his big blue eyes will be enough to safe him.

This morning I decided to explain that breasts are not balls.

Tim (squeeze): BALL!
Me: No honey, that's a breast.
TIM: BALL!
Me: No, breast.
TIM: BALL!
Me: BREAST!
TIM: BALL!
Me: BREAST!
TIM: BEAST!
Me: Almost honey, almost.

It's really my fault. We have been doing hide and seek with the ball: hiding the ball under our clothes. I hide the ball under my shirt, Tim finds it, Tim hides the ball under his shirt, I find it.

Just hope he doesn't start squeezing breasts at the supermarket.

Clearly I am saving the world

If you come here tomorrow, and my weblog is no where to be found?

I have quit blogging to stop waisting precious energy to help safe the world from global warming. Because that's what any blogger in his or her right mind does, when watched the Life Earth concerts last Saturday.

OR

I have been erased by the European Union. Clearing all traces of my existence. Because I clearly I am a spy trying to trade government information to the US for a greencard.

OR

I was never here, and it's your delusional mind making you think that you were ever reading about a blogger called Nadine.

OR

My hosting provider has moved my domain to another server like they promised a few days ago and they effed up royaly. Pray that the move goes well. And hopefully, see you on the other side!

Censuring lullabies since 2007

Do you know the lullabies by heart? Or did you have to Google the lyrics before you could sing them to your baby?

I'll admit, I forgot the lyrics of 99 percent of the lullabies and children's songs. So singing for Tim has been a challenge, until I bought this CD with a small lyrics book of almost 60 songs!

But that's not where I want to go with this post. Ninety percent of the songs on the CD are really awesome and great fun for both parents and kid. However, there are some really old songs on there with medieval and quit shocking lyrics. I don't actually remember them from my childhood. I think they made it on the CD because they used to be popular a long time ago.

Example one: Creating little players
Joepie, Joepie has arrived
took my little girlfriend away
but I won't cry for it
I'll get another anyway
tralalalalalala
tralalalalalala
Please tell me, I am not the only one who thinks this song is sending out a wrong message.

Example two with the title: Morianne black as coal
Doesn't the title say enough? Besides the song title, it's not actually a racist song. The song was written somewhere in the eighteen hundreds where I am sure slavery and racism was normal in some countries. However, I don't think this song really has to be on a otherwise so cheerful and fun CD? It's wrong in too many ways.

Example three: Dead frogs
There were seven little frogs,
in a farmers pond,
the pond was frozen
the frogs almost dead
they didn't quack, they didn't croak
from hunger and despair,
there were seven little frogs,
in a farmers pond
This is just cruel! I don't like frogs at all, but this is just weird.

I am not the only one translating Dutch lullabies. This website has a lot of translated lullabies. But they made an error on one of the songs, leading to a very peculiar sentence:

Farmer, tell me, how is my cock?
Farmer, tell me, how are my chicken?
Farmer, tell me, how is my cock?
Don't you think they have nice feathers
isn't their color beautiful?
Maybe they should have used 'rooster' to make it sound less dirty.

Perhaps we should stick to Sesamestreet cd's.

Random Sunday: migraine, bad mommy, help!

I've been down with a migraine Friday and Saturday. It has been a while since I last had a migraine. It's my weak spot. When I'm very tired, too stressed, too busy, or haven't had appropriate meals; I'm bound to get a migraine. It's always a lesson to take good care of myself. Thank God for my awesome mother in law for coming over to take care of Tim.

The good thing about migraines, is that they disappear faster than they come. Last night, a 8 PM it was magically gone. So today I actually had a great day! I enjoyed playing with Tim. When the rain was gone, we took him to the playground. It's a play ground especially for toddlers. Mini slide and other mini stuff. But Tim did manage to fell on his head after sliding off one of the playground attributes. We were sitting like a feet out of reach to catch him (that will teach me) and I saw him fell backwards, on the back of his head. It was not really THAT high (remember: everything was really mini). The image is stuck in my mind. And constantly replaying in slow motion. Bad mommy. Bad bad mommy.

I need your help! We're celebrating my mom's birthday this Saturday. I have absolutely NO idea what to get her. She doesn't have a wish list. So I need YOUR advice! What would you give your lovely mother for her ALMOST sixty (59) birthday? Did you give your mother something she absolutely loved? Tell me! I need ideas.

Monday is lurking around the corner. I can see it. I'm off to close my eyes and pretend this weekend will last forever.