I shop at the grocery store, so I have lots of time to contemplate what my life would be like if I were a celebrity mom. I’ve decided I’m against it, and I will tell you why.

1. I would not like to claim the world record for "Celebrity Mom Hiding a Baby Bump for the Longest Time Ever Without Producing a Baby." It seems that every issue of OK! or US Weekly shows a picture of some celebrity on the cover either “hiding” or “showing off” her baby bump. If she’s holding something in front of her abdomen, she’s “hiding.” If she’s walking like a normal person, she’s “showing off.”

It's taken me over ten months, but I've finally admitted to myself that my daughter has an attitude problem. I'm this close to calling it a Temper. A disposition so persnickety and demanding can hardly amount to anything else, yet I've been glossing over the obvious since her birth.

"She just knows what she wants," I'd say to my husband, whisking Molly away from his frustrated attempts to stuff a bottle into her mouth.

Whenever I find myself wondering what in the world I'm going to write for Parenting.com this week, all I need to do is take a trip to a playground and VOILA: instant blog fodder. Playground parents NEVER disappoint!

We were at the fancy schmancy outdoor shopping mall today, killing time in the play area before our appointment to yank my two-year-old's toenails out, I mean, get his hair cut. Note to Jackson: getting your hair cut DOES NOT HURT. I'd appreciate it if you kept the public wailing to below CPS detection levels. And look at me, digressing ALREADY.

I suppose I could have taken him to the children's barber in the fancy outdoor shopping mall but $25 plus tip to cut a two-year-old's hair? I think not. The play area, however, is free and we availed ourselves of the various toys and slides while we waited. It was 80 degrees out and I worked on my tan (there are only so many opportunities for browning oneself in the Pacific Northwest) while Jack summoned all his toddler courage to climb to the top of the slide all by himself. Molly jabbered to herself in the stroller and I had one of those, "This mom gig ain't all that bad!" moments. And I might have yawned, because, well, let's just say I wasn't having one of those moments at 5:30 this morning when Molly decided she was awake for the day.

It’s the week before Mother’s Day, which means the marketing machines are grinding away at full speed. Every single shopping-related website I’ve visited lately has jumped on the Mother’s Day bandwagon, offering suggestions for how people should use their products to express their love to Mom.

Some of the ideas are good ones, of course. Comfy pajamas, gift cards to the bookstore or for take-out, personalized jewelry -- moms love this stuff.

But some of the ideas I’ve seen offered up?

BAD.

There's a popular old TV skit that goes "I'm crushing your head, I'm crushing your head.''

The guy, known as Head Crusher, puts two fingers up to his eyes and envisions the object's head between fingers and CRUSH.

Is it wrong to admit I thought of the skit often this week?

It was Spring Break. Spring Break is not for the weak and poorly planned. In other words, not for me.