Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Lost Crown, a Vicious Bite, & Hollywood

The title of this blog pretty much desribes my day.

It all started around 6:15 a.m., when I woke up to get ready to pass off my crown.  Yes, my crown.  My one-year reign as winner of the 103.7 FM 2010 "Babe Bracket" was coming to an end.  And I had the good fortune of handing-over the title to another local TV news anchor, whom I have come to adore.

My friends at the radio station told me to be there early.  I wasn't exactly giving her my crown.  That's mine to keep.  She was supposed to get a crown of her own, and it was my job to place it atop her pretty head and bless her with a little fairy dust or something like that.

So I pull up, almost late as I always am, and I get the text:  "The crowns aren't here yet.  UPS is delivering them at 8am, so we don't need you yet."  I waited a bit, then went on their radio show with the new winner, no crown in sight.  We waited.  And burned up air-time.  And waited.  Then talked about how we are both so proud that we are "older" women and beat out the young beauties.  Then we waited some more.  Still, no crown.  The crown was a no-show.  So we talked some more.  About how I was retiring from the contest because I'm staring 40 in the face this year, and how frankly, I just don't wanna win every contest every single year (sarcasm).  Then, the phone rang.  The crowns were....................   still not here.  So I talked about the new winner and told her how I've always admired her beauty and sweet presence.  And she talked about how she loved my smile.  Then another call.  The crowns!  Not gonna make it... UPS apparently delivered them to Missouri? 

Oh well.  I congratulated the new "babe."  Gave my hugs.  Snapped a few pics.  Then, raced home to relieve the adorable sitter who agreed to come so early to allow me my last moments as a "babe." 

I walked in, and the first thing I smelled was the bombed pull-up awaiting me.  Kids ran to hug me.  Such angels!  Dealt with pull-up issue.  Then the two sweet ones promptly went back to fighting.  "Stop," I screamed.  "Take turns!" "If you keep fighting, you're gonna lose your toys!"  To no avail.  Calm did finally come for a couple of minutes, and I took the chance to run to the bathroom.  I was about to burst.  I'd had to pee for nearly an hour.  It was precisely then,  my sweet-angelic-precious-darling-creampuff of a 2-year old apparently turned into a dog with a vicious bite fiercer than I've ever seen.  4-year old screams.  And, pee in mid-stream, I go running.   "She bit me on my buuuuuutttttttttttttttt.   Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!  Owwwwwwwwwwww!!!!" 

Indeed she had bitten him.  It was ugly.  He quickly slapped her as I was running to the rescue and straight into the chaos.  At which point, she started screaming. 

Where was my freaking crown now, I'm thinking??????? 

OK.  Deep breath.  Separate the philistines.  Get everybody calm.  Take each one in my arms.  Get baby girl to apologize.  Check bite wound.  Several minutes pass.  Kids finally hug.


Fast-forward to the afternoon.  At the TV station, everyone is abuzz.  I walk into the studio and the lights are on, and all the newsies have their cameras ready. 

What is going on?

"Judge Reinhold is on his way to the studios!  You know, Detective Billy Rosewood from Beverly Hills Cop!"

OHMYGOSH!!!!  Hollywood mania!  The newsroom was starstruck.

Turns out, Judge was so pleasant and down-to-earth, and his wife, Amy, was just a peach.  We didn't realize it, but Amy and I went to high school together.  We all had our picture made, and we visited for a bit.  Wonderful people.

After they left, I logged on to a popular social media website and saw that the new 2011 "babe" never got her crown, so her TV station general manager went out and bought one for her.  As she wrote, "what's the title without the crown?"

Later, I peeked at the picture of me and Judge.  All the while thinking, my "babe" friend thought I had a pretty smile?  Look at those yellow teeth!  And there are wrinkles around my chin!  Eeek!   

That was about the time I got a text from home saying sweet-boy's bite mark still looked pretty bad.

And I realized at that moment, it wasn't the lost crown that mattered or handing over the title of "babe" or the wrinkles I see as I approach 40 or the Hollywood star I had the pleasure of meeting.  It was the two savage toddlers who --in the middle of my day-- brought me back to reality.  Just as they always do.

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