. . .snips and snails and puppy dog tails . . .

Okay, I've known from the beginning that boys are different from girls. I tried to be a gender-neutral parent, and when my boys were toddlers they used their dolls for weapons and their play cooking tools for 'rhythmic instruments' (i.e., noisemakers). I cope by taking neighbors' girls to movies and malls, and I let husband 2.0 teach them to play "Dodgeball In The Dark" and other games of mass destruction. But sometimes a girl just has to draw the line - or so I thought.

My boys have always been animal lovers. They've had hamsters, and a lizard, and various other small caged pets at various times. I said okay when the boys' godfathers wanted to give them tropical fish (and now that the weird-looking algae-eater keeps the tank walls clean, I actually enjoy them). And of course I was more than happy to get the dog (who, by the way, is a total girly girl, and refuses to do 'Sit' or 'Lie Down' unless she's on a soft surface). But for years Ben has begged for pet rats - and I refused to discuss the matter.

It's not just the basic idea of a rat. I lived in New York City for 5 years, and I saw subway rats the size of german shepherds, and I even had rats in my apartment. One night I woke up to an odd sound coming from the box of Rice Krispies on my make-shift shelf (created out of salvaged milk crates, painted green & nailed to the wall of my studio apartment). I turned on the light and noticed that the box was moving, with a large, brown tail coming out of the top and extending down the side. I did what any independent, Cosmo-girl Living In The City would do - shrieked, grabbed an industrial strength garbage bag and thick rubber gloves, and sent the cereal box & its inhabitant down the incinerator shaft. But it was as close as I ever needed to come to any of that species.

Ben pleaded, he showed me internet articles about how smart and trainable rats are, but it didn't matter how many times I agreed that the character in Ratatouille was cute, I wasn't sold. Until I needed a good 'hurdle helper' (a.k.a. bribe) to get him to keep his room clean, and I'd also run out of good chanukah present ideas for a kid who was too old for Bionicles and too young to appreciate clothing as a gift.

So Ben is now the proud owner two very cute, clean, white rats with subtle markings of caramel (which he named Peanut) and brown (Mocha). I actually enjoy feeding them, watching them take a nut into their tiny paws that look surprisingly human, seeing how daintily they nibble, how sweetly they nestle and groom each other. But I still don't like to hold them - it's too hard to ignore the tails, which still are awfully reminiscent of the Rice Krispies incident.

These days, I go to Petsmart for an assortment of rat food, dog toys, and aquarium filters, and I feel like the owner of a menagerie - but then again, that's what having a house full of boys feels like anyhow. (And at least the boys will go shopping with me when it's to the pet store - not exactly what I had in mind, but it's something!)

The $150,000 wardrobe makeover

Some women fantasize about a hot night with Patrick Dempsey, some women's fantasies involve pool boys or german shepherds, but give me a $150,000 shopping spree any day! In case you're from another planet, that was the amount spent by the GOP on Sarah Palin's wardrobe makeover. (In case that sounds extravagant, remember, it did include accessories as well as a couple of outfits for her family members.) (Which still sounds extravagant to someone like me, whose idea of a splurge is buying something at Old Navy that wasn't on sale . . . ) People on both sides of the political spectrum can argue about 'shopping-gate' til they're blue (or red, depending on party affiliation) - everyone does it, it's a travesty, she needed clothes for different climates, it sends a bad message in a recession, they're donating all the clothes to charity, it's hypocritical to claim to be a WalMart hockey mom when you're wearing Valentino and Manolo Blahniks - but for me the real issue is envy. I would love someone to take me to any store and spend $150,000 on me (hell, I'd be happy with $150!)

The scale of this spree does raise the idea of diminishing returns. It's like wine - I can taste the difference between a bottle of two buck chuck and a $10 bottle, but once you start going from $10 to $100 a bottle, I can't really tell much difference. Likewise, my similarly uneducated fashion palate can tell the difference between a $10 Jaclyn-Smith-For-KMart dress and a $100 dress from Nordstrom, but I don't see a lot of difference between the Nordstrom outfit and the designer one, except that the designer outfits are often weirder-looking. Moms like me are expert bargain hunters out of necessity; the GOP could have hired me or my friends to do the wardrobe makeover for considerably less money and still have Palin looking camera ready. (I just spent $150 at Target and got myself a nice looking sweater set, a purse, 4 pairs of pants for my younger son, 2 dress shirts for my older son, a sweatshirt for my husband, and some groceries!)

I have plenty of other reasons to be incensed about Palin beyond the superficial clothing issue, but at least her shopping spree has given me a great new fantasy. Now, when my husband and I are trying to squeeze in a quickie before the kids get up in the morning and I have 2 minutes to get myself in the mood or lose the opportunity, I'll just think about a GOP strategist taking me to Neiman Marcus, and I'm set!