It's Good To Be The Queen

If I'm bringing sexy back.....

2007-08-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

where the hell did it go in the first place?

My Harry Potter Thoughts

2007-07-19T08:59:00.000-07:00

Harry Potter fever is at an all time high at our house!
Last week we had to catch the latest movie on opening day. Thank goodness they agreed that they wouldn't turn into blast ended screwts if they weren't there at 12:01am to see the very first showing. They conceded that they could indeed wait until 9 am without any unfortunate transformations. The movie was great (leave the littlest wizards at home though) and now I am quickly re-reading The Half Blood Prince so I can be caught up and ready to dive into the last chapter of the Harry Potter saga. We have pre-ordered our copy, will stake our place in line early to get our magical number and return that night for the festivities. Then my sons and I will fight over who gets to read the book first. When will I learn to order more than one copy?
I have to admit I am going to be a bit sad when the series ends. It has held such a dear place in my heart and in the lives of my boys. I bought the first book when Tim was in 1st grade and home from school with a cold. We blazed through it and were hooked. We read it again during the wait for the second book, this time including Matthew. Around this time concerns were raised around the country that the book promoted witchcraft. Banning and burnings ensued. We couldn't understand it. The biggest lesson of The Sorcerer's Stone was that a mother's love is so deep that she would give her life for her child and so strong that it conquers even the darkest magic. Wow, better not let the kiddos learn that! I always figured that if your kid turned to the dark side simply by reading a book that there were deeper problems there.
Anyway, my favorite HP boy story was when we decided to throw a party to mark Mr. Potter's birthday (July 31). The invites asked the kids to bring a book to donate and stated that the party was B.Y.O.B. Bring Your Own Broom. I had improvised my own version of backyard Quiddich. We had a basketball hoop at either end of the backyard, a small ball for the Chasers to score with, the littlest guys were the Bludgers and had huge beach balls to knock the Keepers over with and I was the ref with the golden snitch in my pocket that I would throw in the air every once in awhile. As I explained the rules to them, one sweet boy looked at me and with all honesty breathed, "Mrs. Ford, can you really make us fly?" Every time I see that now strapping young 14 year old boy/man I think back to that hot summer day where innocence ruled.
Yikes! I just looked at my official Scholastic Books countdown and I have 1 day, 13 hours, 9 minutes and 4 seconds until the book is released! I better get my costume together!
Treacle tarts and pumpkin juice to you all!

Summer To Do List

2007-05-15T05:11:00.000-07:00

I just saw my 14 year old's Things To Do This Summer list on his desk. Let me share.
#1 - Acting
#2 - Learn to play guitar
#3 - Jackass

Be afraid mom, be very afraid.

Virginia Tech

2007-04-20T06:26:00.000-07:00

Why are we surprised when a tragedy like the one at Virginia Tech occurs? Unless we address the root problems of mental illness, our gun culture, the tolerance of hate speak and our sensationalized media these catastrophes will happen again and again.
Mental illness is still incredibly stigmatized and seen as a weakness of character instead of the medical condition it is. Treatment may be difficult to obtain due to shame, expensive therapy and medications as well as possibility and fear of being dropped by health insurance providers.
The National Rifle Association, founded in 1871, states its goal is to "promote and encourage rifle shooting on a scientific basis," The NRA may hide behind its facade of hunter education and its shooting sports youth programs; but they are partly responsible for the ‘science’ of 2007 in the US – an increase in the of number of guns, the glorified use of guns in entertainment and media, and the dubious honor of having one of the highest gun death rate in the world.
It is also our constitutional right to engage in free speech but when did we as a society start to tolerate the rantings of bigots, chauvinists and hate mongers? In a country where Imus can skip off with millions in his pocket and others seek rehab for their slurs, one wonders if personal responsibility exists anymore. Those who see themselves as weak and powerless engage in hate speak and they may, as we have seen, choose violence as a way to feel powerful.
Our media is increasingly blurring the line between news and entertainment. Our 24/7 coverage brings out the worst in reporters who broadcast speculation and trot out ‘experts’ no matter how removed from the subject they are. For the life of me I can’t figure out why this catastrophe was the lead story on Access Hollywood. The proliferation of tragedy as entertainment entices killers and copy cats with the chance to be famous and remembered.
MSNBC reports that colleges and universities are “beefing up threat assessment training, for faculty and staff as well as students.” If we don’t change our attitudes regarding mental illness, guns, hate speak and our media it will be necessary to train anyone who frequents the post office, Mc Donald’s, Luby’s, school campus or anywhere else in threat assessment.
I pray for peace for all victims of this tragedy.

Mosh Mom

2007-04-16T12:27:00.001-07:00

I have never been much of a concert devotee. I remember in high school a guy asked me if I wanted to go to Kansas. I had no idea what was enticing about a road trip north of the Okie border. Maybe 6.2 beer instead of 3.2? I finally figured it out. “Oh Kansas! As in Carry on my Wayward Son. Got it!” I never went; my parents put the brakes on that one. I nixed the idea of going to a KISS concert after mom said that she would have to go with me. Oh, the humiliation! No way. Looking back I should have taken her up on it. Knowing my mom she would have made herself up like Paul Stanley.
Perhaps it was the memory of that missed opportunity that led me to entertain my 14 year old son’s request to attend Edgefest. This all day, outdoor concert is the equivalent of Woodstock for the alternative rock fan.
It did sound like a must see to me ten years ago when Sarah McLaughlin and the Toadies played. Now that I’m in my forties going to Edgefest sounds more like a ring of hell instead on heaven on earth. But hey – it is defiantly one for the List.
At this point I should give you a bit of background on my kid. At the age of ten he presented me with a contract outlining the conditions for the purchase of a game cube gaming system. He would only play games I approved of, he would shut it off when I requested and he would buy it with his own money. Impressed with his negotiating skill, he must have been hanging around with attorney offspring; I agreed, thinking he could never come up with the cash. We both signed our legal document and I filed it away. Damned if that kid didn’t rake some leaves, take care of a vacationing neighbor’s cat and got a used system at a deep discount. Not being the type to go back on my word the system sits dormant during the school week and still gets major usage on the weekends.
So I wasn’t surprised when he approached me with the proposition of attending his first concert with his cousin and me.
“Edgefest huh? Hmm. Here are my conditions. #1 you buy my ticket. #2 we will follow the rules set by me and the concert venue. #3 I will keep you both hydrated and sunscreened. #4 I will waive my chaperone fee.”
That last rule came about during the development of another one of my crazy ideas. Last year a neighborhood kid called me and said, “Hey Mrs. F, will you take me to see The Polyphonic Spree? My Mom doesn’t want to go.” What a business that would be – “Don’t want to destroy your hearing while chaperoning your kid? Call me- Mosh Pit Mom. The higher the decibel level, the higher my fee. Dial 1-800 TAKE HIM today. Operators are standing by.” I’ve got to get on that idea. Ooooh, I hope someone wants to take me to the Police reunion tour.
Finally the big day arrives. There is the possibility of being out in the blazing sun from 9:30am when the gates open until 10:30 pm when this thing is scheduled to end. Who couldn’t resist thirteen hours of head-banging fun? Uh, me. After explaining to my son and nephew that rock concerts, unlike the theater, do not start promptly we agree on a reasonable time to leave and off we go.
After we listen to the first band and while the next sets up we wander down to the arena floor and check out the stuff for sale. There’s cheap jewelry, hats and, my personal favorite, the Hawaiian lei made out of silk marijuana leaves. Too funny. Full disclosure here: I have never inhaled. Seriously. Why? Because I know myself and I would LIKE IT. Anyway I am roasting in the sun because I’m wearing long jeans and see a vender selling skirts and the like that must have fallen off some truck somewhere. I ask her for the biggest size she’s got and $20 dollars later I have a slip of denim in hand. Score! My nephew is mortified to learn that his Aunt Linda can pull a skirt on over her jeans and then shuck off the jeans – IN PUBLIC! Oh please, what did I care? In my estimation being able to wardrobe shift in the company of strangers is a life skill.
The boys then go off to check out the scene promising to stay together, keep the cell phones at the ready and check in every half hour. Off they go and now…I’m bored.
I knew going in that this was a ‘no in/no out’ concert. Once you have that ticket scanned you are in for the duration. I walk to the front gate and find a nice ticket taker and try to explain my situation to her. “Look. I’m 42 years old, here with my nephew and kid and I am bored out of my skull. Can I please, please, please go back to my car, get my book and come back in?” She has mercy on me and I make the half mile hike back to the car. I dump my jeans, sweatshirt and then trudge back. I thank the ticket taker profusely and gift her with my extra pair of earplugs.
Back in my seat I am quite the sight. Surrounded by tattooed teens, with my day glo orange ear plugs in I read my Pulitzer Prize winning novel (Middlesex by XXX. Check it out.) and look up and scream ‘YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! YOU GUYS ROCK!!!!!!!!” at the appropriate times.
At one point the front man for whoever yells, “Let me fuckin’ hear you out there! This is a fuckin’ rock concert. Not church!” He’s right, I was at Mass pre-concert.
In between book chapters I watch people. I see a girl in the mosh pit get tossed over the crowd like a rag doll. As fun as it looks my inner Mom comes out when I involuntarily yell, “Quit that! You’ll get a head injury!” Again it rears its responsible head as I insist that the girls sitting in front of me partake in sunscreen. “You’ll thank me when you’re 40,” I quip.
Since the singers look like little ants from our fabulous seats I watch the two big jumbotrons. The image is a second or two behind the live action making the singers look like the dubbed Japanese actors in the Godzilla movies. There are video screens that flank the jumbos with revolving advertisements. I think the onestating “Randy’s Steakhouse – Dine in Historic Elegance” is wasted on this crowd.
By late afternoon it is official. I am a human ATM. Every time the boys check in there is a plea for money for $5 cokes, $7 corndogs and $25 for a t-shirt. How did I go from cool mom to cash cow? I put my boot clad foot down. “Food first, shirts second. No, wait, no shirts. The only reason to get one is to wear it the next day at school and look incredibly cool. You guys wear uniforms everyday. With the two shirts you already have you can impress away on the weekends.” Off they go again.
I continue to people watch. A trio in front of me has choreographed their head banging. Two bounces forward, three complete turns to the left, one nod backwards, repeat. As I watch I make a mental note to schedule my chiropractor appointment.
A girl goes by with the most impressive tattoo of the night. A huge quote sprawling across her upper back. In Goth letters it states, “Don’t judge me by my failures. Judge me by my dreams.” Interesting, but I think that when she is 80 and the script has morphed to mush she may think that her now fulfilled dream of the tattoo may, in retrospect, prove to be judged a failure. At least it is on her back so she can’t see it all the time.
Finally the headliners take the stage. The crowd has thinned out considerably, probably due to heatstroke or drunkenness I surmise, so the boys and I move forward and are now just behind the security fence that separates the good tickets from the bad. We dance, we sing, it is bliss. Finally the lights come up and the day’s extravaganza is at an end.
As we head to the exit I hope I didn’t cramp the boy’s style too much. I’m proud of them for not balking at my mandate that I go with them. As we trudge up the stairs to the exit I see a man my age wearing a KISS t-shirt with, guess who, Paul Stanley on it. I think of mom and smile.
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Could someone please explain to me...

2007-03-28T06:45:00.000-07:00

...why my bottle of Penta Ultra-purified Premium Drinking H2O says "Arsenic Free" on the label?

SEGWAY

2007-03-26T10:46:00.001-07:00

Back in December of 2001 while on the treadmill at the YMCA I glanced up to see the TV tuned to Good Morning America. All week long Diane Sawyer and friends had been hyping inventor Dean Kamen’s newest creation. Heralded as the invention that would change the world as we know it, I was breathless with anticipation. Yes, breathless – I was at mile four by then.

A drape was dramatically swept away revealing the Segway to the world. It looked like… like what? Like a pogo stick with wheels. "This is the world's first self-balancing human transporter," Kamen said. "You stand on this Segway Human Transporter and you think forward and then you go forward. If you think backward, you go backward." At the heart of Mr. Kamen’s wonder wheels are five micro-machined gyroscopes and two accelerometers that monitor the rider's center of gravity more than 100 times a second, and then signal both the direction and the speed to the device's electric motor and wheels.

By the time Diane was zipping around the studio I wanted one. I was smitten. Maybe I was just tired, I had finished six miles by then.

The first time I saw a Segway up close and person was during a 5K race early last year. A pair of medics zoomed up and down the race course looking for the under trained and under hydrated. Zipping around on the Segway looked so cool, once you could get past the required helmet dork factor. But wait, was it really cool or did I just want to stop running?

Last week while stuck in traffic on Mockingbird Lane I glanced to my right and saw a Segway store nestled in a strip across from SMU. I had to check it out. “Segway is gaining momentum in Dallas,” said Wayne Hager, Segway sales associate without a trace of an intended pun. “One of the exciting things going on in Dallas is its urban lifestyle.” He went on to say that Segway owners are individuals of a wide age range who purchase a Segway for serious use or novelty. The Texas Transportation Code classifies the Segway as an ‘electric personal assistive mobility device’ and states that it is street legal for any residential street roadway or public highway with a speed limit of 30 mph or less. You don’t need insurance or a license to drive and the only maintenance is to keep the tires inflated and the battery charged. One charge will keep you going for about 24 miles.

There are two models to choose from – the x2 and the i2. The x2 is the off road model you can see in action on Youtube being used to herd sheep. And the i2 is the urban commuter version, the model of choice when dragging a co-worker sitting in a desk chair around the office, again, courtesy of Youtube. Accessories abound – headlights, taillights, cargo cases and a trailer hitch compatible hauler – this is Texas after all.

After giving me the basics Wayne asked me if I was ready for a test drive. He didn’t have to ask twice. His main piece of advice was “Don’t over think this. The Segway does that for you.” I hopped on as Wayne stood in front of me like an excited parent ready to catch their tripping toddler. The carpeted showroom awaited me. I was off like a shot; well, as fast as you can go on the ‘turtle’ setting where your max speed is 6mph. Getting started was easy, stopping…well…not so much. After nearly taking out a stack of boxes I figured out my operator error. I had been over thinking, moving my ankles back and forth like I was skiing instead of just standing up straight, tipping back and forth to go. That problem out of the way I was a Segway pro. Within minutes I was doing my best Titanic impression, flying forward, arms spread wide, yelling “I’m the king of the world!”

It was new, it was fun, and I had a blast. With a top speed of 12 mph I can certainly break any personal best race times. But even though the thrill of riding on one got my heart pumping, I don’t think getting a Segway will get my heart rate where it needs to be like the treadmill does. So I’ll be back at the Y tomorrow morning watching Diane for the next big thing.

Spam

2007-03-09T09:04:00.001-08:00

When are spammers going to realize that I don't need dick pills no matter how they spell it?

Queen Linda's Weekly Address

2007-02-22T08:55:00.000-08:00

Thursday, February 22, 2007
Good Morning Fellow Queens!
Due to the little man being home from school due to an allergic reaction to his strep throat antibiotic - I don't have to go into detail. You all have seen and starred in that movie - I have been watching a whole slew of kid TV with him.
With apologies to our Queens who have already survived this right of passage and our Queen Mums (those Queens who have grown sons and live to tell, All Hail!) here are my observations.

Either Maisy is a huge, giant mouse or that Eddie the elephant is a pygmy.

When is Ming Ming from Wonder Pets going to get some speech therapy?

Is it me or is Joe from Blue's Clues a little.....creepy?

Diego and Dora are the same person. Just like Michael Jackson and Diana Ross.

I want Cosmo from The Fairly Odd Parents to suffer an unfortunate accident rendering him mute. Such an icky show, now banned from my castle.

And finally, Prince #3 better get better soon. Patrick from Spongebob is starting to sound like an intellectual to me.
Our boy story is a compilation from our Message Board Queens (to join in, click here) who pondered the question- What have you found in your dryer?
Money - I call this getting paid! Rocks -lots of them. A pull-up -eww. Crayons -usually not found until after the clothes come out of the dryer. Toilet paper. Poker chips. Worms. Matchbox cars. School ID's. Shark teeth. Shells. Plastic army guys. Ticks -they evidently survive the wash cycle. Snail - they don't.

Reign On Queens! And check their pockets!

Queen Linda

What. The. Hell. Week Two.

2007-02-21T09:24:00.000-08:00

My futile attempts to contribute to the Ford Family Fund led me to a job interview yesterday for a small catering company. I figured $25 per delivery would be a way to get some dinero, still get some writing done and take a teeny step out of our seemingly endless financial pergatory. Hopefully I would dodge the fun of last week's Valentine's Day mommy-has-to-work-let's-all-get-sick. Yeah right.
On the way home from the successful interview and commitment to shadow a driving for the next two days I get a call from the school. "Your son has a head to toe rash, you need to pick him up."
After a trip back to the ped it appears that he has had a reaction to the strep antibiotic. nice. But he is back at school today, splotches and all.
I ask you again..
Is someone trying to tell me something?
ps. day one of no smoking. Encouragement please!

My first freelance article!!!

2007-02-15T07:17:00.000-08:00

The day I came bearing roses
The Dallas Morning News, 07:46 AM CST on Tuesday, February 13, 2007
By LINDA MARIE FORD / Contributor
I have a list. And my name is not Earl.
It is not the cliché Things to Do Before I Die list. I have a Things I Never Thought I Would Do but Have Done list.
I approach life in a "Hey, that could be one for The List" kind of way.
There are several beauties on The List already, such as spending two weeks in Australia; seeing the Pope on Easter Sunday; running a marathon; being profiled in Ladies' Home Journal and attending NASCAR.
So, last February, when I saw a sign seeking floral delivery drivers, I knew it was something to add to The List.
•
On Valentine's Day, I pull up to the loading dock at 7:15 a.m. The pros have their vans lined with waterproof tarps cradling plastic bins that are partitioned for maximum loading.
I take a clipboard and read over the procedures:
1. Proper loading of deliveries is most important.
2. It is my responsibility to check for missing roses, discolored water or damaged filler.
3. I must get a signature for all deliveries.
4. I will be paid $6 for each delivery.
I am given a sign for my windshield that says, "FTD Floral Delivery." It looks more professional than the one I made that says, "Dear Officer. Please don't tow me. I'm delivering flowers for Valentine's Day. Maybe I have some for you!"
•
7:51 a.m.: The van is loaded and I'm off for my first delivery. I take a right turn out of the parking lot and hear a splash from the back seat. My quick turning skills, perfected during years of driving carpool, will not be needed today. The address is a building at Southern Methodist University. I find it and hustle in with the roses. The receptionist takes them; the lucky recipient isn't in. Buzz kill. But my first delivery is completed.
8:41: Second delivery information includes an address and building that don't match. I check the card to see who sent Mitzi flowers and curse him.
10:17: Loaded and ready to go again. I'm known as the woman who made three deliveries to SMU in an hour. I don't know whether that is good or bad.
11:34: My car smells like flowers. It's much better than the sour-milk-and-stinky-boy smell it usually has.
12:14: The bloom is off the rose, literally. While pulling an arrangement out, I spun too quickly and decapitated a rose. I replace it with extras I brought for just such an emergency.
1:18: My nonexistent sense of direction makes me long for the compass feature in my old car. I eat a power bar and recaffeinate.
2:15: I was in the elevator of an office building when the doors opened and a guy started to get on. When he saw the arrangement I had, he uttered, "Doh!" I surmise that he also forgets his wife's birthday, their anniversary and which day the garbage goes out. I told him to relax, he had plenty of time to get something for his sweetie. He owes me big.
2:43: Time to turn in my paperwork and add floral transport engineer to The List. Everyone likes to peek through the peephole and see someone delivering flowers. Well, except for the woman who was bummed when she realized that the huge arrangement I had was for her neighbor.
Linda Marie Ford is a Dallas freelance writer and founder of It's Good to Be the Queen, a Web site for moms of boys. E-mail her at queenlinda@itsgoodtobethe queen.com.

What. The. Hell. work day 4

2007-02-12T08:34:00.000-08:00

Today it is strep. The little man is home with me but should go to school tomorrow.
Aint antibiotics grand?

What the hell.

2007-02-11T06:43:00.000-08:00

I decided to follow up last year's gig as a valentine delivery chick with a 5 day stint at Godiva.
The first day was a bit of training, hanging out in the store. The rest of the time would be spent handing out samples and doing what I like best- yapping with complete strangers. So far I've advised two guys on the perfect engagement, gave one dude my list of how to weed out women that aren't right for him and talked a woman down off the ledge when she wanted to buy nut clusters for her highly allergic mother in law.
All fun, but here's the prob.
Day One - Prince #2 staggers into the kitchen saying he doesn't feel well. And he looks it too. Hubby could swing going into the office later and Prince #1 had a 1/2 day so my sicky boy was only home alone for a nano second. My "I am the worst mother in the world" mental beating is gruesome.
Day Two - I was able to catch 10 minutes of the kids basketball game before my shift at choco land. I'm waiting to turn right out of the school parking lot and a 3 car pile up happens right in front of me. Simple teenage failure to stop. One chick was stopped signaling to go left, the car behind her stopped, the car behind her-not so much. The last 2 cars had teenage boys driving them and they were so freaked. Poor little guys. I called 911, made sure everyone was ok, gave my statement to the police and was 30 minutes late for work.
Day Three- Today- 7:30 am, the call every parent longs to hear - "Moooooommmmmy! I don't feel good." Prince #3 is now running a 102.5 temp and I'm supposed to be a la mall in 2 hours. His temp is back down, I'm worried that it is strep, hubby has to go on a business trip on Monday leaving me to rely on the kindness of friends to juggle the boys. So let's do the math- $7.50 an hour, which I think the boys blew the last 2 days salary when they went to Zuzu's for dinner last night because that is way easier than raiding the pantry.
Day 1 - Sick kid
Day 2 - Three car pile up blocking my way to work
Day 3 - Another sick kid.
Someone is trying to tell me something.

Ahhh yes. Catholic Schools Week

2007-01-30T05:42:00.000-08:00

And "Crazy Sock Day"

Trust me, we did reach a compromise that included pants.

Socks

2007-01-29T06:35:00.000-08:00

What is it about boys and missing socks?
I have decided that the points of the Missing Sock Bermuda Triangle are- 1) my boys' feet, 2) the washer/dryer and 3) their sock drawers.
1) You would think that socks would be safe on their feet. But no, my princes don't ever bother to wear their shoes when they play football in the front yard. Every day it is the same thing. "What are you doing out there in your socks!? Put your shoes on!" This is second only to my screaming, "Put on a coat!" when it is 42 degrees. After prince #1 went through 4 pairs of socks in a week we called him for a formal proclamation. "Tim, today you are a man. Henceforth you will purchase your own socks." That worked!
2) Ahh, the washer and dryer, the commonly accused appliance. I truly think that my Maytag duo do eat some socks; but there are just as many stuck behind or under them. Like any boy will admit to a missed jump shot of socks to the wash cycle and actually fish them out from the tangle of cords and tubing behind the washer! After the laundry comes out of the dryer if I see socks with huge holes in them, I'll chuck them. One day Prince #2 came to me wailing, "My socks keep disappearing!" "Well sweetie, they had huge holes so I threw them out." "You are throwing them out???" He was absolutely incredulous. You would have thought I told him I spent the morning backing over his Ipod with the minivan.
3) I have also realized that if one boy has his brother's sock in his drawer it will stay there -forever. Every once in awhile when I dare to dump the drawers for a weed out I will find Elmo socks among my 14 year olds sweat socks. I don't even want to know what they are going to do with said sweat socks when they reach puberty.
And don't get me started on the connection to my boys and my missing sanity!

salad

2007-01-28T06:12:00.000-08:00

Who is the idiot that decided that chicken + lots of mayo + other goodies = a salad? oh yeah, I'm so healthy eating that!!

Isn't it cute....

2007-01-26T18:05:00.000-08:00

... that the candy boxes have "To close insert tab" Who closes a box of Junior Mints once you open them?
....when you are driving car pool and you hear from the back seat, "I love Power Rangers STD." I think he meant Power Rangers Mystic Force. Makes me itch just thinking about it.
....when your 10 year old and his friend ask you, "What's the word for having four kids at a time?"
"That's quadruplets boys."
"And five kids?"
"Quintuplets."
"And six?"
"Sextuplets."
"What?"
"Sextuplets."
Insert Beavis and Butthead laughter here.

huh?

2007-01-24T10:05:00.000-08:00

My mother-in-law gave me two black running outfits for Christmas.
She knows I run at night.
kidding.

More About The Queendom

2007-01-24T09:29:00.000-08:00

Here is the scoop on the Queendom!

IT'S GOOD TO BE THE QUEEN: AN INTERNET PARTY FOR MOMS OF BOYS

In spring of 2002, Linda Marie Ford invited other Lakewood moms of boys to a Sunday brunch to celebrate being the Queens of their households. After the coronations, the Queens exchanged “You-will-never-believe-what-my-son-did” stories, tips for parenting and ways to get play doh out of carpets. They reassured each other that – yes, it is hard to be the only source of estrogen in the house and vowed to get together often. In February of 2003 Ford took to the internet and launched www.itsgoodtobethequeen.com . The High Tea and Toddys party to mark the occasion was covered by The Dallas Morning News. The resulting feature story was re-printed in papers across the country and led to coverage in the May 2004 issue of Ladies’ Home Journal, the October 2004 issue of Pregnancy magazine and the August 2006 issue of Dallas Child. Fellow Queens receive Queen Linda’s Weekly Address via email which features tales of life in Ford’s castle, son taming ideas and boy stories sent in from the over 3,700 registered Queens around the world. Queens can also take advantage of the active message board as well as start a formal chapter, purchase party boxes and pampering gifts. Queen Linda may be reached at QueenLinda@itsgoodtobethequeen.com
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Welcome, welcome, welcome!!

2007-01-24T09:24:00.000-08:00

Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!

There are so few virgin experiences left in life. And this is one for me.

A friend advised me to set up a blog so I would have a place for my rants, the essays in my head and to further the world domination plan for my website for moms of boys - It's Good To Be The Queen.

thanks for checking in.more to come!!!

Reign on!

Queen Linda Marie Ford