Smiling Mom

Once upon a time there was a girl who named her­self “Julia But­terfly.”  Julia But­terfly was a hip­pie living in Hum­boldt County around the same time my hus­band and I atten­ded Hum­boldt State Uni­ver­sity.  When she heard that her ancient friend, “Luna” was going to be chop­ped down, she was heart­bro­ken.  Julia But­terfly sta­ged a pro­test.  She began to live in “Luna” in an attempt to save this ancient friend.

Julia “But­terfly” Hill lived in her beau­ti­ful tree Luna for 738 days.  Even­tually a deal was cut (haha!) with the lum­ber com­pany and But­terfly vaca­ted her nest.

Jump for­ward to this sum­mer, 2008 when a stand off at CSU Ber­ke­ley with another pro­tes­ting cha­rac­ter hip­pie who deci­ded to take up resi­dence in a tree that CSU Ber­ke­ley was plan­ning to remove to make way for an ath­le­tic faci­lity. (hmm, sound familiar??)

Any­way, this pro­tes­ter, Amanda Tier­ney, dub­bed her­self, “Dumps­ter Muffin.”

Dumps­ter Muf­fin.  Um, OK?

She should have really taken her cue from her pre­de­ces­sor, Julia “But­terfly” and pic­ked a more beco­ming name.

But wha­te­ver.  Dumps­ter Muf­fin it was.

Ms. Muf­fin would become hys­te­ri­cal when anyone would approach her perch. She’d flap her arms and go into con­vul­sions threa­te­ning to martyr her­self for the cause.

Sadly, Dumps­ter and a few of her friends were even­tually star­ved out of her sweet tree and promptly escor­ted away from Berkeley’s campus.

Poor Dumps­ter Muffin…

Anyhoo, after vie­wing my recent video, many have asked why, oh why, our daughter’s sweet Straw­berry Short­cake doll has been named, “Dumps­ter Muffin.”

Well, it’s a copy­cat story, I’m afraid to say.  One day we came home and noti­ced Straw­berry was loo­king a bit hag­gard and was in need of a bath.

It appea­red to have been weeks, if not months, since the last time she’d bathed.

And her hair.  Y.U.C.K.  it was mat­ted mess.  My hus­band swears that if you look close enough you can see things moving around just below the surface…

As we were escor­ting Straw­berry to the washing machine her bath, we noti­ced a note attached to her back just bet­ween her shoul­ders.  It said, “Sur­face wash only.”

Fin­ding this horri­ble note was our final straw.  We were disap­poin­ted.  Straw­berry was not living up to our expectations.

Kno­wing that Straw­berry Short­cake would never be the doll we’d hoped she would, we decide do embrace her dir­ti­ness, Hepa­ti­tis C, lice, and all, and love her for the doll she aspi­red to be.

That very day, we built Straw­berry Short­cake a perch in the only tree we had and set her free.

Today Straw­berry “Dumps­ter Muf­fin” Short­cake can be seen sta­ging daily pro­tests when she doesn’t get what she wants.  Sadly for her, tan­trums in this house fall on deaf ears.