The Good Stuff

Recipe Wednesday

2012-02-01T10:41:00.002-05:00

Two days a week my kids have late afternoon activities so on those days the last thing I want to do is come home at 5:30 and *start* to cook. Also, I'm a pretty big fan of throwing ingredients in a pot and hitting "go".

I've been seeing tons of stuff made with lentils lately but have never used them. I also learned that they have tons of protein and if I can get more without having to eat more meat, I'm in. So much to my husband's dismay, I decided to make a soup. He thinks soup is an appetizer; I call it one bowl of the food pyramid with a quarter of the cleanup.

I found this recipe on AllRecipes a couple of weeks ago and it is BY FAR one of the best soups I've ever eaten. It's not a crockpot-easy recipe in that it does take a little bit of sauteing and such but nothing debilitating and it still simmers while we're gone and sings "Ready!" when we get back. I changed up a couple of steps (noted in blue) and some reviewers suggested adding potatoes for heartiness.

P.S. Even the husband admitted it was pretty excellent.

* * *

Ingredients

1 onion, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
2 carrots, diced (cut into large chunks)
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 (14.5 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
2 cups dry lentils
8 cups water (4 cups water, 4 cups chicken broth)
1/2 cup spinach, rinsed and thinly sliced
2 tablespoons vinegar (1 tbs. red wine vinegar)
salt to taste
ground black pepper to taste

Directions

In a large soup pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add onions, carrots, and celery; cook and stir until onion is tender. Stir in garlic, bay leaf, oregano, and basil; cook for 2 minutes.
Stir in lentils, and add water and tomatoes. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer for at least 1 hour. When ready to serve stir in spinach, and cook until it wilts. Stir in vinegar, and season to taste with salt and pepper, and more vinegar if desired. ** I added the 2 TBS called for in my last batch and it was a tad vinegary for my taste so in the future I will do only 1 TBS.

P.S. again: I ate this for about four meals in a row. It's even better warmed up the next day. Big batches are in my future.

This just actually happened

2012-01-29T12:11:00.002-05:00

Landon: Moooooooooooom!!!! Ty just flushed the toilet for no reason!

Me: He flushed the toilet for no reason?? Oh my goodness, I can't believe it! (Faking utter mortification)

Landon: No! My head was in it!

Me: (Now showing genuine mortification) WHAT? Your head was in the toilet??? No, it wasn't.

Ty: Yes it was. See? (showing me that the front of Landon's hair is wet)

Me: Omg, please don't ever do that again. Please.

Both: Okay . . .
Landon (to Ty as they're walking away): Now gimme my ten bucks.

Us in the Car:

2011-12-23T11:17:00.001-05:00

Ty: You know Kyla's birthday party was NOT her birthday. Her birthday is actually on Thursday, not Sunday. Why don't people have their parties ON their birthday?

Me: Because it's really hard to have birthday parties on weekdays because kids go to school all day, moms and dads have to work all day, and that doesn't give much time to have a party. Plus weekdays are days for baseball practice, and cheerleading, and Tae Kwon Do, and all that stuff.

Ty: CHEERLEADING???? We don't do CHEERLEADING!

Me: Yeah, but some girls do cheerleading instead of other sports. Hallie goes to cheerleading.

Landon: And some boys go into cheerleaders, too. Don't they, Mom?

Ty: Into cheerleadING, Landon!

Me: (silently thanking god neither of them are old enough to make a joke out of that.)

Happy Holidays

2011-12-20T23:18:00.001-05:00

It seems every time I actually sit to write on this blog I feel the need to apologize for being gone so long, but I've learned to just overlook and accept it and I'm sure you have as well. It won't be long before I'll need to just throw in the towel on this gig, but I just can't bring myself to do it just yet. Daily -- DAILY -- I type up blog posts in my head, or think "that would make a great post" or "I really need to blog again before I'm fifty" but I just can't find the time to sit and form a cohesive thought.  I don't have time to do anything. Today I went to the mall in the pants I slept in, brushed my teeth but did not brush my hair, and may or may not have fed my kids protein shakes for breakfast. Shit is cuh-razy around here right about now.

I vow every December to start next year in October so I'll be able to actually enjoy Christmas -- you know, bake because I feel like it to some Michael Buble holiday classics while sipping a cool glass of wine in my ruffly Holiday Martinis apron, snuggle on the couch with my babies and some hot cocoa to reacquaint them with Randy and Ralphie, stringing cranberries for fun by the open fireplace and twirling in the snow. But no.  I'm a frenzied chicken at the grocery store, tearing my kitchen apart at midnight, growling at my kids to go to bed nightly, and having mild panic attacks in my sleep worrying about whether or not we moved the friggin' elf.

On another note, school is out for winter break (yay . . .)  and Ty brought home some fun things they did to pass the time at school today. One was all about snow.

1. My favorite thing to do when it is snowing is throw snowballs.
2. The best thing about snow is you get to throw snowballs.
3. When I see a snowflake, it makes me feel like a snow angel.
4. If I could change one thing about snow it would be it would always come down as snowballs.

So there you have it.   Merry Christmas!

Doh!

2011-12-07T22:21:00.000-05:00

Remember that before and after pic I was talking about? The chick in the picture AND her trainer both commented on the thread. I kind of feel like a fly on the wall watching the mess go down. And it's all on my hijacked pin.

(me feeling awkward . . . )

Get off my Pin, people!

2011-12-06T20:11:00.001-05:00

I found Pinterest back in the spring after having seen another blogger reference it. I followed the link and realized that I loved it, especially since I've Pinterested for years in actual hands-on form. If I see something in a magazine or a catalog, I'll circle whatever it is on the page with a Sharpie and make a note about it (i.e. "Great on the back wall behind the couch", or "color palette" or whatever) and then rip it out. I actually have a three-ring binder filled with sheet protectors and page separators for different rooms in the house so I can keep my ideas organized. I'm cool like that. So imagine my fancy when I discovered that I can dump all of that crap onto a hard drive. And the fact that they weren't letting just anyone in -- that I had to be invited to join -- just made me want it more.

Well, never mind that everybody and their grandmother is on Pinterest now (I'm serious. I know grandmothers on Pinterest) but "pinning" has become as much of a household word as "Facebooking" someone or "Googling" something. Aaaand apparently the selective period is over since I recently got a shitload of hate comments on one of my pins. Seriously, who does that? Pinterest began as such a grown-up place to get ideas on pimping your house and making your own make-up from scratch, and all of a sudden people look at a before-and-after pic of a chick (not me!) who lost weight and got ridic in shape and are like "Sorry, I don't think that's possible." Wha? I just wanted to pin it for inspiration. Now I have 35 comments of people basically arguing whether it's possible or not and 400something repins (all of which were getting emailed to me when repinned.) Get off my pin, people!

P.S. I pinned it 6 weeks ago and back then when someone else would repin, others could repin from them. Did Pinterest change something? Why after 6 weeks am I just now getting all this traffic to that one pin?? I'm about *this* close to deleting it because I'm sick of the feed. It is pretty damn inspiring though.

Thing I Love

2011-12-01T09:13:00.001-05:00

Let me preface this by saying that I find creepy enjoyment in infomercials. I always have. I remember as a preteen rebelling against the night by watching ads for cookware and small appliances long after WWF had wrapped it up for the night. I was thoroughly enthralled and somehow managed to think that I needed all of it, all before I was even old enough to wash my own clothes. I took some time off once I discovered real things to do in the night, like dance or work (but not dance for work). And then came actually being tired (aka, The last decade).

But Directv, oh you little devil you. You have 45 channels designated just to infomercials! And just like any addict, with a little temptation, I was tuned in at 1:30 in the afternoon, completely ignoring my children and any wifely duties in which I would normally be engaged, more or less. The product: A vacuum.

Well, it does just so happen that I need a new vacuum. I really loved my Dyson, all purple and stuff, but the Little Vacuum That Could just couldn't anymore. I know! I was completely disappointed and quite frankly a little peeved since I thought for sure it would last the rest of my life. Maybe it was the fact that I ran it like a dog every single day of its 6-year life sucking up dog hair and who knows what but slowly-but-surely it started konking out. I tried every fix I could find but to no avail.

So I see the infomercial for the Shark Navigator and I'm thinking I probably need one. I'm loyally on the Dyson wagon after having been shown the light but this little ditty is looking convincing. Sure it might not last even six years but at $140 a pop I could buy three in the next six years and still pay the same as a Dyson. So yes, please. But I'm not going to call in the next 20 minutes. Who does that? So I wait.

The following week I walk through The Pearly Gates, I mean into Costco, and lo and behold, they have the Shark Navigator. Aaaand! the Shark Steam Mop. It was like a little Shark family, all below $200. It was a good deal. I took both.

Because I'm patient and chill and extremely unexciteable, I tore it out of the box as we pulled into the garage. I had a perfect spot to try it out: Right where I had cursed the Dyson for its inabilities just moments before.

This is the sweet proof it left:

and this is the evidence of how badly my Dyson had bit it:

That was just that one spot and all AFTER I had vacuumed with the Dyson. Gross and glorious all at the same time. (It also happens to make me worry about how "cleaned" the carpets really were when we moved in. *Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts . . . *)

And the good news, guys: Bed Bath and Beyond has the Lift Away Navigator (same but with a lift-away canister) for the same price as Costco but you can use a 20% off coupon! Keep Calm and Vacuum On.

First Day of School - Part Two

2011-10-27T14:42:00.001-04:00

Sept. 12, 2011 - Landon's First Day of Pre-K

Moving sucks. Probably one of the crappiest aspects of moving over the summer is having about three seconds to find a preschool before all the openings are gobbled up, especially when it's THE preschool. That's why I made my calls before we even knew for sure we were coming here. Lucky for us, it all worked out.

So here's Landon, all ready to go for the first day of pre-k, sun in his face and wind in his hair. Oh, nope, wait. That's the faux hawk.

I have no idea what preschools have against backpacks. Last year it was buckets, this year it's open totes. Landon just really wants to wear a friggin' backpack.

Waiting in the drop off line:

THIS drop off line:

Looks like the line to get into Busch Gardens in July. I-95 during rush hour traffic. Parking lot at Toys R Us on Black Friday. Eh, you get the point. That's four lines, folks. I'm pretty sure the last preschool had one and that included about 15 cars max. Crazy enough, they have a pretty tight system. It takes 15 minutes to get to my kid at pickup but it works. And it makes showing up 10 minutes late not really late at all.

First Day of School - Part One

2011-10-19T00:07:00.002-04:00

Sept. 6, 2011 - Ty's First Day of Second Grade

First of all: Longest. Summer. Ever.

It really is bittersweet moving in the summer: The good news is that the kids are out of school so they're not making the transition in the middle of the year. The bad news is that the kids are out of school so they need to be entertained (and fed and supervised) and I can't really get anything done like I'd like. Honestly, if it were just me, I'd work non-stop on something until it was finished, even if it meant not eating for 10 hours straight, and then slurp down a bowl of cereal for dinner and go back to it. But kids whining my name every eight minutes flat really puts a damper on my flow.

Needless to say, The First Day of School was a glorious, long-anticipated event for all involved. It started like every year with specially-shaped pancakes, which started out a wee bit phallic

but turned out to be perfectly fine T's, L's, and Y's.

(P.S. "LT" is what Jeff calls Landon. He started calling him that in utero when we were going to name him Landon Thomas, never mind that he actually ended up being Landon Christopher.)

(P.S.S. In case you're wondering, Teenage Shea moved to his dad's over the summer to have more fun and less rules so he missed out on his name in pancakes and forced front-porch photography. Sucks to be him.)

(I realize the bottom of our door looks to be a sickly shade of lime green, but you guessed it -- more brass!)

For the first time we live in a school bus zone and Ty begged me to let him ride the bus. I hesitated at first because I was having a really hard time letting go of that control of getting him to and fro, but once I realized that ~~it would buy me an extra 20 minutes in the morning and I didn't have to fight traffic~~ the bus stop was right in front of our house and only had to drive two streets over, I obliged. He climbed on proud and confident. Who was I to deny him that?

In the meantime, I think I cleaned some things and typed some stuff and Landon practiced his break dancing.

(This new hobby is not to be taken lightly. It is a serious, serious passion for him. He practices all day every day. He's graduated to spinning and flipping into a back bend. He'd be a hit on the streets. Or weddings.)

The day flew by and the bus brought my kid back just as I had left him, only one day smarter.

Humble

2011-10-02T20:25:00.001-04:00

Us in the car today:

Ty: Do you think I'm a space dork?

Me: I don't think you're a dork at all!

Ty: But do you think I know too much stuff?

(Kind of, yeah)
Me: No, you can never know too much stuff. It just means you're super smart, and people love it when someone knows a lot about something because you can teach them. Especially girls.

Ty: Really?

Me: Absolutely. Girls love boys that are handsome, funny, nice, and smart. Those things are really important. It's like the quadruple-fecta. And you have ALL of them!

Ty: Well, I'm not actually quadruple-tastic. (?) I just have three.

Me: Oh yeah?

Ty: Yeah . . . I'm actually not *that* nice.

Brass Overload

2011-10-01T13:39:00.008-04:00

Moving always puts me in a funk. Doing so two summers in a row really effs up my game. But somehow six weeks (10 now, since it's taken me a month to finish this post) have passed which seems like two, and I realize that it may take me months -- years even! -- before I get every single disorganized cranny to meet my perfectionist needs. Especially since I walked into this:

and this:

and a whole lotta this:

Oh wait. Did I forget this little gem?

I have to admit they did a great job on the zebra striping. It just didn't flow with my kid's Toy Story room.

So unfortunately now it just looks like this:

Boring, I know.

We did end up having to paint a good 75% of the house (some people's paint choices concern me) and on top of being moving-in busy, I decided it would be a good idea to take on a brand new job opportunity that would require me to learn a ton of stuff that takes me at least 70 times longer than it probably should because I'm teaching myself, all six months before making a move. Genius. Don't get me wrong -- I'm absolutely loving this little adventure and the ~~relief~~ pride I feel once I've finally achieved what I'd set out to learn is priceless. I like to think that I'm getting smarter while making money and being creative. Needless to say, the blog has suffered.

What's funny is that having an excuse for not keeping up my blog in trying times might seem like a nice break but really it kinda stresses me out. I just know once I get so far behind it's going to be short of a miracle to get caught back up again, not to mention I now experience moments with a blogger's mentality (much like a scrapbooker who views special occasions on a double 12x12 page layout in her mind) thinking of how I could turn this very special moment into a post. Except for most events, once the train's left the depot, it's kind of irrelevant. I mean, I can't very well post a 10-year anniversary of 9/11 post two months after the fact (but watch me.)

Anyway, despite the obscene amount of brass fixtures and more towel bars than any one family should ever have in two bathrooms

(that's 11 total. Because really, who doesn't need two full-size, side-by-side towel bars in the separate toilet area?)

the house is pretty great. We have a great little neighborhood, albeit quiet and older (and I mean the people, not the community) and after five full days of painting it's actually pretty in here. And besides, you really can't beat this backyard.

Fun Runner

2011-06-09T08:19:00.001-04:00

This past weekend Ty's school held a 5K and Mile Fun Run. You may remember the one Shea's school had back in the fall which was Ty's first run. Landon kicked it in the stroller for that one because surely a preschooler can't run a whole big mile! But we've noticed he's been rather quick lately, beating Ty in foot races and giving me a run for my money in the jogging department so we decided this time around to sign him up for the Fun Run and just see how he does.

This is how he did:

That would be a FIRST PLACE trophy for Pre-K Boy! I didn't look at his time but Jeff claims it was roughly a 10-minute mile. Not bad for a four-year-old. I had no idea he'd even be able to keep up much less take the whole dang thing. We were so proud!

(The great thing about living across the street from the school? I had time to shower between the race and awards!)

2/3 of my little runners before race time.

We rallied with our neighbors to finish the morning off with sno-cones and a trip to the Farmer's Market. Not a bad start to a Sunday.

Preschool Partay!

2011-05-31T09:20:00.001-04:00

Wednesday was Landon's last day of preschool so on Thursday the school had a party at the park (not just for him but for everybody.) It was a lovely day filled with activities such as painting with plungers.

See those two little girls in the background? In true girl fashion, they giggled dramatically and consistently every single time he stamped the plunger. It was so cute (and I'm pretty sure Landon was feeding off it because he plunged and plunged and plunged. Sometimes he even exaggerated the plunging to get a better reaction. He catches on pretty quickly.)

He hooked up with his friend, Gaby and her brother, Joaquin (who apparently pose better for pictures):

and his buddy, Ryan.

My friend, Marin, and I tried desperately to get a shot of Landon and Connor together for our token Mom/Kid Friends pic but Connor was having sort of an off day.

His big brother, Liam, was all too willing to cooperate though!

When we finally convinced Connor to get in the pic (read: Bribed him with candy), we were able to get this really great group photo (minus the bad lighting, but we were in dire straits at that moment. No do-overs.)

He said So Long to his teachers . . .

and watched some butterflies be set free.

Top it off with a balloon to take home and it ended up being pretty much a perfect day.

Pep Talk

2011-05-20T17:39:00.001-04:00

The first night of Landon's new 'do was tough. Every so often I'd look over to find him staring at the ground, rubbing the top of his head, like he couldn't believe it was gone. If I held him in front of the mirror to look, he'd bury his face in my neck because he didn't want to see it. He was really freaking depressed about it and it was pitiful to watch. He'd cry sporadically and say he wanted his hair back. We broke out the baseball cap and that was solace for a while.

The next morning, he was better and decided he didn't even need the hat anymore. When I realized it was a school day I told him eagerly that all of his friends would get to see his "cool new haircut" and for a second, he looked slightly worried. Then Ty came over to share his thoughts, and I braced myself.

"Hey, Landon. When you go to school today, some kids are gonna like your hair . . . but some kids, they're gonna think your hair's crazy. And you know what you have to say to them? You say, 'I don't care if you don't like my hair, 'cuz it's my hair and I like it! And you should mind your own business!' Okay??" and then he gave him a puppy head pat.

FML

2011-05-18T08:56:00.001-04:00

You know that moment when a kid does something that makes you GASP! and then count to 2,000 before you kill them, cry, or contemplate selling them off? Yeah, I've had two of those this week. It's only Wednesday.

Here's the first one:

Yes, that is my son's signature on the tile floor of our rental in Sharpie! (P.S. I feel the sick need to tell everyone that my floors are clean. The grout here is gross and the tiles are stained and there's nothing I can do about it. Trust me, I've had a bleach-soaked toothbrush to it. It's like base housing all over again, on a cushier scale.)

Thank god for the Magic Eraser or I would have needed a Magic $2600 to cover the deposit we'd be kissing goodbye. I was skeered and not feeling very creative so thank goodness it came off.

Near-Heart Attack #2 happened yesterday afternoon. I had just finished trimming up Landon's hair and thinking how awesome it's finally starting to look. It's flipping over in just the right way and curling up ever so slightly in the back. This kid seriously could be a Beckham with his adorable 'do.

But he eyed the scissors far too intensely, and I should have known better when, once finished, he asked where I keep them. I told him not to worry about it and that he'd be in so much big big trouble if he touches the scissors because they're dangerous. I was confident in his usual obedience and left him alone to poop.

Minutes later, I come back to see if he needed any help to find this:

I was literally in shock. I'm sure the gasping OHMYGOD! didn't help. I wanted to cry because all that work, that full year of in-between to get to that point, was gone, but the look on his face of utter disappointment in himself, the shame and regret, was too much. I cried for him as he cried.

He had cut so close to the scalp (you know that thing that I think every kid does at some point, where they put the scissors flush against the head in the most obvious spot possible?) that shaving was inevitable. In mere minutes we went from a floppy shaggy hairdo to shaved nearly bald. It was quite a shock to all of us, but in the end, I think he looks just as cute. At least now we can see his face. :)

Big Kid

2011-05-17T19:59:00.004-04:00

I knew when we started this assignment that Jeff would have a lot of time on his hands. I did not, however, expect that he'd have so much time that he'd concoct a whole new hobby. This worries me for two reasons. Concern Number One: Remember the bike incident? My husband clearly has no restraint when it comes to starting a new activity. It's 0 or 10 and nothing in between.

Unfortunately, THIS is part of his new hobby. Do I even need to mention Concern Number Two? I've made sure to express my dislike for this new gig if I've even seen him look in the direction of a motorcycle, but he assures me he's fine and that I can't treat him like a child and that he flies a jet so an itty bitty motorcycle should be a cakewalk. So let's just go ahead and say that I'm okay with his body being completely exposed to the elements and crushed into a million pieces should he wreck . . . a Harley? Really? Again, no baby steps?

I realize that he's itching for something different, something to add to our lower-middle-aged collection, and I've unsuccessfully tried to redirect and convince him how awesome a zippy third car would be, you know, for date nights and stuff, but for some reason the Prius I mention just doesn't have the same appeal.

And by the way, he's ridden that bike three times.

Fun Friday

2011-05-14T11:31:00.003-04:00

Yesterday did not go as planned. It started as every Friday does, at Ty's school for weekly volunteering, and I was really looking forward to all the cutting, stapling, and organizing I was going to get to do. Except that when I walked into the classroom, the teacher hands me a cup of paint and some construction paper and tells me I really shouldn't have worn black because I was going to spend the next two hours helping the kids with a fun little project out in the hall.

Normally I would have loved the idea of getting creative with the cute little munchkins, but quite frankly, it's the end of the year and the kids are starting to get on my nerves. The non-stop chatter about the creatures they found over the weekend or the birthday parties they went to that so-and-so was at, too or "Hey, what is that for? Are we going to do that later? Can I touch this? What happens if I do it this way instead of the way you told me to?" is all a little too much for me these days. I do love the way they hug on me though when I come into the classroom and one kid did say I looked "goooood" yesterday so I may last four more weeks.

After leaving the school I headed straight to McLean 45-minutes away for an appointment to assess my hernia situation. Do I even have to mention that DC traffic sucks? So I get to my appointment 15 minutes early and wait 45 minutes to be seen. I go in, tell her I have this hernia and that the reason I'm there in her Plastic Surgery office is because I'd like the Mommy Makeover please. I'm not ashamed; I said before Baby #3 that just as soon as I was finished nursing my last kid I was totally getting my body back. He's 4 now, and here I am at my first consultation. I'd put it off for so long, making sure it's what I really want, and when I discovered I was going to have an abdominal surgery that was going to put me under and out anyway, I might as well go ahead and have 'em tuck and fill while I'm in there.

So I tell the doc all of that, she tells me to get basically completely undressed, and leaves the room. I'm sitting in the gown, a nervous wreck, wishing she'd get in here already, when . . . the fire alarm goes off. Really? I'm wondering if it's going to turn off already, maybe somebody knocked it and it will go away in a sec, but the door opens and it's the doc telling me to get dressed because we have to evacuate.

What the hell? Is this building burning down and I'm on the sixth floor? Is this a sign that I really shouldn't be chopping up my body in such a vain fashion? And on the one day I decide to wear leggings as my bottoms so my feet get stuck while I'm trying to hurriedly shove them through the skinny legs so as not to die in a building fire? Yes, this is a sign. But then we get to the bottom floor and the lady holding the door open tells us there's free ice cream in the parking lot, so maybe not all is lost. (???)

Fortunately we learn minutes later that it was just a drill. The doc says "Wow, we haven't had one of these in forever!" and I am so grateful that it had to happen during my visit, and while I'm sitting naked in a gown. Upon returning, I get re-undressed and the doc assesses my bodily needs. All this time I've been wondering if I really need surgery anyway -- I mean, I think I'm okay, I'd just like to love my body and feel completely confident -- thinking I may get away with just a mini-tuck and a slight lift. Nope. She basically tells me I'm a mess and with all the sagging and wrinkling and bulging that I'd need quite a bit of work and at the tune of about $15,000. So I pick up my ego off the floor and decide that maybe I should just get highlights instead. And as it turns out, I don't even have a hernia after all (thanks, three military doctors) but rather diastasis, which just means that my ab muscles have separated just far enough that my guts are starting to squeeze through. (P.S. Not covered by Tricare.)

Two hours after my scheduled appointment time I leave to face DC traffic again and am on the verge of a freaking aneurysm. I'm yelling at construction sites and at cars with no brake lights. I realize I'm an angry mess and wonder if soothing music will help so I turn my XM to Spa Radio. No help, still angry and in stand-still traffic, when I see a Baskin-Robbins and think that maybe my favorite ice cream will help. I pull off, order, and once again find myself in the I-95 parking lot, only now I'm back to screaming obscenities to rain forest music and my face full of Nutty Coconut.

When I finally get home two hours later, I drop my purse on the counter, bark at my family about how much I loathe driving in this town, and fall flat on my face on the couch, on the verge of tears and complaining of a headache. My dear husband comes over minutes later with a glass of water and an aspirin and I'm realizing how lucky I am. I lay there trying to unwind, but find myself drifting off to sleep about an hour later, physically unable to keep my eyes open. I tell my husband that I'm SO TIRED and he tells me that "that drive'll do it to ya." but then I start to wonder if I've been roofied. I fell asleep at 7:30 on a Friday night and didn't wake up again until this morning.

By the way

2011-05-02T07:46:00.000-04:00

That was fast.

I wanted to tell y'all about this book really quick. ---->

Such a cute book! Jeff bought if for Landon at a used book fair recently so of course, Landon wanted me to read it the minute he walked in the door. We snuggled up on the couch and I prepared myself for another so-so kids' book. So not the case! This is one of the cutest little kids' books I've read in a while -- maybe ever. It has a catchy rhyme to it that the kids love (and makes it fun to read) and the storyline is adorable. I highly recommend it. Actually, I recommend it so much that I find myself asking Landon if we can read it, to which he tells me "maybe another day." Apparently I've exhausted that avenue.

Hiatus-ish

2011-05-02T07:29:00.000-04:00

Well, it should be no surprise that I haven't had to time to write. For those of you not keeping up with my crafting blog, I've started up my Etsy business and have hit the ground running. I knew I wanted to get tons of stuff to advertise, since through my research I learned that successful Etsy businesses need tons of stuff to advertise to reach a broader audience, so I've been creating like crazy and fortunately the ideas are just rolling in. Much to my surprise (and gratefulness!) the orders have been as well. Between designing and filling orders, I barely have time to eat or sleep, what with all the other crap I have to do like ~~cooking~~, ~~cleaning~~, ~~grocery shopping~~, and keeping my kids on track. Needless to say, blogging just hasn't made the cut.

There have been tons of things I want to write about, but no time to sit and write. Besides, when I do sit down, all that comes to the front of my mind is flowers and fonts anyway. I don't want to leave you guys hanging (anymore) so I'm officially calling a sporadic-hiatus. What is a sporadic-hiatus, you ask? Well, it's a term I made up. It means I'll come back here and there but more than likely not very soon or close between. Rest assured my kids are still funny, things are still ticking me off, and we have a move on the horizon that I'm sure will bring a plethora of interesting stories. It may just take until the next move to blog about it.

Let's pretend this is Monday

2011-04-12T22:48:00.000-04:00

Well, the weekend was a stressful one if I do say so myself. And I didn't even do anything. I was scared shitless that we weren't getting a paycheck! Fortunately it ended up being resolved and everything is back to normal, which is awesome since I have a vacation to go on this weekend.

What irritated me about the whole thing was the way it was going down. I'm not much into politics so I managed to stay completely clueless for the majority of the discussion, but once I could no longer avoid it I began to get really frustrated. It was all in the wording. Republicans want to shut down our nation’s government because they want to make it harder for women to get the health services they need? Throwing women under the bus? GOP wants a shutdown to keep women from getting cancer screenings and mammograms? Give me a break. It sounds like the sole issue for the Republicans is to make sure women wither away and die.

I mean, I get it. I'm all for people getting checked out -- but Planned Parenthood isn't the only place that provides those services. For seven adult years I didn't have insurance. I was a struggling single mom in college and working as a waitress yet I managed to get a "women's health" checkup every year and birth control for a minimal fee. It's called the Health Department. For little or no cost they do everything Planned Parenthood does. Oh yeah, except for abortions.

Get over it, Harry Reid. I'm pretty sure the entire Republican party is not a bunch of barbarians who absolutely do not want women to get health screenings. They just don't want to fund a place that provides abortions. I know federal tax dollars don't actually go to the abortions, but you're still supporting the facility. And obviously, insurance or not, there are other options.

Not to mention, Democrats are so hell bent on making sure women get their pap smears that they'll pay freeze the entire American military to make sure it happens. Awesome argument.

Anyway, I'm glad it was all resolved and I don't have to start extreme couponing. Anybody else sit up Friday night like it was New Year's Eve?

What I'm Loving Right Now

2011-04-10T20:03:00.002-04:00

I have come across a ton of things lately that I wonder how I ever lived without. Much like the recipes and the book reviews, I feel compelled to share the love rather than hoard it all for myself (damn, I'm sweet). I made a little widget over there to the right to document it all (okay, I think every single time I type anything that ends with a "t" before the word "it" I end up typing "tit". What is wrong with me?)

Anyway, right now I am LOVING the Kevin & Amanda website. I found it long long ago when I was looking for some fonts and just recently found it again while learning to do my other blog. I cannot believe how much this girl (Amanda, which is essentially only one half of K & A, but the only one who posts anything, so I'm thinking Amanda.com was probably already taken) knows! Seriously, a wealth of knowledge! She knows scrapbooking, fonts, photography, recipes, gardening, how to lose weight, and even website building. Who is crafty and tech savvy?? Her. Too bad I'm straight.

Pop Star . . . or whatever

2011-04-08T17:25:00.000-04:00

Ty has recently discovered his fave boy band, Big Time Rush. He watches the show, downloaded the album, and listens to it all the freaking time. He's also teaching himself to dance just like them (meh, give or take.) Landon, of course, has to be in on this jazz, too.

Check out his fingers.

In the Kitchen

2011-04-06T17:56:00.000-04:00

Well, with the flukey ~~warm~~ HOT! weather we had Monday, I got all amped up to make a summery salad, found this awesome-looking recipe, bought everything, and then broke the winter jackets back out the very next day. I'm telling you; I am royally over the cold. But because my heart is set on making this salad, I'm doing it anyway. It is warming up a tad today -- must've been a cold front -- and I'm not turning down a chance to make anything coconutty.

So without further ado . . .

Coconut Chicken Salad with Warm Honey Mustard Vinaigrette

6 (about 12 oz) chicken tenderloins
6 tbsp shredded coconut
1/4 cup panko crumbs
2 tbsp crushed cornflake crumbs
1/3 cup egg substitute or egg whites
pinch salt
olive oil spray

6 cups mixed baby greens
3/4 cup shredded carrots
1 large tomato, sliced
1 small cucumber, sliced

Vinaigrette

1 tbsp oil
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp white vinegar (balsamic would work too)
2 tsp dijon mustard

Whisk all vinaigrette ingredients; set aside.

Preheat oven to 375°.

Combine coconut flakes, panko, cornflake crumbs and salt in a bowl. Put egg whites or egg beaters in another bowl.

Lightly season chicken with salt. Dip the chicken in the egg, then in the coconut crumb mixture. Place chicken on a cookie sheet lined with parchment for easy cleanup. Lightly spray with olive oil spray and bake for 30 minutes turning halfway, or until chicken is cooked through.

Place 2 cups baby greens on each plate. Divide carrots, cucumber, tomato evenly between each plate. When chicken is ready slice on the diagonal and place on top of greens. Heat dressing in the microwave a few seconds and divide equally between each salad; a little over 1 tbsp each.

P.S. The recipe site (Gina's Skinny Recipes) has a ton of low-fat recipes that look really good. My friend, Gina (not the one who runs the site, but that would be an awesome plug!) told me about it and I'm just now getting around to browsing it. I think it's meant for Weight Watchers, but it'd work for the universal weight watcher.

Book(s) Review -- In Brief

2011-04-04T22:37:00.000-04:00

So I've put a few books under my belt lately, which is a big deal for me. Not because I don't like to read, because I do. It's just that finding something that keeps my full, undivided, cynical attention is hard to come by. To put it simply, I like stuff to happen. I need a page-turner, something I can't put down but that also isn't so unbelievable that I cringe and say "Come on" the whole time (ahem Twilight.) And being easy to read doesn't hurt. After all, by the time I hit the sack, my brain is spent. I've had all the "What does this or that mean?" I can handle for one day without having to ask myself that. I know I'm smart; I don't need for an author to make me question that.

A couple of you have asked me what I thought about the books I've read most recently, so without spoiling, let me give you the gist. And please, if anyone has read these books and would like to chat about them, email me! I've been really wanting to have my own personal book club.

Sarah's Key - Set in WWII, which I love, but it seems to be the trendy era in novels lately. Doesn't matter; I can read about it over and over again. It's told in two voices, which flip flop back and forth between chapters, and one is decidedly more riveting than the other. Ends happy/sad. I cried (and I'm not a book cryer.)

Night - Set in WWII (see?) and graphically follows a teenage boy through concentration camps. My husband actually read this first and thought I'd like it. I don't think he had any idea it was on Oprah's Book Club. Quick read, sad, and kind of infuriating.

Are you there Vodka? It's Me Chelsea - Ah, such a nice break. I laughed until I cried (guess I am a book cryer.) The dialogue is way funnier than her storytelling.

Room - Disturbing, a little difficult to comprehend not only in the concepts but also because the narrative is five-year-old lingo (much like how Push was told in the broken, slangy, vulgar English of a teen girl), but easy to read. Slow at first but moved along well after the first quarter. I was a tad cynical of some of the story lines, but didn't hate it.

And as you can see, I'm taking a hiatus and learning about my camera. I figure that hunk of luxury isn't doing me any better than my dinky point-and-shoot if I don't learn how to make it purr.

In the Kitchen

2011-04-01T17:49:00.000-04:00

Well, I didn't make a new recipe on Wednesday, but I did make one on Monday! It's a salad recipe Jeff's aunt made over the holidays and blew my socks off. She sent me home with the recipe and I hadn't had a chance to make it until this week (it calls for bacon and I like to ~~think I~~ reserve that for special occasions.)

Our neighbors had to suddenly put down their dog that morning and it was just a bad bad day for them. I went over to check up on them and found myself spontaneously asking them to come over for dinner. That was at 3 o'clock. Surprisingly, I had all the ingredients (which makes me realize it's a lot easier to make than I gave it credit for and can stay in regular rotation no problem.)

It was another huge hit. Not only did I remember why I couldn't stop eating it in the first place but our friends raved about it.

This recipe yields a ton so I pared it down by about fourth. And again, my revisions are in blue.

Mandarin Orange Salad with Poppy Seed Dressing

18 slices bacon
1 cup apple cider vinegar (red wine vinegar)
2.25 cups white sugar
1.5 red onion, coarsely chopped
1.5 tsp dry mustard powder
3/4 tsp salt
1.5 cups veg oil
1 tbsp poppy seeds
30 cups torn romaine lettuce leaves (green leaf)
3 (10 oz.) cans mandarin orange segments, drained (fresh, because I had them)
3/4 toasted slivered almonds (sliced almonds, raw)

Directions:

1. Cook bacon until crispy. Drain, crumble, set aside.

2. Place vinegar, red onion, sugar, mustard powder, and salt into the bowl of a blender. Cover and puree on high until smooth. Reduce blender speed to med-low; slowly pour in veg oil and blend until creamy. Stir in poppy seeds and set aside.

3. To serve, toss romaine in a large bowl with the crumbled bacon, Mandarin oranges, and enough dressing to moisten. Place onto salad plates and sprinkle with toasted almonds.

Strawberries would be really good in this. And maybe goat cheese. Really though, I think it's the dressing that makes it. And for the record, I'm pretty sure this falls in the rogue "salad" category as far as healthy goes.

Superwoman -- as long as there are no kids around.

2011-03-29T19:40:00.002-04:00

In case you're the slightest bit curious as to how my day actually went, I slapped myself in the face a few times to make sure I wasn't dreaming, then I vacuumed, steam mopped, did two loads of laundry, Skyped with a friend who showed me some Photoshop tricks and her cute cute kids, chatted with my brother, cleaned two bathrooms, watched a DVR'd show all the way through, went for a run, designed some stationery, shopped online, took a shower, and prepped dinner. I felt so competent. I reminded my husband how productive I can be when I can get it all done in one fell swoop (I've tried to explain to him that cleaning a house or doing absolutely anything that requires more than a solid 10-minute span of time with the kids in the house is a lot like typing a paper only to have someone over your shoulder hitting the backspace key as you're typing) and suggested we keep this gesture in regular rotation. Plus I enjoy them (all) so much more when they go away and come back.

“Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the sidewalk before it stops snowing.” - Phyllis Diller

Peace and Quiet

2011-03-26T11:10:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning to a freakishly quiet house. I rolled over, looked at the clock, and half-panicked in that what day is it? where am I? kind of way when I noticed it was 10 o'clock. I honestly don't think I've slept until 10 o'clock in my entire adult life.

Downstairs, I find a note on the counter saying "We're out for the day. Enjoy the peace and quiet." Seriously, awww. I guess all that whining with my eyes closed and fingers stuck in my ears finally caught on.

That said, I find myself standing in a daze. I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I know what needs to be done -- I just don't know where to start. I'm so excited that I'm trying to fit it all in. Do I clean? Organize a closet? Go for a run? Blog? Make some cards? Watch a movie all the way through? Design some stationery? Scrapbook? Call a friend and attempt to have a conversation without having to stop and say "What?? Please go away. I'll get to it in a minute. Fine, have it! Just go away for a second! I'm so sorry; as you were saying?"

So for now, I'm figuring I'll do one thing at a time and hope I really can fit it all in. I think my biggest downfall is going to be constantly watching the clock in fear of the day actually ending.

Recipe Wednesday

2011-03-23T20:42:00.005-04:00

Some time ago -- probably this time last year when I was itching to bust out of the blahs and just do something different -- I decided that I needed to amp up our dinner menu. It felt like I was rotating the same seven (okay, ~~five~~ four) dishes every week and I was becoming that boring, predictable mom I swore I'd never be who resorted to take out far more often than I'd like. So I started watching a lot of Food Network and got crazy inspired. If I saw something I liked, I looked up the recipe and went to town. Literally.

I was pleasantly surprised by how many new ideas I had and in my excitement, I decided to share them with you all. Thus, Recipe Wednesday was born. I vowed to try a new dish every Wednesday and share the love. Most were huge successes (the spaghetti & meatballs is still in regular rotation) and just a couple were nice tries. Basically, if the ingredients were funky or the prep was far too much work, I didn't even kid myself. I know y'all will appreciate that.

So after recognizing the signs of Boring Dinner Blahs recently, I decided to give Recipe Wednesday another try. I've been meaning to try making Chicken Lettuce Wraps a la P.F. Chang's for a while now and finally remembered to look it up. I found this one (I'm a big fan of copycat recipes) and gave it a go.

(I posted a list of past recipes over there to the right and will continue to archive as I switch them out. And actually, it was two years ago.) :/

I actually made this for dinner tonight and it was a HUGE hit! Even my picky kids dug it (with an enthusiastic "YUM!") I know some people are sticklers for following directions so I left the recipe here as is, but I'm an eyeballer when it comes to cooking so I switched some things up a bit.

First and foremost, the concept of mincing chicken breasts exhausts me so I used ground chicken and it was excellent. I noted the changes I made in blue, which I think will be easier than trying to explain it after the fact.

Chicken Lettuce Wraps

Ingredients

6 tablespoons oil
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts (1 lb. ground chicken)
2 cups water chestnut (one small can)
1 1/3 cups mushroom (omitted)
6 tablespoons chopped onions
2 teaspoons minced garlic
8 -10 leaves iceberg lettuce (butter lettuce, as it's more pliable and greener throughout)

Special Sauce (this makes a ton and can be easily cut in half)

1/2 cup sugar
1 cup water
4 tablespoons soy sauce
4 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
4 tablespoons ketchup
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon sesame oil
2 tablespoons hot mustard (omitted)
4 teaspoons water (omitted - it goes with the hot mustard)
2 -4 teaspoons garlic and red chile paste (just squeezed in what I thought looked good)

Stir Fry Sauce

4 tablespoons soy sauce (3 tbsp -- I ran out)
4 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon rice wine vinegar

Directions:

Prep Time: 10 mins
Total Time: 25 mins

Make the special sauce by dissolving the sugar in water in a small bowl.
Add soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, ketchup, lemon juice and sesame oil.
Mix well and refrigerate this sauce until you're ready to serve.
Combine the hot water with the hot mustard and set this aside as well. (omitted)
Eventually add your desired measurement of mustard and garlic chili sauce to the special sauce mixture to pour over the wraps.
Bring oil to high heat in a wok or large frying pan.
Saute chicken breasts for 4 to 5 minutes per side or done.
Remove chicken from the pan and cool.
Keep oil in the pan, keep hot.
As chicken cools mince water chestnuts and mushrooms to about the size of small peas.
Prepare the stir fry sauce by mixing the soy sauce, brown sugar, and rice vinegar together in a small bowl.
When chicken is cool, mince it as the mushrooms and water chestnuts are.
With the pan still on high heat, add another Tbsp of vegetable oil.
Add chicken, garlic, onions, water chestnuts and mushrooms to the pan.
Add the stir fry sauce to the pan and saute the mixture for a couple minutes then serve it in the lettuce "cups".
Top with Special Sauce.

** Since I was using ground chicken and no mushrooms, I cooked the onions and chicken together in the oil, then added the water chestnuts and garlic to the mix. I also mixed in the Stir Fry Sauce as it said, but poured the Special Sauce in a few minutes later (gradually adding; I used less than half and poured the rest in a bottle for next time) rather than using it as a topping. Once hot throughout, I poured the chicken mixture in a glass serving bowl. Because the Special Sauce was already in, it eliminated the extra step at the table and made the mixture extra saucy (which is how P. F. Chang's does it anyway.)

I took the bowl to the table along with a plate of pulled lettuce and a bowl of rice noodles topping for texture and crunch. So good!

Let me know if you try it and what you think! I think it's well worth a shot.

P.S. This will be a great appetizer for parties or anything you're required to bring a dish to. I think it might be my future go-to app.

The Confidence I Wish I Had

2011-03-18T14:41:00.000-04:00

I've always known that Ty is wise beyond his years but he still never ceases to impress me. This morning I woke up to the sound of sink water running and water bottle misting. In moments like these I brace myself for whom I will find, for it will mean two very different things. If it's Ty, it will mean brushing teeth and fixing hair. Landon will mean filling every single bathroom cup to its capacity and making aquatic artwork on the mirror. Luckily, it was Ty.

After expressing my pride in how well he takes care of things in the morning and gets the ball rolling, I notice that his attire could use some work. Sure his hair is a little funky but it's tolerable and makes him him. The clothes I worry about. It's obvious he walked into his closet blindfolded, spun around at max velocity, and just grabbed two things on the way down. I voiced my concern and asked if he wanted to change either his pants or his shirt to coordinate. His response was, "Why? My friends will still like me no matter what I'm wearing."

Green

2011-03-17T23:44:00.006-04:00

Happy St. Patty's Day!

We are a pretty lame St. Patrick's Day family. I've heard of leprechaun tricks and they seem really cute and fun but to be honest, they seem like a lot of work to recover from. Flipping chairs and rearranging food and dying everything green . . . I dunno. I thought about doing them anyway, you know, for the kids, but then remembered that Ty goes to school and kids talk, and what if the leprechauns come to his house but no one else's? Then I have explaining to do, and that might lead to Santa talks and crushing everything good in his world, and I'm just not ready for that. And besides, I'm a little OCD and eating green food that's not supposed to be green and drinking green milk just grosses me out. But! We do wear lots of green!

Hopefully their attire makes up for the LACK of green in my yard!

Ty headed off to school and Landon and I made our way to the park for our friend, Miss Leslie's big birthday bash (play date style).

I really wish Photoshop had an "automatically clean kid's face" tool because I would use the hell out of it. How is it that by the third kid I don't even realize he has food all over his face until I look back at the pictures? I also realize that he consistently looks as though he could use a haircut, but we're toying with the ultra cool, long, shaggy hair on him and it's not quite there yet. We're not even sure if it's even going to work and I'm going to be really ticked that we spent the better part of a year getting crappy "needs a haircut" pictures if it doesn't. He's also uber independent and insists on combing his hair straight over in the dorkiest fashion ever but who am I to crush his spirit? I just remind everyone in a whisper that "he did his own hair."

Looking for "campfire wood":

Michael, Landon, Liam, and Connor taking time from building the "campfire" to take a pic:

P.S. You have no idea how hard it is to stop four little boys on a serious campfire-building mission to willingly take a pic. This is golden.

Taking time to look for bugs, play in the dirt, whatever. I love these "life's little moments" kinds of pics.

Birthday cake

Buddies, Connor and Landon

The weather was SO NICE and made for a great day at the park. Kind of made me forget all about the lack of St. Patrick's Day participation . . . until Ty came home from school wondering why the leprechauns came to other people's houses and not ours.

Moral Dilemma

2011-03-16T16:07:00.001-04:00

Sunday Shea came home after walking the dog and said Sadie got into a street fight. Really? Because I have the sweetest dog ever, and I refused to believe she was fighting. Attacked, maybe. So I asked for the run down.

They were walking along when a lady and her German Shepherd-ish? mix? came walking toward them (both dogs on leashes). Noticing that the dogs were gravitating toward each other like curious dogs do, the lady asked Shea if his dog was friendly, said hers was, too, and asked if he minded if they met. The dogs approached one another excitedly and then the other dog decided to eat Sadie for lunch.

As Shea puts it, the dog put Sadie's head in his mouth, she squealed, pulled back, and the other dog growled and jumped on her. Shea pulled Sadie to rescue (all the while internally freaking out) and said the lady was clearly stunned and had no idea what to do at that moment. She apologized and everyone lived to tell the story.

About two hours later, we notice a little drop of blood on the floor and I immediately thought it must be Sadie. We had checked her head but didn't think to check anywhere else. I look her over and notice blood on her back. I investigate, we take her to the emergency vet, and find this:

Holy mother! I didn't know if I wanted to cry or vomit. I felt so bad for her. She had been so good, as she always is, and we had no idea how badly she was hurt. We were dealing with the shock of what happened, the heartache of knowing she was in so much pain, and the unexpected whop of a vet bill. And herein lies my moral dilemma.

Jeff immediately said we need to track the lady down and make her pay. While I'm not completely against that idea, I do feel really bad "tracking" someone down knowing we're going to slap her with accusations and a bill. I put myself in her shoes. I'm sure she thought she has the sweetest dog ever who would never do such a thing -- Shea said she truly looked shocked and helpless -- and probably feels bad enough as it is without knowing that someone is talking to the neighbors about how her evil dog mauled our sweet girl and is scouring the neighborhood for her.

We obviously don't know who she is or where she lives, so Jeff and Shea are going out a couple times a day hunting her, hoping she'll be out walking her dog. I emphasize each time how they need to be nice, don't attack, wait to see if she offers to pay before demanding, etc. I just hate unnecessary confrontation, especially when it stems from an honest accident. On the other hand, I definitely think she needs to know of the damage her dog did, if for no other reason than to be made aware that regardless of how harmless she thinks he is, he obviously can do some damage! God forbid it happen again to a small-dog-turned-rag-doll or a small child asking to pet him.

In the meantime, we're watching our sweet girl get better by the day. She was so pitiful the first couple of days but has been on painkillers and lots of love. Yesterday she saw a squirrel and darted full force, a good sign that the butt's getting better.

Weekend Recap

2011-03-14T00:42:00.002-04:00

The weekend was a busy one (as opposed to?) Friday was Landon's Music Performance and Art Exhibit at preschool.

I took 61 pictures but these I thought were classic. The hands on the face? I want to eat him. And painting with a waffle I think is pretty genius. Anytime you can mix art and food, I'm in.

Friday night started with a wild and crazy game of neighborhood Bunco. While waiting at my neighbor, Bonnie's to walk over together, she got a call from her friend asking if we wanted to meet up for some drinks later.

Bonnie: "Oh, well we have Bunco tonight. We won't be home until like, 10 or so."
Friend: "Um, well we weren't planning to leave until 11 or so."
Me: "I'm old."

So we went to Bunco, had a freaking blast (not really) and decided afterward that hey, we're all dressed up, apparently according to people cooler than us it's still early, and our husbands were watching basketball AND volunteering to watch the kids -- we should definitely go out. I told her I wanted to get my groove on and she told me of a place she'd been to once in the teeny little town of Occoquan that she referred to as a dance club.

Okay. This is Occoquan:

I made sure she understood.

"There's a dance club. In Occoquan?"
"Yeah!"
"Like, real dancing. Not square dancing?"
"Yes, real dancing."
"Okay . . ."

I figured I'd give it a shot. I thought about dressing down a bit since my Bunco duds were a tad flashy, with my cowl neck sweater and big shiny earrings. I had even pulled my hair into a cute slick pony tail to sass it up a bit and I thought I might be too much for the five old men in loosened ties sipping on their scotches to handle. But it sounded like a lot of work to change and besides, I looked pretty and for once, put together.

So we hop in the car and drive the 15 minutes or so to "the club". We turn onto the street to find a guy in a black Security jacket and a beanie stopping us in our tracks.

Me: Don't stop! What are you stopping for?
Bonnie: I think he's going to tell us where to park.
Me: Uh. I'm pretty sure he's going to tell us to get the fuck out of the car and then drive off in it.
Bonnie: Calm down. I'm rolling down the window. Hi!
Me: Are you telling us where to park? Or no?
Him: I'm trying to . . .
Bonnie: She thinks you're going to drag us out of the car and steal it.
Him: Haha. I could see where you'd think that, with the black clothes and all.
Me: And standing in the middle of the street. And the flashlight. And the fingerprintless gloves.
Him: Okay . . . Well, park over there.

In the meantime, we pass what I'm pretty sure are two rappers and two prostitutes respectively, walking toward the direction we're headed. I ask her if she's sure this is the place and she says yes, reminding me she's only been there once.

We walk in and I can only describe it as walking into a Dr. Dre video. Now I'm no stranger to some good booty music and I've been known to bob to a rap beat or two, but what was laid upon my ears that night was straight up, no holds barred, sheer Gangsta Rap. I assessed the situation and realized that the only way I was going to be able to tolerate this was obviously to head straight to the bar.

I love to people watch and there was lots to be seen. Oh how I wish I'd thought to use my camera phone but I think between my eyeballs burning and the sheer state of shock, I could only watch. In a nutshell, there was a lot of this:

and this:

Clearly I could have stood to lose a layer. Not only did I not dress the part, I pretty much looked like a first grade teacher. At one point in the night, Bonnie told me to look over, as if I knew where to look -- there was cleavage and grinding everywhere! (In her defense, she had never been there after 11:00.) But she clarified and lo and behold, there was a guy straight out of Jersey Shore leaning up against the wall, a girl with her back to him grinding her behind up on him, eyes half closed drifting toward comatose, and her pants were around her thighs! He had literally shimmied her pants far enough down so her ass was completely exposed to him and she didn't care. Most of me was appalled (is that old or classy?) but part of me wanted to walk over, slap his hands off of her, bend them into a triple French knot, and drive her home. Girl, get a hold of yourself!

I can say though that despite the roughness that place portrayed, everyone was really very nice and kept to themselves. There was no drama, no whale eyes, no threatening vibes. Unfortunately, there was also no good music or anyone offering to buy us drinks so we gave it a fair shot and then decided to call it a night. I clearly underestimated the potential that is Occoquan nightlife, but decided to keep it to daytime brunch and antiques shopping for me.

Saturday was a birthday party for one kid, a play date for the other, and Vegas night at our friends' house. We dropped the kids off at PNO at the gym (a.k.a. The greatest idea in the history of the world) and moseyed on over with our fresh, handmade desserts from the grocery store bakery, ready to get our gamble on.

We sat at the Blackjack table with our roll of pennies and placed our bets. Now, normally I steer clear of Blackjack because it takes me too long to count unless I use my fingers, but it only took about two rounds to figure out that our "dealer" was very lenient (and by lenient, I mean chose not to count your cards if there were too many, or decided that dealer hits on 21.) It was all in good fun and in the end, we all pooled our money in together and shared it so everyone was a winner (ha! I originally typed "sinner". I guess my sub-conscience thinks gambling is very BAD!) Picked the kids up and were home by 11:00. Not exactly a night in Vegas, but at this stage it's all we can handle.

Today I woke up to the confusion that was one clock being 8:00 and another being 9:00, putting me into a half-asleep freaky lateral world thing, until I realized it was damn daylight savings. It threw me off for the entire day . . . breakfast was lunch, lunch was bypassed, and bedtime was still daylight, which always ticks my kids off. Nothing like planning to put them to bed early and not being able to lie about it.

Bye Bye, Three

2011-03-07T23:43:00.000-05:00

Thursday was my baby's 4th birthday. I use the term baby in every sense of the word. I love him. He is the youngest. And he will always be The Baby.

I've heard stories of the youngest child always getting away with everything, and I always assumed it's just because by the time the last kid comes around, Mom is beat! I can't say that I'm always completely together when it comes time to follow through with him, but as far as babying him goes, it's not that. I really think, without even trying, that my brain just sees him as a perpetual two-year-old (which will also explain his lack of letter recognition and ability to properly wipe himself.) It's weird for me to look back at when he was born and realize that Ty was just turning three himself, and yet he just seemed so much older to me then than Landon does now. He was a big brother, and Landon at four is still, well -- the baby.

I realize I'm not nurturing his independence by coddling his toddlerhood and by grasping onto every second of baby that's in him, but I just can't help it. At this point in my mothering career, I am fully aware of how quickly time passes, of how easy it is to let those sweet, seemingly insignificant childhood moments pass me by without taking the time to embrace them, how chubby cheeks and pudgy hands are thinned out by time, and how almost overnight their sweet voices and cute, mispronounced words become so correct. I've learned to stop what I'm doing to read a book, to let them help me even if it means making a mess, to take walks around the block for no other reason than to see how many kinds of rocks we can find. I've learned to be patient, to use kinder words, and make our moments count. I really do wish I could keep them like this forever.

(Frickity frack! I'm seriously about to cry.)

BIRTHDAY PARTY! So Saturday we had a party here at the house to celebrate. It was a quaint backyard bash with jumping,

(Yes, I'm fully aware of the capacity. We kinda used it as a cool playpen.)

and swinging,

friends,

and of course, cake!

Even brothers were allowed to come. :)

I'm a fan of traditional birthday parties so there wasn't a theme other than just being kids, being with our friends, and playing. The weather was nice to us (could have been a tad sunnier, but I'll take 60 degrees graciously) so ~~no one was destroying my house~~ we were all able to be outside. The kids had chalk and bubbles; parents had music and beer. Everyone was fine.

In keeping with the play theme, I made up these little treats for the kids to take home

which are just little buckets from the dollar bin at Target stuffed with fun things to do outside (bubbles, chalk, paddle balls, etc.) and some healthy(er) snacks should they get exhausted by all the paddle balling and bubble blowing. Should have totally lasted them at least six minutes or so outside.

All in all, it was a pretty neat day and I don't think I could have smooched that boy enough.

Happy Birthday, sweet little Landon!

Reality

2011-03-02T07:54:00.001-05:00

Landon and I met a friend for her birthday lunch yesterday and then walked over to the grocery store in the same shopping center. While walking over, we pass the Gymboree that is screaming at me with its 70% off sign, so we detour inside.

It took me about 12 seconds to realize once again that the boys stuff is crap, but this time they had the infant girls stuff a tad too close to the boys side, so I played virtual baby doll with the air and put together outfits with matching (but not too matching) accessories. Damn, having a girl would be fun. I admit it, I want a girl for all the wrong reasons. And of course because I want to play dress up, she'd be a tomboy and only want to wear jean shorts.

Later, while cleaning up after dinner, I was explaining to Jeff how much fun I had at Gymboree when I clearly had no business being on the girls side, daydreaming about having a sweet little daughter whom I could shower with flowers and frills, when from a distance I hear Ty running in belting "Mom. Mom. You have to believe this! I was just farting so hard and I couldn't help it! I was farting SO HARD that I couldn't tell if I had diarrhea'd in my pants or not!"

Edited to add: Just before leaving for school this morning, he put on his backpack and then giggled, "Whoa! I just threw up in my mouth and swallowed it!" Seriously, just one girl would have been nice.

Just like Starbucks

2011-02-28T16:21:00.000-05:00

Anyone else find it annoying to go into a coffee shop or to grab a smoothie or pick up dry cleaning to find a tip jar staring you in the face? I waited tables for many many many years in my younger, more tip-worthy days so I'm all about tipping properly for a service, but when I'm paying $4.00 for a cup of coffee and your job is simply to make that cup of coffee -- I am tipping why? Unless it is uber busy and I ask for something off-the-wall crazy and you do it efficiently and with a smile do I feel the need to tip on top of paying. Otherwise, you're just guilting me into it and making me feel like a jerk for putting my change back into my wallet instead of dropping it in your jar.

Anyway.

Apparently my kid thinks his existence is worth an extra dollar or two.

I found this sitting on my countertop the other day, you know, in case I feel the need to drop all the extra money I have falling out of my pockets and weighing down my purse.

Lessons Learned

2011-02-26T15:55:00.000-05:00

Based on experiences I've had in just the past couple of weeks, these are some lessons I've learned.

* * *

(Little boy next door comes over to play)
Ty: I can't play. We're about to leave.
Boy: Where are you going?
Ty: My dad says we have to get out of the house because my mom's having a bad mood.

And then they all left.

Lesson: Start faking bad moods.

* * *

While taking a walk alone with my dog, I pass a team of ~~illegal~~ ~~Mexican~~ community landscapers. I smile and say "Hello", despite momentarily being trapped between their work truck and an uncomfortably wooded area and completely outnumbered, and keep walking, figuring I have my big dog with me and who will mess with that? Moments later they crawl by hanging out of the back of their work truck, hollering "Wooo! Yeah, baby! Mamacita!" reciprocated by me saying "WTF. Really???" with my face.

Lesson: My big fat black Lab with her tongue hanging out of her mouth being dragged behind me is apparently not intimidating (and tomorrow I'm taking a different path.)

* * *
I struggle in pilates. I have the core strength of a noodle and zero balance. Almost always I'm facing the wrong direction from the rest of the class. Making "perfect circles" in the air with my toes, if put onto paper, would look like they were drawn by an 18-month-old.

Lesson: I basically suck at pilates. I should probably push it up to more than once a week.

* * *

I have an existing situation that requires surgery. When I called my doctor to make an appointment, I was scheduled for three weeks out. I went to that appointment and within 10 minutes of walking in the door was told I'd be referred to another clinic for a consultation.

Lesson: Sometimes you have to make an appointment to make an appointment.

Lists

2011-02-25T06:57:00.001-05:00

First off, I want to say "Thank you!" for all of support y'all gave for the last post. I was blown away with how well it was received. You guys are the best!

Okay on to the post.

Coincidentally, Ty and Landon each had lists to make at their respective schools in the past couple of weeks. I'm going to put it out there that I absolutely love love love love love asking kids random questions and getting their fantastically naive responses. It's not only interesting to see how creative they are, but it's pretty darn telling. If you want to know what you're truly like, ask a kid.

Ty's 100th Day of School List:

I wish I had 100 toys. (Um, you do. What you meant to say is that you wish you had 100 toys that are not your own, since those are the only ones you want to play with.)
I would never want 100 babys. (Glad we're on the same page.)
I can eat 100 peas. (Liar! You don't even eat two peas.)
I could never eat 100 candy canes. (I think he got the last two mixed up.)
I can make 100 candy peas. (? I think he was spent by this one and just combined the last two.)
I can lift 100 dollers.
Having 100 rats could really be a problem. (Agreed.)
If I had $100, I would buy (and I guess he ran out of time because that was it, folks. Maybe he was just thinking of all the millions of things he could buy with $100 that he couldn't narrow it down.)

Landon had Daddy Night at preschool and in preparation, they were given a survey on their dads that they could proudly display once they arrived for the festivities. Dad must've been so proud.

My daddy's favorite job is working on papers. (Is it obvious that we're at a school assignment?)
My daddy's favorite thing to do with me is play football.
When my daddy has playtime he likes to sit on the couch. (Nice.)
My daddy is this old: Five
My daddy is as tall as part way to the ceiling.
I love my daddy because he is nice.

Words of Encouragement

2011-02-23T15:28:00.002-05:00

Not for you -- for me!

After my gigantic post the other day, and feeling so inspired to blog more, and then realizing yesterday that I should probably write about something but not really feeling up to it, I started to analyze why. I really like writing, so that's not it. I have shit to write about, so that's not it. Then I realized that I'm a little baby when it comes to needing validation and that what I really want is comments.

I'm pretty sure I'm not alone when it comes to this kind of thing. Everyone likes feedback, am I right? I've actually done some searching and found that lack of comments is a pretty big downer for a lot of blog authors and the reason many of them are no longer active. So, tacky as it may be, I'll take this opportunity to put my neck out there for the sake of (probably) all bloggers and explain what it really feels like to not get comments. Dropping my big girl panties now.

Okay, first off, I'm sure most readers don't understand the importance of comments. When I post something and someone comments, I feel validated -- like the time I took to write it all out so that others can find some entertainment or joy (or basically just entertainment) was worth it. There are several posts that have zero comments and I start to wonder why I even bother. To be honest, it's kind of embarrassing. Nothing says "Wow! What a good read!" like 0 comments.

The thing is, I know people are reading, and I am so grateful for that. I hear here and there of people telling me that they read my blog (plus I can see it in my stats), and I hear great words of encouragement which keep me motivated. But without comments I don't know if the readers I get are enjoying my writing or if it's kind of like a train wreck and they just can't walk away. I don't know if they're telling their friends to read because it's amusing in a good way, or they can't believe the kind of crap I write about.

Basically, I get discouraged. I don't want to sound needy, but I certainly don't feel motivated to keep it up if I get no feedback. It's kind of like waiting tables. ~~Most~~ people wait tables for the tips. If a server does well, he expects a good tip. If he goes through the work of waiting on a table, expecting a good (or even decent) tip, and gets stiffed (or only 5%) on almost every table he waits on, he's going to get discouraged and quit. Who wants to wait tables just for the sake of something to do when he can spend his time doing something else that will be more gratifying? And really, does anyone post a status update on Facebook and not expect anyone to comment? That's why we update: So people will tell us how funny/cute/awesome we are or how sorry/excited/proud they feel for us. It's social narcissism and it's all the rage.

So, how can you become a better commenter?

Just say something. I've come across blog posts I like and when I go to comment, realize I have nothing of importance to add to the conversation. That's when "So cute!" or "Love it!" are sufficient. Who cares if you don't have something witty to say or an experience to share? Just show some love!

Embrace unfamiliar. I get it: The concept of commenting on a stranger's stories is intimidating to say the least. Who wants to be "the weird person you don't know who just happens to stalk your blog", right? Trust me when I say. . . I LOVE stranger comments! I know my real-life friends like me; it's nice to know other people do, too.

Don't be a bully. No one likes getting comments from haters. Unless the blog is strictly designed to be controversial, please keep your meanness to yourself. I don't write to ignite fire and I don't invite negativity. If I have an opinion on something controversial, I will discuss it but always try to keep it fair and mature. I totally welcome opposing opinions (I love a good debate!) but anything meant to be hateful or rude offers nothing and is just plain mean. Mean commenters will herein be referred to as bullies, just like in 1st grade.

Be brave. So you've never commented on a blog before. So what? There's a first time for everything. Just hit "comment" and type "Great Post." Afraid of being the first comment? What usually happens when one kid pipes up and asks the teacher a question? It opens the door and others follow suit. Lead by example. Be a brave commenter! :)

So if you like something I've written or can relate to one of my stories, let me know. There is not a single comment -- friend, family, or complete stranger -- that isn't welcomed and appreciated. And if anyone is scared to comment for fear of looking like a moron or something, please. Like I'm one to judge.

Edited to add: This post sat in draft mode for a while because I was hesitant to post it. I don't want to sound demanding or narcissistic for wanting reassurance. However, during pilates this morning, the instructor asked the silent class why we weren't responding to anything and said to us, "I just like feedback!" as if she were directly prompting me to go ahead and hit "publish". Regardless of whether we come right out and ask for it or not, I'm pretty sure it's human nature to want to interaction, feedback, and props for whatever it is we're doing right, and it's not just me being a brat.

Date Night

2011-02-20T21:02:00.000-05:00

Anyone seen the movie "Date Night", with Steve Carell and Tina Fey? Hilarious. Like, "The Hangover" hilarious. If you haven't see it, I promise I won't ruin it for you. If you have, you know how the whole premise of the movie is that a normal 'ole date night goes bad? That's kind of how ours was last night, except in a whole 'nother "bad" spectrum: Pathetic.

Our gym has this amazing set-up where the child care has Parents Night Out almost every weekend for way less than we'd pay a sitter. So we signed the kids up for a date night and had five hours all to ourselves! We went to dinner and both declined the idea of having drinks since we're watching our calories. I sat on my phone for 2/3 of the dinner, dissecting everything we were eating with my nerdy Calorie Counter app, and he looked up movies that we wouldn't make it in time to see anyhow. When we were finished with dinner, we still had three and a half hours left to blow.

So we went to the craft store.

I walked around forcing myself to find something to buy since I had a 50% off coupon that expired that day while he followed me. Then we still had three more hours.

We thought about going to a bar but he had to drive, and then the calorie thing, so we decided to get ice cream. We shared a fat free Gotta Love It at Cold Stone, and I'd just like to say that I wasn't a fan (of fat free or sharing ice cream). Then we still had two hours.

Jeff mentioned the book store but we weren't sure if it was open so we drove over and pulled up to the door to see what time it closed. Upon discovering that it was still open for another hour, we both exclaimed "Yes!" and then asked ourselves when we became such boring losers.

We browsed the books until they closed and with an hour still left of our free night out, mutually decided that this was mentally exhausting and we should just pick the kids up already. We drove home and were in bed before PNO even ended.

While lying in bed, I did the math (why end the nerdiness now?) and came to the conclusion that getting a good deal on five hours of babysitting really isn't a good deal at all if we're only using two hours of it. It's kind of like forcing myself to buy something I don't want just because I have a 50% off coupon. Sounds good in theory, but really notsomuch.

The Extended Version

2011-02-17T08:22:00.004-05:00

Hi. Remember me?

So, I've been feeling reeeeally guilty lately about all the goings-on that have gone on, but that I've failed to mention here. Does it help if I suggest that because I've been so busy, it's made it nearly impossible to sit down and type it all out? No? Well alrighty then.

What I really hate is when I come across a picture or jotted-down note about something that happened after the moment has long passed and think "Doh! I should've blogged about that. Too late now, I guess." Except now to make myself feel better and caught up, I'm going to just do a rewind of all the things I wanted to blog about but didn't, and beg you all to just please bear with me.

So grab a cup of coffee, or a glass of wine if it's after 10am, and prepare for a long one. I present our goings-on, seven MONTHS in the making. (I've never labeled myself On Top of Things.)

July:
We moved to the other side of the country. Fortunately, I blogged a little about that already. Once we got here (and were homeless) we shacked up with some dear friends and played social catch-up. The kids went to VBS, we celebrated TWO birthdays in one

met up with some of our favorite people from Okinawa

and we mommies went to a posh little party in DC for the Real Housewives of DC premiere.

Dat's right, White House Party Crashers! ROFL!

This picture was a total joke. At first the wife was off being chit-chatty and he reFUSED to take a picture with us without her. While he was summoning her over, the three martinis in me screeched to him, "Oh, don't act like you aren't dreaming of getting in this pic with two hot girls!"

August:
We moved to our new home-for-now, celebrated a sweet promotion

(We each got a color: I was brown, Shea was white, Ty was blue, and Landon was red. LOL!)

and within two days had two trips to the ER for stitches.

Landon was getting a bath and slipped when he went to prop himself up with his arms to get out. It was one of those moments that you swear are in slow motion, where you see it all happening but for the life of you just can't get to it in time. He landed on the side of the tub with his chin. My stomach turns just remembering it.

Despite screaming bloody murder (ha! I originally typed "bloggy murder". Guess you can tell where my mind's been.) when it happened, Jeff said he was amazingly calm for the glue first (which was peeled apart by the time he got home) and for the stitches. He didn't cry when they injected the shot, nor did he cry when they threaded the stitches. The nurse actually wanted to get him tested for a nerve disorder; she said "Um, that's not normal." It is for my badass kids, lady. What.

September:
School started (that I already blogged about - sweet!) as well as soccer.

Shea ran cross-country and surprised us all with how fast he can run. I sure wish he could pass that gene up.

October:
Halloween, a pumpkin patch, and Ty's first Fun Run.

"All . . the . . . hard . . WORK!!!"

The pumpkin patch was less a pumpkin patch and more a petting zoo carnival where you got to take home a mini pumpkin in the end.

Not at all creepy, right? :/

There were tons of goats.

I mean, tons.

I loved how Landon had absolutely no reserve when it came to engaging the animals; he just plopped right down with them.

Jeff thought it was huhlarious that I had to go into a porta-potty sober and thought enough to take a picture of it. Evil. Just for the record . . . LOATHE portable potties.

Landon waited in a ridiculously long line for his face painting. He knew he wanted a spider and he couldn't wait. Giddiness welled up inside him as his turn grew nearer and nearer. When it was finally his turn and the lady asked what he wanted, he shyly spoke "A fider."

Her: A fire truck?
Him:   No, a fffffffider!
Her:   A fighter?? Errrr . . .
Me:   A spider. He says his blended S's like F's. It's really kinda . . . anyway. A spider.

November:
November brought my very first real autumn

and with the beauty came a wicked amount of leaves. It's fun for all of about 20 minutes, then it has to be raked up. Or if you have a teenage boy living with you, you can allow him the privilege of blowing them with the leaf blower, to which he'll accept and then sit in the first pile of leaves he's compiled and forget to do the rest of the yard. Darn ADD.

Soccer ended and we had trophy parties. Landon's was at Chuck E. Cheese and man is that fun with fifteen 3-year-olds on a weekend.

He tried his hand at Skee-ball and to me, handing a rock-hard ball to a boy with no sense of refrain who also happens to be amped up on fruit punch and cupcakes is like asking for him to just kick you in the face.

He really loved the football game and I was actually quite impressed at how well he could throw. He searched for the laces for a proper grip,

reached back,

and let 'er go. He even had the wrist flick.

Do you see where that ball almost made it in? In the 50. Not bad for a three-year-old (or most 30-year-olds).

Then it was Ty's turn. He got to party at the more sophisticated Cici's Pizza being six and all.

No games or dancing puppets, but there was cake.

Then it was Thanksgiving. We couldn't get home to visit family because some genius at Jeff's school decided to start new classes the week before. He had class until 2pm that Wednesday (brilliant, right?) so we hunkered down and hosted Thanksgiving at our house.

I found this beautiful aromatic brine online and it turned out pretty awesome. I kinda wanted to keep it as a decoration.

My bestie and our other wife, Susan

Don't hate on the plastic cups.

We also got to puppysit this little guy for a few days:

Sweet and 100% adorable and just what I needed to remind me that I do not want a puppy or another baby. Nothing but cuteness most of the time, but housebreaking and crying and keeping all of my good stuff constantly out of reach is a nice wake-up call.

December:
December brought gingerbread men,

warm cozy fires,

hot cocoa,

snow days,

Christmas parties,

chocolate martinis,

Santa,

and all the sweetness of the holidays. Unfortunately, it also brought Strep Throat, Fifths Disease, sinus infection, and a bronchitis-like cough.

Once all that was clear, we finally got to go down to see our families, and as if seeing just about every one we know who lives in that area wasn't enough, we were in the tiny little Birmingham airport waiting for our ride when I saw a familiar face. Our friends from Vegas, Jack and Natalie, were walking through with their three boys and we were quite literally 10 of about 25 people in that airport. What a wild and NEAT surprise. I seriously think we were almost too shocked to have a conversation for the first three minutes or so, but we managed. :)

Visiting with everyone was so nice but after a very busy month, it was nice to get back home to finally begin to unwind. Of course at the time I didn't expect for us to ever see green land again until we were plummeting into it at 50 billion miles per hour with the sucky turbulence we had the whole flight back. I was honestly expecting us to fall right out of the sky. I have never wanted to throw up on a plane until that flight. Cry, yes. But never physically vomit. It also didn't help that the couple in front of me sitting on opposite sides of the aisle were having a quaint conversation when he decided to pick something out of her nose for her. She didn't even hesitate, as he must do that often. I didn't know if I should have been more grossed out or awestruck that they have that kind of love.

January:
Is birthday month in our house. Ty turned 7 so we had a little party for him here at the house.

I swear I think my kid thinks he's going to be a rapper when he grows up.

Then we let him pick wherever he wanted to go for dinner. Every year on the day of their birthday, we take each kid out for dinner and they get to choose, no questions asked, no complaints. Ty's choice was The Melting Pot.

Ten days later was Shea's 15th birthday (okay, that's still not very easy to swallow.) Since he's not much into birthday parties anymore, Jeff took him and a friend snowboarding a couple hours away.

For his birthday dinner he chose Outback

(Yeah . . . that's the only pic he allowed me to get. No retakes.)

and then we came back for a very adultish red velvet birthday cake.

We had more snow days, Spirit Week, ice days, and other reasons to cancel school, but I mentioned all those very recently and this linking biz is a lot of work.

February:
Super Bowl with some fun friends topped off with a full night of puking. Not the beer-induced adult puking we barely remember, but the 24-hour stomach bug on a three-year-old that was all too familiar just 72-hours earlier with the middle child. Bleach was my friend.

That brings us to this past week, which was Valentine's Day fun. The Saturday night prior we double-dated with our friends, Marin and Paul (although you'll always be Buster to us!) for some much-needed grown-up time.


I swear our shirts do not match. I swear. His is burgundy. Bad lighting!

For Valentine's, I have a tradition that started out with getting the kids V-day books, but as Shea's getting older and Valentine's books are harder to get, I just expanded it to something to read. So Valentine's morning, I had everything set out for my boys:

Everyone got a book or magazine, a little bit of candy, and a handmade card, even the hubs. Feeling guilty, he went ahead and brought in my lone card, and while I was adding it to the collection on the counter

I turned around to find this:

I literally squawked "Ohmygod. OhmyGOD!" I mean, sure I'd been hinting around that I wanted one, but I didn't expect to get it for Valentine's Day! I was hoping he'd just let me buy one ~~eventually~~ in the next month or so. I seriously had no idea and it was a genuine surprise. Man, I love those.

Hours later, the big kids went off to school, Dad went to work, and that left Landon and me to enjoy the above-freezing weather for once. We busted out the bubbles and I just sat and watched him giggle and watch in awe and just be three.

* * * THE END * * *

Okay, that hurt. I'm pretty sure I just typed out the mother of all blog posts. Really though, I think I've convinced myself that from here on out, a teensy little blog post with a few pictures every other day or so cannot be that bad, right? Color me inspired. (Just give me a day or so to recoup since I see a blogging hangover in my very near future.)

Snow Days

2011-01-28T19:35:00.002-05:00

Well, Spirit Week has taken a backseat to "Torrential" Snow Week. Three days in a row now school has been canceled due to the weather and while I'm a little miffed that I had things to do and really needed them to go away, I'm kind of enjoying the boys at home. It's nice to get up, not be rushed, and just chill. Of course I rethink that the minute one of them squeals "MOMMMMMM!" and will be more than ready for some routine come Monday, but mostly I'm liking them around.

As for Spirit Half-Week, I'm sad to say that I did not take a picture of 80's day to show you, but Nerd Day was just too good to pass up:

Crazy Hair Day, Pajama Day, and Red Carpet Day were sadly all nixed due to the Snow Days. Crazy Hair was nothing to get excited over since Ty has some pretty funky hair every day, but man was he looking forward to Pajama Day. When he found out it was canceled, he asked so desperately if he could still have Pajama Day at home, and being the dear mother I am, I not only said yes, but warmed his heart by telling him that we'd all celebrate Pajama Day. I know.

Today we took advantage of the "perfect snowball snow" and spent the day playing. We went sledding in the front yard (for 10 months out of the year I curse the horrid unevenness of our yard, but man is it perfect for sledding), made snow angels:

and built our first snowman:

Cute, eh?

To top it off, we get to come inside, kick off our boots, and celebrate Jammie Day all over again.

Life is pretty good.

Spirit Week

2011-01-24T19:13:00.000-05:00

So for the record, the day dedicated to me was, in fact, 80's day. WTF. What do kids know about the 80's anyway? He's so wrong.

Anyway, I discovered while dressing him that Boy 80's isn't nearly as much fun as Girl 80's. Gigantic earrings, bird nest bangs, leg warmers, pink and blue makeup . . . I could go on and on. But when it came time to dress him I was stuck. What the hell *did* boys wear?

I googled it, but everything was very hair band or acid wash. Fortunately acid wash is nearly impossible to find.

I decided to forgo the Boy George look, and the rat tail was obviously not doable (but seriously how funny would that have been to have a clip-on rat tail? First prize for sure.) and instead did the late-80's middle school look: Bright, neon-ish polo with popped collar, tucked in with a belt and tight-rolled jeans. I was quite surprised how easily tight rolling came back to me. We topped it off with totally radical, perfectly spiked hair.

He was pleased, and I was shocked at how much 80's day really looks like Nerd Day and Crazy Hair Day combined.

Just Like Me?

2011-01-21T06:59:00.003-05:00

Ty came home with a flier (flyer?) yesterday stating that next week is Spirit Week at school. He excitedly said "I get to dress like you, Mom!!!"

Okay let's see here. There's 80's Day, and I'm pretty sure I dropped that look like a bad habit the second the 90's hit. It certainly can't be Red Carpet Day. That leaves Nerd Day, Crazy Hair Day and PJs & Teddy Bear Day. I'm going to go ahead and assume for my own self-esteem that it's PJs Day, and even that isn't very encouraging.

He's got my back.

2011-01-11T17:38:00.000-05:00

With as much crap as I give my husband for basically being a man, I clearly don't give him enough credit for the little things. Like, it's forecasted to snow today, and I discovered that before going to work he salted only my side of the uphill driveway so this Florida girl doesn't fly down into the yard across the street.

Seriously, it's the little things.

Quick Catch Up

2011-01-05T07:33:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year, everybody! My resolution is to lose 20 pounds. Just kidding. Ten. Just kidding again. (kinda)

Okay, seriously where have I been? Oh I know: Driving, baking, making teacher gifts, driving, dr appts, home with sick kids, snow days, driving, throwing Christmas parties, driving. We also managed to sneak in a trip down to Alabama for a few days to visit every single person we know. Really, in five days we visited with two aunts, three cousins and their families on Jeff's side, mom, dad, brother and their families on my side, one of my best friends in Birmingham, some good friends of ours in Montgomery, and some more good friends in Niceville, FL. I'm pretty sure we would've seen more had they been in town at the time. We were some visiting fools.

Now we're back and into the swing of the things. Kids are in school, the Christmas decorations will hopefully come down by summer, and The Bachelor is back on. Life is good.

'Tis the season

2010-12-16T09:37:00.004-05:00

With Christmas approaching much more rapidly than I'm properly prepared for, I've been scurrying like a panicked chicken trying to get everything taken care of. Why I wait until December to do two months worth of stuff by the end of the end of December is beyond me.

I don't know why I insist every year on doing more than I need to. Do I need to spend the better part of a week dreaming up the perfect teacher gift for all four of my son's teachers? Probably not, but I do feel the psychotic need for their gifts to be better than every other kid's. Do I need to bake dessert tins with three different goodies, one of which being the most finicky, god-awful process of candy-making for each of my neighbors? They may think so, but I think they'll like us just the same if not. Do I need to extend the dessert tins to the postman, the garbage men, and both recycle men? No way, but I like for them to know they're appreciated (and hope they'll be just as nice to me the next time I run out urging for them to wait as I drag my garbage can down to the street in my pajamas.)

I've also decided to have a little holiday shin dig at my house this weekend, complete with chocolate martinis and fondue. Of course, I mentioned that it will be casual so that means I will NOT feel the need to clean my house spotless, even the parts no one will see. I also will not decorate every single room -- even and especially the bathroom -- like the Pottery Barn Christmas catalog, even if that means visiting 12 stores to find bay leaf garland and purchasing a trunk load of real poinsettias that will die in a week. And I certainly will not force my husband on his days off to disguise the outside of our home as a 1 million-watt gingerbread house or make anything that will take one day to cook and three days to shop for.

The boys' shopping is finally close to being done but until last week was nowhere even close. I've made more trips to Toys R Us than I ever care to make again in my entire life but they have this thing they do where they put new sales up each day and then send me an email letting me know that everything on my kid's list will be on sale on different days. I go quite out of my way to not pay full price.

Actually I'm pretty sure all but two things so far have not been ridiculously marked down. Like Kung Zhu pets (Which are for boys, not to be confused with Zhu Zhu Pets, which are the exact same things for girls) marked from $10 to $3. Transformers were Buy One Get One. We even got their "big" gift (a trampoline with enclosure) for $100 off on Black Friday and didn't even have to bust any noses to get it. While I love a good deal, Momma will not stand in line for two hours in the middle of the night freezing my butt off to save a few bucks. I like sleep; I like not being cold; and I like not looking like a 12-year-old waiting for a Justin Bieber show. Lucky for us, it was still there at 1pm (which now that I think about it, it's supposed to be snowing on Christmas, and somebody's got to put that thing together in the middle of the night. Outside. In the dark. Ew. I guess that's probably why nobody was bum-rushing the outdoor equipment.)

Kmart was having a pretty wicked sale and The Thing that Ty wants was slashed PLUS I had a coupon for $10 off. That was a no-brainer, even though I normally make a pretty solid effort not to go there. We grabbed up The Thing and before she even scanned our coupon she read the fine print (apparently I wasn't the only one who brought in my widely advertised on every page of the internet coupon) and showed me where it was only valid in certain New Jersey stores. Of course it is. But because I'm determined, I asked her if she happened to have a coupon I could use instead and she flagged down a rewards pamphlet and ripped out a $5 coupon. No $10 off but I'll take it. I seriously don't even know why I go so out of my way when all they really want is a smart phone anyway so they can play Angry Birds 25 hours a day. Seriously, you should see them when it rings and I actually have to use it.

Costco was having a pretty neato day as well, which I love and hate because that means I'm going to spend far too much money. I should probably be worried when I have to break out the phone and check my bank account before going to the check out.

They had a sheet vendor selling Queen-sized heaven that I don't really need but couldn't pass up, the triple party Crockpot that I wanted was half the price I saw somewhere else, and they had larger-than-I'd-seen-yet poinsettias that I needed for my dream party. Score, score, and score.

However, as the days close in on me I realize I have way more to do than there are actually days in which to do it. And to round it out, I've sat at the clinic 3 times in five days, missed those five days of getting stuff done due to kids up my butt, and now have two of them on antibiotics.

I think next year I'm going cyber and starting in September.

The Mart

2010-12-13T19:50:00.002-05:00

Walmart was weird today. (I'll wait while you put on your shocked faces.)

Before I even got out of my car, I mistakenly made eye-contact with a group of grizzly men. I smiled, because I'm nice, but apparently that means you can follow me around and continue making googly eyes. Now I'm okay with people undressing me with their eyes here and there, but from three skeevy guys at once kinda creeps me out and makes me start daydreaming about which picture of me I hope my family puts on the news. I was immediately regretting that shower this morning.

After a little bit of shopping I went to the candy aisle to grab some Skittles for the kids' Christmas projects when I hear a man behind me sing "You're gonna get fat . . ."

Excuse me, turd face? I wanted to turn around and say "And you're about to get karate chopped in the throat." But I'm too nice, and I really would never do that anyway, but while I would usually be too stunned to say anything at all but "Oh, (fake chuckle) they're for my kids. But thanks for the kind unsolicited advice." I surprisingly sang back "They're not for me . . ." with a perturbed look on my face. I guess the fat jokes hit a little too close to home these days, what with just having a baby three years ago and all.

To round it all out, the bagger put all of my produce in the cold bag (which happens every. single. time. despite that the cold bag is actually a Walmart bag and no one who works there is even aware of what it's for) while cramming my ice cream into canvas bags. And there were way more people speaking African than I've ever heard combined in my entire life.

Fish Lens?

2010-12-12T23:46:00.000-05:00

I changed my desktop background today and every time I look at it, it makes me smile.

Let me start by saying this picture is not a special effect. This is my kid deciding to look straight into the lens as I'm taking his picture.

I'm pretty sure his eyes are fine, but then again, he's pretty weird sometimes so maybe this had something to do with it.

He kinda reminds me of a sea turtle.

Nice try, PBS

2010-12-08T14:05:00.001-05:00

Landon was watching Sid the Science Kid this morning (it makes me feel a little better about plopping him in front of the TV while I scrub some bathtubs) and I heard the mom on the show sing this educational song:

(sung to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat)

Blow, blow, blow the air
Gently from your lungs
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Breathing's really . . "

and left a dramatic open end for the kids to reply. I thought, "important?"

She decided to go the rhyming route and sang " . . . fun."

Yeah not where I was going with that. Now. I can let "Learning is Fun!" slide (although I have to wave the bullshit flag on that one sometimes. Rewarding, yes. Or . . . a relief.) But I'm going to have to draw the line at breathing is fun. Sorry.

Star Student

2010-12-07T16:10:00.000-05:00

Ty is the Star Student for his class this week, which really is just a way for him to feel important. Really. His teacher sent home a note that said "This honor is to let (insert name here) realize that he is a very important member of our class."

As part of his special week, he got to make an All About Me poster to present to the class. Check out the places he likes to go:

I really hope he explains that his house is in Vegas or we just might be nominated for worst parents in the world.

L'isms

2010-12-06T21:11:00.001-05:00

Me: Good night, Landon. Do not get out of this bed.
Landon: But what if I hab nighmares?
Me (feeling guiltily submissive): Well, if you have nightmares you can come get me, but that's it, okay?
Landon: Nnkay . . .
(three seconds pass as I walk away)
Landon: Mom!! Shut my door so I hab nighmares.

* * *
Sadie (beckoning to come inside): Barkbark! Woofwoof! Barkbark! *whimper*
Landon: CWAM IT, SADIE! Ugh, I hate it when her woofs!

* * *

Mom. Can I hab some gum?
No
*grumble* But my breaf is dirty!
Sorry bud. You can brush your teeth when you get home. How about that?
MOM! Daddy awways giz me gum when I need cwean breaf! Okay???

Needless to say attitude and demanding doesn't really fly on my watch.

Sweet Brothers

2010-12-02T17:14:00.001-05:00

Landon (crying): Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Wahhhhhhh!

Me to Jeff: Uh oh. That doesn't sound good.

Jeff: Hey . . . what happened?

Ty: I tackled him.

Quiet Time

2010-12-01T22:12:00.000-05:00

When I said "You don't have to take a nap, but you do have to stay upstairs and be quiet" I should have been more specific.

Thankful

2010-11-25T09:15:00.000-05:00

Just as I know I'm old by the content of my Christmas list which is less fun and more practical, my Thanksgiving blessings are beyond being thankful that I'm not grounded, or that I have a boyfriend with a car, and more so about true blessedness.

Never has the transition been more obvious than when discussing it with children.

Me: I'm thankful that I have three beautiful, healthy, smart, funny kids.
(Because I know I'm fortunate.)
What are you guys thankful for?

Ty: I'm thankful for . . . food.
(Amen.)

Landon: I'm thankful for THE PARK!
(No thinking required.)

AGH!

2010-11-21T22:50:00.003-05:00

With all my excitement for the new blog, I've been dabbling in ideas on how to make it super cute. Bad idea. All it's doing is making me realize how much I don't know about technology and how much everybody else does. I mean, is this 1995? I feel like I just got my first computer or something. There is SO MUCH stuff out there!

Like Photoshop. What? There's like one thousand things you can do on there and I just want to learn how to make a watermark for my pictures that still takes me two full days to figure out.

Change a background? Sounds easy enough, but I somehow make it difficult. And don't even get me started on HTML. How does anyone know that???

Through one search today I discovered Google Reader. Never even knew it existed. Apparently, it's crucial to a blogger's success because if some people can't get it in their Google Readers, they don't read at all. To tell you the truth, it kind of intimidates me, because I also learned that when you publish something on your blog, and then decide you probably shouldn't have posted that, and then delete it, it stays on Reader anyway. Fabulous. Lucky for me, I also discovered that I have twice as many subscribers through Google Reader (thanks, guys!) as I do directly to the blog. And I delete a lot. Definitely a bittersweet surprise.

Good thing is that when I put my mind to learning something, I will figure it out. That does not come, however, without sacrifice. I will ignore just about everything in existence during that time of dogged determination and I do not learn quickly. Or without tears.

There's just SO MUCH to learn and it's SO overwhelming. Never mind that I want to learn languages and how to sew and how to properly take photos with a good camera, but now I'm taking on web stuff that is an entity far beyond what my brain can wrap around. Most things fortunately have been dumbed down and made super user-friendly for people like me, but if I want to go anywhere beyond basic, I will lose some sleep.

And did I mention tears?

New Blog

2010-11-20T11:27:00.006-05:00

for my ~~money pit~~ ~~obsession~~ hobby:

steph hawkins designs

Autumn

2010-11-10T14:14:00.009-05:00

I love love love fall. Unfortunately, I've never lived anywhere that had one until now, but finally this is what I get in my very own front yard:

*squeal*

I'm actually surprised I haven't wrecked my car while ogling all of the colors and forcing my kids to once again look at all the pretty leaves.

Hubby's not quite as thrilled about it. Probably because of this:

And it never stops. He gets it all cleaned up, and then a breeze comes by and it starts all over again. The kids though, think it's hellafun to have it raining leaves.

Convo with Ty

2010-11-03T20:41:00.004-04:00

Mom?

Yes.

When you die . . .

Yesssss?

. . . can I have your car?

What?

Can I have your car when you die?

Um, what car?

This one. The one we're driving now.

The minivan?

Yeah.

Wellllll, first of all, hopefully we won't have this car when I die. Secondly, you probably won't want this car then. AND . . . can we just not talk about me dying?

The Next Day

2010-11-01T20:45:00.005-04:00

Happy the day after Halloween! Last night I had these guys: Batman, Superman, and a cutie teenager . . .

. . . who turned into this:

Sigh.

Apparently he's too cool for trick-or-treating (but not for the candy that he finagled from his brothers) and decided to stay home to scare little children.

We started the night off with a little bit of chili and hot dogs with the neighborhood kids . . .

. . . and took off in a Halloween sprint. Seriously, if you want to get your kids to move their asses, promise candy at the end.

One of my neighbors forewarned that we live in the "good" neighborhood, like the one people drive to so their kids can hit the motherload. She was right. Take notice of the full size candy bars and sandwich bag of goods. WTH?

And here is my son today organizing his candy into like groups, and then putting it all back into his bucket from largest to smallest. Ah, the glory of genetics.

Why I Became a Stay-at-home Mom

2010-10-29T11:31:00.011-04:00

In two days, I have scouted the town for a knight getup and handmade more treat bags than I care to ever do again (but probably will anyway).

The knight suit was for 1st grade Fairy Tale Day and involved me venturing into Costume Land just days before Halloween. Convenient since it was readily available. Notsomuch that I had to go to a party store at 7:00 at night to find it when I specifically got the kids' costumes last year after Halloween to avoid this chaotic clusterfuck.

I grabbed the first resemblance of a knight I could find and hauled butt out of there. It was just your average overpriced plastic shield and helmet, so I spruced it up with a feather to make him a fancy knight. I contemplated the feather since it would require a hot glue gun (that I don't have) but buckled under the theory that every elementary school mom should possess a hot glue gun at some point. I think it's a law or something. It turned out that the feather really made it.

The next day said kid came home with Halloween treats from a classmate and begged to do some treats of his own, since he knows I'm good like that. Remember the Valentine's treats? I conveniently have acquired the Halloween (and Christmas) versions of that cutie set and he knows it. So with one night's notice, Ty and I whipped out 30 of these little darlings.

(Okay, I lie. There was no "whipping out" whatsoever. It took me HOURS to finish those freaking treats. I actually had to send him to bed about two hours into it and finished the effing things myself. And to top it off, I'm pretty sure I consumed 17 Snickers in the process.)

Breaking the Gender Bias?

2010-10-25T22:44:00.000-04:00

Not if Dad has anything to do with it.

Jeff reassures himself regularly by quizzing the boys on girl questions and hopes emphatically that they don't know the answers.

Tonight someone mentioned "a day at the spa" (unfortunately, it wasn't me, nor was my name attached to any part of the conversation whatsoever.) Ty asks "What's a spa?"

Me: It's where people go to get massages and facials and manicures and pedicures and stuff.
Ty: What's a manicure?
Me: It's when you get your fingernails done.
Ty: Oh.
Jeff: So then what do you think a pedicure is?
Ty: When pets get their nails done?

Mr. Look on the Bright Side

2010-10-21T16:54:00.003-04:00

As part of Life Plan #Gazillion, I've spent the past couple of days perusing some organizing blogs and have gotten like, Commando motivated to get everything I own in order. I guess that's why the crushed Goldfish and gum wrappers that have been living in my car for oh, I dunno, a couple of months finally caught my attention.

As I was getting Landon into the car today, I said, "Ugh! I've got to clean this car." No sooner than we pull onto the road does my half-open water bottle tip over and drench the center console.

Me: Oh, sugar! (yeah, yeah)
Landon: Mom. What? What happened?
Me: My water spilled when I turned.
Landon: Ohhhhh. Oh, well dat part's cwean now, Mom.

Doggie woes

2010-10-16T09:08:00.001-04:00

My dog is shedding like it's her business and it's driving the Clean Freak in me absolutely batshit crazy. I know she's supposed to shed pretty badly twice a year, this being one of them, but it's been going on for two months straight and it doesn't look like there's an end in sight. I heard from a friend of a friend that moving from the desert to humidity will do it, but does it ever stop?

I've brushed her til my hand hurts. She's been groomed. She eats good food. I still have mountains of dog hair in my house and I can't keep up with it. Right now she has all-access to the house with a bed in the family room and one upstairs, where she sleeps at night, but I'm vigorously contemplating blocking her off from floors of the house to contain it to one or two floors (because really, three floors and more importantly, two staircases of vacuuming dog hair daily is a tad ridiculous.)

What do you think? Does restricting my dog from areas of the house make me a horrible dog mom? Or should I suck it up and spend an hour a day cleaning it up? And let's be real, since there are days that I don't ~~feel like~~ get around to vacuuming all three floors, should I just learn to be okay with the black mounds of floating dog hair mess? *cringe*

Cuz right now, this is how she rolls:

Fall Fun

2010-10-11T10:55:00.004-04:00

Can you tell which kid thought this was a really fun idea?

FYI

2010-10-08T14:11:00.008-04:00

Bravo only airs infomercials before 8am.

I discovered it this morning when about halfway through making breakfast I snapped out of my coma to find my little children sitting on the couch, hip-to-hip, zombied in to a program about hair care.

Most nights we watch basic channels so when the kids turn the TV on in the morning they usually find news. They've gotten pretty good at punching in the Nickelodeon combo before the picture even comes on the screen. But for whatever reason the paid programming just sucked them right in.

I thought at first that maybe they were in the same morning zone I was and just didn't realize that they were staring at the TV, but not the case. After ogling them for a minute and a half while they stared, weirdly mesmerized, I asked what they were watching. Ty said, "It's this stuff for your hair. It's called Wen. It makes your hair soft . . . and smooth . . . and shiny . . . and controllable. You should get some. It's only $19.95."

Love Notes

2010-10-07T09:01:00.000-04:00

With a new school year comes a new crush. So far this year it's Daniella.

In true Ty fashion, he wanted to let her know of his love with a note. I gave him access to my stuff and let him go to town. He never disappoints.

Oh yeah --

2010-09-26T09:00:00.005-04:00

school started.

Shea is now in 9th grade and officially a high-schooler, which I find more difficult than he does. Here he is looking both ways to make sure no one is seeing his mommy take his picture, and then the only decent pose he'd cooperate long enough for. I hate this Too Big For My Mom phase.

Getting a quick hug goodbye:

Ty as a new first grader:

His school is right around the corner so he gets to walk to school with his friends everyday. It also means no driving and no fighting school traffic; we just walk out and wait for the crossing guards to stop traffic. It's pretty sweet.

A week later Landon started ~~the new chapter in my life~~ preschool.

To give him perspective and something to look forward to on the move over, we told him that the next place we live is where he'll be going to school. The entire drive over he asked if he could get a backpack. Every time we stopped he asked if this is where his school is. So perspective clearly didn't work, but he was obviously looking forward to it. The minute we got here, despite not having a house for four weeks, we bought the backpack. That put a cap on half of his anxiety. Imagine his disappointment when school starts in September and they tell us that they use buckets instead.

He was pretty ticked that he had to take a mop bucket to school instead of his cool backpack that he'd been sitting on for two whole months but he got over it pretty quickly. Especially since we get to decorate it with stickers and Mom drew his name really neat on it.

From the first day he's loved it. No fits, no crying for me not to leave, no saying he doesn't want to go. It makes me leaving him to get a pedicure so much more rewarding.

Goodnight Moon

2010-08-29T11:18:00.005-04:00

The kids are in their own rooms now so bedtime stories now mean one for Ty and then trucking down the hallway to read one for Landon. I have been reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid to Ty since we're trying to move out of the storybook stage and into the chapter books with him so inevitably, his bedtime story takes a little longer than usual. By the time I get to poor Landon, I'm really only in the mood for a quickie, so most nights it's the classic (but short) Brown Bear, Brown Bear or Moo, Baa, La La La. It's quick but he doesn't care. Last night it was Goodnight Moon.

Here's how our really quick short story went:

In the great green room
There was a telephone
and a bwoon! Look, Mom! A wed bwoon!
Yes, and a red balloon
I want a wed bwoon. Can I hab a wed bwoon, too? Or bwue or yewwow?
Yes, Landon. Maybe tomorrow but right now we're reading.
K
And a picture of ---
A cow!
The cow jumping over the moon.
Why is dat cow jumping ober da moon?
I don't know.
How can he jump SO HIGH! Like higher dan da sky?
I don't know, Bud. Maybe he's a magic cow. Can I finish reading now?
Yes.
And there were --
Bears!!
-- three little bears sitting on chairs
Why are dose bears sitting on chairs?
Because they're probably tired.
And two little kittens
Where are da kittens? Oh.
And a pair of mittens.
Mittens? What are mittens?
Those things. They're for your hands when they're cold.
Oh. Like when it's snowing?
Yes, exactly.
And a little toy house
I want to get in dat lil house. I want to be dis lil (crouching down and making a tent over his head with his hands) and get in dat lil house.
Okay, well you are little.
And a young mouse
Mom, why is a mouse in da house?
(Good point.) I don't know, Bud.
Dat mouse isn't sposed to be in da house, huh?
He sure isn't.
And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush
(We actually made it through that whole page)
And a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush"
Why is dat lady saying dat?
Maybe she wants her little boy to go to sleep.
Oh. So she say "shhhh"
Yep!
Goodn---
Wait!! I DO IT!
(looking at everything on the page)
G'night bwoon, g'night curtains, g'nigh cats, g'night bed . . .
Okay, is it my turn now?
Yes
Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Wait. Mom, wait. Wait. Is dat moon outside. Or inside?
Well, what do you think? Are moons inside?
No. Outside.
Okay . .
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Dat cow is jumping SO HIGH again!
Yes, he is. Now let me finish reading or I won't have time to finish it.
Yes, ma'am.
Goodnight light
And the red balloon
(and I can see him itching to tell me he wants a red balloon tomorrow)
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
and goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks
And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
and goodnight mouse
Why is dat mouse by da fire?
I don't know. Maybe he's cold.
An' he getting warm? Cuz he so cold?
Probably.
Yeah, prob'ly he wants to get hot.
Yeah . . . Goodnight comb
and goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
Is dat a bowl?
Yes.
Wif cereal in it?
Yes, kind of like cereal.
What kind a cereal?
It's mush, babe. Like oatmeal.
Like o-meal?
Yes. They just call it something different.
Oh. Do dey wanna eat it?
Probably.
Oh.
And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
(and we hit the very last page and . . )
I DO IT!!! Wait!
Umm, g'night moon, g'night bwoon, g'night lil house, g'night fire, g'night windows . . .
Goodnight noises everywhere.
Read it again!
God no!

Okay, so I was little less harsh in my delivery and said something more along the lines of "It's late; we'll read it again tomorrow. Goodnight babe. I love you. Mwah!" but sweet Jesus. I realize he's in the inquisitive stage and that I should nurture his curiosity, but it doesn't make it any less freaking annoying.

Bad Dream

2010-08-26T11:23:00.000-04:00

I felt a hand tapping on me in bed this morning and woke up to find Ty standing next to me sniffling. He'd obviously been crying and informed me that he had had a bad dream. I told him to crawl into bed with me and tell me all about it.

Ty (cry-talking): There was this mean girl, about 11 or 12 or something
and she had a wand (sniffle)
and she pointed at me to make me dance
but I blocked it
and I didn't dance (sniffle)
but then she pointed it at Landon (sniffle, cry)
and he couldn't block it
so then he just started dancing
AND HE WOULDN'T STOP DANCING! (wahhhhh!)

I was very supportive in his fear, but if you could have seen my face . . .

He loves me

2010-08-25T20:29:00.002-04:00

My son, that is.

* * *

Coming across pics of my wedding day and reminiscing of when I was skinny and young.

Me to my husband: Babe, did you think I was beautiful on our wedding day??
Jeff: Of course I thought you were beautiful.
(silence)
Ty: Well, I think you're still beautiful.

* * *

Ty in the car: Mom, before you had a boyfriend, were you The Bachelorette?
Me: Ummmm . . no.

(But he must think the Bachelorette is hot, and that I must have been just like her.)

* * *

He's also been really good about telling me he loves me lately. Every night he just squeezes me and says "I love you, mom." With all four words clearly enunciated. Last night he put his arms around me, told me he loved me, and then kissed me on the cheek. I started to wonder if he was setting me up, so I asked him what he wanted and he said "Nothing. I just love you." I told him I loved him, too and that he was a good son, and walking away, he said "You're a really good mom."

And this would be my heart melting.

Oy!

2010-08-24T23:23:00.004-04:00

I don't know which was worse: Being homeless for a month or without internet for 13 days. If you'd have asked me four days ago, I would've thought being a racist devil worshiper would have been easier (not really). And you can forget about Facebook after two weeks. It's like starting a book halfway through and then having to flip back and try to figure out how it got to this point. So lost.

It did take way longer than expected but we finally found a place. We were so fortunate that we had great friends to spend our house-hunting days with, but despite my selfish fun, it was due time that we got out of there considering my youngest boy child had only a girl his age with whom to consume his time, and said time included fake flat-ironing his hair, pushing a stroller with a plastic baby he named Pizza, and fighting over the pink plate. Much to his dad's dismay, I'm all for neutralizing gender roles when it comes to play but I draw the line at a sparkly pink purse to "hold his toys".

We're now in our new home (for now) and it's okay. Not great, but I'm working my mojo and it's coming together quite nicely. We do have a great neighborhood with tree-lined streets, great schools within walking distance, and great neighbors who offered us beer on the very first night.

The move went as moves are supposed to, and I even learned a few things:

1. When the movers say they'll be there between 1:00 and 3:00, that can mean 3:05.

2. Downsizing is no fun; I don't like being forced to be creative.

3. Packers really don't care about your stuff as much as you do.

4. Mean, cranky-ass movers that complain out loud about how much your stuff weighs actually become quite nice after you feed them and are more likely to put your stuff back together when they break it while moving it off the truck.

5. When I'm looking for essentials like Kitchenware on Day One, it's only fitting that I'd find the contents of The Junk Drawer first.

6. Things I bought for House #3 might not fit in House #4, but the thing I'm glad I saved from House #2 sure does!

And after almost two months, it's ridiculous how anxious I was to get my own stuff! It was like new all over again. To break up the unpacking a bit, I played this little game with myself called "Guess what's in the wrapping". Wildly amusing really.

For the most part, things came out okay, but it was so obvious which packer packed which boxes. That became a game,too: "Try to imagine what the stuff in the box is going to look like when we open it." One guy wrapped EVERYthing in paper. The glasses and such were triple wrapped, which is kind of what I expected, but even the kids' plastic toys and our pancake griddles were wrapped in paper. The other guy surprisingly didn't think to wrap framed pictures before sticking them in boxes with wooden curtain rods and a 10-lb trophy. Seriously, we're on Line 55 of our damages claim. Fortunately, Jeff has a lot of time on his hands for once in our life (you have to imagine "a lot" like Jim Carrey says it in Dumb & Dumber or it's just too serious.)

Basement Dwelling

2010-07-24T06:08:00.000-04:00

As I type this, I am sitting perfectly alone, having my my first cup of coffee, watching the sun come up.

As peaceful and glorious as that may seem, the real reason I'm up is because my eyes were twitching awake from stress and I only allowed myself to get out of bed once I saw the tiniest inkling of daylight.

House-hunting in this area sucks donkey doodle. We literally spent the first six days looking at houses from sun-up to well past sun-down. We even hired a real estate agent. And I swear I'm not being too picky. I got over stainless steel appliances and California closets on Day Two and now really am just looking for schools that rate higher than a 3 out of 10 and a neighborhood I won't get shot in. Unfortunately, our budget doesn't quite accommodate that.

We've upped it, but I refuse to be house poor on a rental and it makes me want to vomit when I digest how expensive it is to live here. I miss you, Okinawa.

We did find one house during Week One and it was meh, but I felt like I could stomach it. It was a nice enough neighborhood and the price was right. It smelled like smoke and cat, but the people swore they were getting everything cleaned before they moved out and I was already getting high on the bleach and Febreze I was daydreaming about. I guess I should've been a tad concerned when on the MLS description it said "Call School Board" under Schools, as in "We're really hoping you'll just come by and love our neighborhood and love our house, and we'll even have the sweet old guy next door show you how sweet he is when you get out of the car so you'll be dying to live here before you find out what schools you're zoned for."

So we told the agent Yes, filled out the app, and ventured off to withdraw our deposit. It was then that I took the paper's advice and called the school board. Let's just say that I'm pretty sure there are gangs there.

Week Two we found a house that was meh, but it was in a great neighborhood, with great schools, and at a fair price. We snatched it up, signed a lease, and then went on vacation for a week. The day we got back we got the call that the current tenant isn't moving after all and we were shoved back on the street. At least we got to spend a week not finding a house to live in. Bitches.

Here we are now, Week Three and we have one potential that we're waiting to hear back from. Perfect house, perfect neighborhood, but they're having issues with us having a dog. They said No at first, and then when I told them that my dog was perfect, they came back at us wanting a thousand dollars non-refundable for a pet fee. I told them to suck it and now they're considering five hundred. We should know today.

So as of now, we're living in our friends' basement, not able to register for school, find a gym, get our stuff, buy anything, or relax until we get a house and it's not looking so good. I actually miss cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and all the normal things that come with life. I'd also like to run off this month of eating-fast-food-three-times-a-day-while-sitting-in-the-car-and-not-walking-more-than-up-someone's-front-steps crap I've put on.

But until then, we wait . . .

Our trip, in pictures

2010-07-15T21:41:00.000-04:00

Because we've been living on top of each other in a hotel room for two weeks, I haven't exactly been inspired to sit and write (I say this as my 14-year-old and my 3-year-old are beating each other up, my 6-year-old is sitting in his underwear laughing at the top of his lungs at the TV, and my husband is laying on the couch watching it all.)

So in an effort to get y'all up to date -- and dump my internal memory of things I've wanted to blog about but can't -- I give you our trip . . . in pictures.

Bye-bye clean, pretty house . . .

Loaded up:

Leaving Las Vegas . . .

Our first night on the road - Bryce Canyon, UT

Hubby's Birthday (sans kids, plus alcoholic beverages):

Insert this pic more than a dozen times:

How we watched July 4th fireworks (on 10:00 news replay):

View from our lunch spot:

View from Sears Tower:

Shedd's Aquarium:

(Notice Chicago was the only place we actually stopped long enough to do anything, so we tried to do it all.)

I think the Benadryl had kicked in for these two states:

(Maryland)

It was midnight and I'm pretty sure I was alseep when we got here so these pics are courtesy of Google, but you get the point:

Hopefully we'll be settled soon and I can get back on track. I've got some pretty funny stories to tell.

Moving

2010-06-24T17:14:00.000-04:00

This week is moving week. This is what I'm looking at:

Have I mentioned that I hate moving? Hate it. It has become clear that my house could use a good deep cleaning every two years or so ... but that doesn't make it any less hateable.

Of course everything I need but forgot to leave out got packed, like my birth control pills for next month. That became very evident as I listened to deathly-bored children scream and beat each other up for fun. I also confirmed my decision to be done having children despite my past wavering when I called the Women's Clinic to leave a message for my physician in hopes of getting an emergency pill pack, and when the chick asked if I was pregnant I screeched, "NO! God, no!"

To top off my day, I woke up to my laptop's DVD player flap pried off in one 3-year-old's attempt to insert a movie, the puzzle Hubs and I worked on all last night to keep ourselves from staring at the wall completely dismantled, a pound of Laffy Taffy consumed, and a concoction of water, peanut butter, and Cascade cleverly mixed in a protein shaker. Oh wait - that was actually all before eight o'clock.

The movers come back tomorrow to load everything up and then we get to spend three days cleaning before trekking coast to coast with three kids and a fat dog. Despite my veto, Dad has allowed the boys to hook up the Wii in our van. I bitched that they are spoiled and what about old school gazing out the window playing the alphabet game? but he assured me it's for us.

Isaiah

2010-06-20T14:05:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we had our pictures taken in the park. It was early (like 7:30 early) but we needed to beat the playtime rush and the lighting is really good at that time, so I learned.

While we were swinging the kids, getting some good shots, a little boy approached us and started telling us how he can swing high enough to touch the tree just ahead. Actually, he has swung on a swing five times higher than that swing, and has jumped from it without breaking a leg.

It was easy to dismiss his story as a typically-fabricated kid thing, but as I "oh yeah?"ed and "wow!"ed my way through it while watching my own kids, his life story inadvertently began to unfold, and I was nothing less than awestruck.

He was a sweet kid, and seemingly far more knowledgeable than he should be for his 10 or so years. He was going on and on about how agile he is, and that it was mainly because he gets beat up a lot at school. I asked him why and he said it's because he doesn't wear his hearing aids. He then leaned in and secretly told me that his family doesn't have a lot of money.

I told him that was okay, that we don't have a lot of money either, and that actually most families don't have a lot of money, to which he added that people think he's weird because he has two moms. I said that was okay, too, because it doesn't matter what kind of family you have, only that they love you. He then told me that it was actually his grandmother who adopted him, because his "biological" mom did drugs (while mocking shooting up) and tried to get him out of her belly with a clothes hanger.

As if the actual act doesn't promote a "WTF??" enough, who is the moron telling him that?? Jesus, my heart ached for this kid. My friend taking the pictures could sense that I needed an outlet and called for me to get in some shots, but honestly I wanted to sit and talk with him. It was obvious he just needed someone to pay attention to him. I asked him where his mom was and he pointed to the other side of the park. Assuming, I asked if that was her sitting on the bench. He told me no, that she was working. He had actually been pointing to the Arby's across the street.

Fearing the worst, I asked him how long he was supposed to stay at the park, and was told "until 3. But I have to check in at 10." Checking in would require walking across a busy street and then back again. A small part of me felt like I should be alerting someone, as leaving a child out in the 90-degree heat to fend for himself for 6+ hours was clearly neglect, but the majority of me knew that his mom probably had no other means of going to work and figures if he's at the park, he's playing and can be right across the street to at least check in. Hopefully, he'll get to eat that way as well.

He was just pitiful without being pathetic. It was as if he didn't even realize that his situation was heartbreaking; it just was what it was. He told me that he goes to a "variety school" to help him deal with his anger issues. He told me he wants to work in an animal shelter someday. He even leaned in and whispered that one of his moms is black, as if he had to warn me. When I told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, he reiterated his warning by telling me how feisty she is, begrudgingly repeating some curse words she uses when she's angry, as though maybe there is some aggression he is concerned about.

Changing the subject so as not to get too personally involved, I asked him how old he was. He took a second, counted to himself and said "13". Noting how unsure he was (and how un-13 he looked) I asked him his birthday and was told it was in August. I asked him what year and after thinking a bit, he told me "1918."

I let him know that that'd make him super old -- like almost a hundred! -- and that it was probably like 1997 or 98? He was satisfied with that and said "Probably like '97 or 8 or 9." Clearly, he wasn't sure, and that broke my heart.

I chatted with him a little longer, until I had to tend to my own kids, but as we started to leave I noticed he was moving on to the next family. I thought about how many people he must talk to every day while his mom is at work, trying to make ends meet, and couldn't help but wonder if he's taken care of properly. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. I wondered how it must be for him to spend all day in the park, watching families play together, picnic together, laugh, and love -- if he feels envy or yearning or resentment. I also can't help but wonder if he'll turn out okay.

I've thought about him often in the past two days and have contemplated going back to see if he's there -- to feel out if he needs anything, or if there is any way I can help his family. I don't want to get too involved; I'm no social worker by any means, but I can't help wondering how much time he spends alone and if it would make him happy to have someone come back just to talk to him.

Stop the Spinning

2010-06-17T10:55:00.000-04:00

I think I just had the busiest week of my life. Unfortunately, this week is turning out to be pretty much the same. With moving, Weapons School festivities (one of which I was co-in-charge-of), taking on the job of crafting 30 Thank You notes for a friend, and every appointment any family would need crammed into a two-week period since we're moving, my head felt like it was going to explode. Oh, and throw in my kid's last week of Kindergarten and me wanting to make it an uber big deal by throwing a pool party and ~~buying~~ making a killer teacher gift. (Go ahead and insert a big "WTF???" here.)

To stop the head spinning, I decided to get a massage.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

I laid there and tried to relax, but couldn't get past everything I had to do. So I made every effort to block out the stressful stuff and thought about how much fun it will be getting all dressed up for our formal night out. Except I remembered I still didn't have a dress.

So I thought about how much fun it will be to finally move to DC. Except I remembered that we still don't have a house.

So I thought about laying by the pool. Except it reminded me that the backyard is a fugly mess.

So then I said screw it, I'm just going to cheese straight out and imagine laying in a hammock under a palm tree on a deserted oil-free beach...and then I remembered that I promised myself I would lose 15 pounds before I ever step foot on a beach again. (That's supposed to be my motivation.)

So I left the massage feeling more stressed out than ever since before the massage I didn't have time to dote on how much I had to do. I was oily, down 65 bucks, and lost an hour of things I should have been doing.

Grody Teeth Pics

2010-06-08T23:26:00.000-04:00

Aside from my wedding day, the three days my children were born, the day I saw New Kids on the Block in concert, and the day I graduated college, today is The. Best. Day. EVER. After exactly 12 months to the day, I finally got my ~~disgustingly ugly and inappropriately age-reducing torture devices~~ braces off.

It's also been 12 months straight that I've been asked why I got braces in the first place since my teeth were already straight.

I get it, since this is what I looked like before braces in pictures:

It's a lot like looking skinnier by wearing flattering clothes. Or like you have great boobs because you know how to buy bras. I got really good at shooting from my good side and making sure my bottom teeth didn't show. To the unaware eye, I had great teeth, when in reality, this is what I was working with:

It's Shrek . . . I know. I can't even believe I'm showing you guys. But see, I can, because this is what it looks like today:

Wahoo! right? I thought I was going to die numerous times over the last year (and at times I wish I would have) but looking back - totally worth it.

I mean, it's not *perfect* and I have to admit that I was kiiinda hoping for perfect. But almost. My mid-line is off a tad and my top right tooth is a little wider than I'd like, but after not-so-subtly hinting for him to just saw that sucker down, I was told that it's just the "anatomy of my tooth" and that I have to leave it be. I'm not fully convinced though and I'm researching dental filing equipment on eBay. Really.

What sucks is that the tooth used to look that way because it really was jacked up:

and you can see in this pic from today that it's straight; it's just a naturally fucked up tooth.

(are these the weirdest pictures ever?)

So whatev. I won't bore you with anymore braces chatter, but for some reason I feel the need to divulge the rest of the befores-and-afters of my oral cavity. So enjoy!

(freaking gross)

Oh yeah . . .

2010-06-07T02:49:00.000-04:00

So not this past weekend but last weekend we went to Six Flags in California (I know there are a thousand songs that mention California, but I can't help every time I say it thinking of robotic Dr. Dre, and then it makes me feel the need to drink a Forty.)

The drive to L.A. from Vegas is on the scenic, but not so exciting side. Lots of mountains and not much else. On the way, we stopped to see an elephant on the side of the highway,

paid $3.99 for one gallon of gas at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere to get us to the real gas station just past the middle of nowhere, and stopped at a seemingly overpriced but apparently oh-so-worth-it Greek diner in a tiny little town that was nice enough to extend their truckers discount to us military once we asked.

Once in L.A. we checked in and met up with our Friend Family which always makes it more fun, especially when everybody likes each other. When moms are good friends, they don't get so ticked when the dads who are good friends proceed to act like the 14-year-olds they're supposed to help keep track of.

Anyway, we all had a blast, and I even pulled my panties up and rode a ridiculous roller coaster. Twice. However, you won't see any pictures of me from that entire weekend since I was amidst my week-before-LASIK and was wearing my glasses. Combined with my braces, I was a total butt face. Shea seems to have been AWOL as well but really he was just standing in line most of the time. My job was mainly to take pics of the little kids doing stuff to keep them entertained while Dad and Shea rode cool rides that neither of them could fit on. But they had fun.

They got wet while fully dressed:

sometimes got scared enough to crouch down, unable to be seen:

met cool people:

and took token tourist photos.

Aside from a couple meltdowns induced by sugar, heat, absence of naps, and the mother of all horrors: having to share a Frozen Lemonade, they rocked this trip. I admit, there were times during planning that I ~~kind of~~ absolutely yearned for a hammock under a palm tree somewhere, but I have to say that watching those kids' totally awestruck, giggly faces just from riding the horses on a carousel is happiness to me.

Sometimes I want to be just an M.

2010-06-04T20:30:00.001-04:00

I know I should be flattered, but being a MILF is kind of creepy. While I'm thankful that I still have my looks three kids later, I do not need barely-out-of-high-school rednecks in the Baskin Robbins parking lot to yell "Oh, dayum!" while I'm walking to my car.

I realize that I made eye-contact with you, Junior, but it was merely to make sure you weren't going to run me over with your monster tires. It was not to initiate communication by any means. And did you not see me in my khaki bermuda shorts getting into my mini van??? Clearly I'm not looking for a hot date, but thanks for the shout out.

Oh, and P.S. Cat calls, or anything that you have to holler across a parking lot, is not a compliment and is just gross.

Help Thy Self

2010-05-25T01:35:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been into self-help books. Most recently, Jillian Michaels' Making the Cut (yeah right), Scream-Free Parenting, and currently The Happiness Project. Not because I'm necessarily unhappy, just not completely understanding of how happy I probably could be. And plus, who couldn't stand being happier?

I'm only on page 4 and already I realize that I'm not the only person who doesn't completely appreciate her life and that's pretty rewarding. I mean, I know I have it good. I just can't help comparing what I have and sometimes yearning for what I don't. My house is too small, now my house is too big to keep up with. We never do anything, now we have too much to do and I never have time to slow down. I'm always waiting until we have more money, more time, or our kids are older, in school, and less messy. Apparently that's normal.

I also don't have it completely together. Apparently that's normal, too. I'm not talking about those people who say they aren't perfect because sometimes they let their kids watch two cartoons in a row when they need to mop the floors. Or because sometimes their kids don't have any fruit with their cereal. I'm talking putting your kids to bed in the pajamas they woke up in because you never changed their clothes that day imperfect. Or realizing you fed your kids popcorn and Reese's Pieces for dinner at the 5:00 movie and then put them straight to bed at 7:00 so you could sit down in front of the computer with a glass of wine kind of imperfect. You know what? That's OKAY sometimes. Days don't have to be perfect. You just have to appreciate them.

One great quote from the book, which is actually a quote of a quote, is "I had a really great life. I just wish I'd realized it sooner." Story. Of. My life. Kind of like when you look back at a picture of yourself from ten years ago and would kill two hookers to look like that again, but then remember that you complained the entire time about how you needed to lose five pounds?

So with this new-found motivation I decided to start my self-help journey by going to the gym every weekday by 6:00 am. Like every weekday. I'm already doing it most weekdays; I just really need for it to be all of them.

So I set the alarm for 5:30, eyes shut at 9:30 for the first quality 8 hours of sleep in god knows how long, and am jolted awake at 2am by the shrill screams of a child realizing he puked in his bed because he ate popcorn and Reese's Pieces for dinner. Totally effed up my REM and I slept until 7:00.

But that's not to say it didn't completely work. Sure I didn't make it to the gym this morning, but I did give a baby a secret bath in the middle of the night that he found to be the coolest. thing. ever. He went to bed with clean, puke-free hair, teeth brushed, and in a bed that was stripped down and redressed -- all at 2 o'clock in the morning (which is kind of a big deal since I really felt like just wiping him down with a washrag and tossing him on the floor with a blanket.)

Baby Thug

2010-05-18T19:25:00.001-04:00

I cleaned out my car in the garage and left Landon, fully dressed and with shoes on, to play in the driveway with bubbles. Literally minutes later I find this:

I must admit, I like the concept. Maybe his mess-making abilities will decrease by a third or so, but this is the kid we refer to as a human tornado so not likely. Keeping up with him in a store would be manageable and I wouldn't have to hear him wailing about being a baby in the buggy. But I'd probably get some pretty shitty looks.

So after much contemplation (and a little bit of panic when I thought I needed a key, then realized they are the easily removable, dollar store push-button handcuffs that small children would have access to) I took them off. Good thing was I didn't have to worry about him going far for me to run in and grab the camera first.

Hopefully the Fresh 'N Easy tattoo and super-sagging pants aren't a sign of anything more criminal to come. (But I'm not betting on it.)

Color lesson

2010-05-16T13:30:00.001-04:00

Landon still doesn't know his colors. He randomly guesses every one, and if I tell him something is one color, he thinks the rest of the items are that same color. I've tried flashcards, games, books, videos -- he just doesn't get it.

So I decided that we would concentrate on one color at a time until he nails it. I spend an entire week (or more. Usually more.) pointing out only things in that week's color. I let him pick out clothes in that color. And then at the end of the learning period we go to the store and he gets to pick out one prize from the brilliant dollar bin at Target that is that color. Then we move on.

This past week we worked on black, since that's the color of our dog. He picks out black stuff left and right and I'm pretty proud since it's not the typical red, blue, and yellow that we normally work on. Except now, everything else he points out he claims is black. Black is on the brain.

Yesterday he was walking around poking his belly out saying "I hab a baby in my bewwy!"

So I ask, "Oh really? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It a baby!"

"But what kind of baby is it?"

"It a bwack baby!"

I live with trolls.

2010-05-14T10:21:00.000-04:00

This is how I found my dog this morning:

That would be rubber bands strapped around her mouth and the cushion pads from the cabinets stripped off and sprinkled on her head. Fortunately, she's too sweet to bite through their hands when they pull stunts like this.

Rated WTF

2010-05-13T17:19:00.000-04:00

Remember when Disney movies provoked nice, innocent, far-fetched dreams of hobo girls marrying princes, or kissing frogs and they would turn into princes, and nobody had babies that would provoke awkward conversations -- just nice, innocent royal weddings?

Then Disney goes and gets all mature on me and makes movies like "Up" that, although not verbally confirmed, implies that the lady wants to have a family but can't get pregnant. She paints a nursery, goes to the doctor, gets the sad face, depressing music plays -- what the hell?

This kind of drama, along with the incubation and newly learned metamorphosis of eggs to birds in the Kindergarten classroom, instigates pretty awkward questions from a six-year-old.

"Why is she sad, because she doesn't have a baby?"

"Yes . . . it's so sad."

"Why can't she have a baby?"

(Er . . . ) "Well, because ladies' bellies are built differently, and some can grow babies and some can't."

"How long does a baby have to stay in there?"

"For almost a year."

"A WHOLE YEAR?? Why?"

"Well, it takes a long time to grow every single thing you need to be a person. You have to grow arms, and legs, and eyes, and a mouth."

"Except birds. Birds just go grow wings instead of arms. And feathers."

"That's right."

"I wish I had a pecker . . .

(and with the whip of my head lashing up, I looked in the rear view mirror to find him bobbing his head like a woodpecker.)

. . . that'd be so cool."

Momma Me-a

2010-05-10T23:59:00.000-04:00

I love Mother's Day. It's the one day my family lets me have absolutely no responsibilities. My birthday is a pretty special day, too, as long as it doesn't come on a weekday. Then it's pretty much like any other day. But Mother's Day -- it's perfectly situated on Sunday all the time.

Mother's Day I get to sleep in, wake up to breakfast, and then do whatever I want us to do with ~~absolutely no~~ very little complaining. Yesterday I chose this:

And I got this:

and of course this:

But my *real* present was this:

Whoops. I mean this:

Fast Things and Patriotism

2010-05-09T14:14:00.000-04:00

Last night was the AMA Supercross finals here in Vegas. Apparently this thing is a big freaking deal. Kind of like Nascar, but on two wheels and without the beer bellies.

Nobody in my family has one ounce of care for motocross, but we got free tickets because husband was doing the fly over for the opening ceremonies. I felt kind of bad taking seats from someone who might actually want to be there, especially since one kid was sitting playing a pufferfish game on the iPod and another was covering his ears and whining to go home the whole time. But Jeff thought it would be fun for them so I trucked them up there, by myself, and pretended to know what I was watching. I pretty much learned everything from the guy next to me anyway, particularly the riders' nicknames. ("Wooo! Her comes Iron Mike Wazowski!" "Ow! Go K-dawg!" "What?? Pete 'The Handler!' Hanson?!") Let's pretend I remember exactly what they were.

What was really great was that, despite looking like total hardcore rage-against-the-machiners, the audience was completely pumped by the fly over. It came perfectly timed at the end of the National Anthem, and everyone was screaming and "YEAH!ing" and fist pumping -- it was amazing. I was indescribably proud at that moment.

Unfortunately, the glee wore off quickly, as I felt I was handling monkeys on speed who were long past bedtime. Jeff was supposed to meet me about an hour after I got there. I knew I could hold them off until then, but as two hours passed and then we were closing in on three, I started to get ticked. He wouldn't even answer his phone, and that really pisses me off. I had no cash, the kids bitched for lemonade and snow cones every time the guy walked by, and I was sick of hearing them fight over the iPod.

Just as I was hanging up from the 5th voice mail recording, the boys yell "There's Daddy!" Not in real life though - on the jumbo screen. He was giving an interview, like a superstar, right after the old guy from Cold Case (which I totally ♥). At least I knew he was there.

He finally came up to us and like roaches when a light comes on, both little kids peeled away from me and rushed him. I never felt so free in my life.

On the way out, people came up to him left and right, shaking his hand and thanking him for his service. It was awesome to watch and it made me so proud of him and of the people who were taking the time to show appreciation for our military. It really makes it that much more worth it.

I joked in the car about how much of a rockstar he was and he said "Yeah, it's crazy. I'm walking through on the way in and people are asking to take pictures with me (really?) and shaking my hand . . . and then I get to my wife and she barks 'What the fuck took so long?!' It's pretty awesome." For the record, those weren't exactly the words I used.

So I apologized for being so mean and he said he understood how miserable it had gotten, thanked me for not leaving him there, and we didn't fight about it. All in all, it was a pretty decent night, and I got some pretty cool pictures to show for it.

Love Notes

2010-05-02T22:11:00.000-04:00

Ty is in a note-writing phase. He writes notes whenever he gets the chance and to anyone he might like to communicate with, whether they can read or not. If he has something to say these days, he writes it in a note. They usually come in envelopes (like real mail) but I draw the line at real stamps. It took one semi-freak out then calmly collecting myself because, really, it's just a 42-cent stamp for him to realize that I'm serious about not using the effing stamps.

As mundane as they may seem and as frequently as they come, I'm surprised I'm still so warmed by these love notes. There's nothing like having a little kid express how much they love you, even so much more than the whole space.

Envelope:

Handstamped card front:

Card inside:

(That would be him walking out the door to find a new home, he explained. And happily, I see.)

My three-year-old is a hater

2010-04-30T12:57:00.001-04:00

for absolutely no reason.

He just claims to hate things. People he doesn't know mainly. And so far only women and babies.

The other day we were in the store and he saw a picture of a perfectly nice woman reaching up into a cabinet to get a pot or possibly some food. He took one look at the picture and said "I hate dat wady."

"Aw, that's not a nice thing to say, Landon. We don't say hate."

"I don't wike dat wady."

"Why don't you like her? You don't even know her."

"I don't wike her cuz she getting stuff down."

Seems fair, right?

We were in a portrait studio (okay, first of all let me say that I do NOT make a habit of patroning portrait studios but this kid has zero pictures to put in a wallet and grandparents demand the wallet pics.) and on the wall was a poster of some kids holding flowers, some more kids with folded hand under chin, and some babies. Landon gazed longingly at the poster for some time and then blurted, "I hate dose babies."

"Landon, we do not say hate, remember?"

"Welw, I like dose big kids ... but I do hate dose babies."

What's even better is when he does it to real live people. You know, those sitting at the table directly next to us in a restaurant? He stares, he listens, I'm assuming he's making his decision, when yep, he's decided: "I don't wike dose wadies tawking." Fortunately he said it loud enough and while staring and pointing.

Thanks for all the awkardness, L. I've never finished an Aussie Rita and dipped so fast in my life.

Mystery

2010-04-19T19:33:00.000-04:00

I noticed today that some pictures were knocked over on my bookcase so, knowing that it was the result of ball being thrown in the house, I asked which boy did it. I knew right off the bat that it wasn't Shea because he's tall enough to put them back up. I can totally tell when Ty is lying so when he said it wasn't him, I believed him. It left only one person.

"Landon, did you knock those pictures down?"

"No! It was Tywer."

"No, I know it wasn't Tyler."

"It was Say-ee." (Sadie's our dog.)

"No, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Sadie."

"It was Da-ee." (He obviously has no problem throwing anyone under the bus.)

"It wasn't Daddy. I'm giving you one chance to tell me the truth or you're going to time-out."

"Hmmm . . ." (with finger tapping his chin) "I fink dat baw junt uh-dare by issewf."

"Well, since I KNOW that ball didn't jump up there by itself, you have to go to time-out now."

"Yes! I do it."

"Yes, you knocked the pictures down?"

"Yeah. I fink I jus FREW da baw an' it junt uh-dare. Iss a assident."

"Well, thank you for the telling the truth, but please no more throwing the ball in the house."

"Yes, ma'am"

Back to Life

2010-04-16T22:21:00.000-04:00

Girls Only Weekend was incredibly relaxing and is already a distant memory. The weather was crap before we left and crap when we got back, but for one day it was like the skies parted and the warmth of the sun embraced the Luxor pool. We slept and chatted and tanned and ate in peace and even managed to squeeze in some drinking and dancing here and there. No one was lost or jailed, (mostly) no one got sick, everyone kept their dignity, and aside from a slight case of claustrophobia everything went wickedly well. The room was over-priced for what we got but we nary noticed, what with the freedom high and all. I was sure I'd be refreshed for months to come, but reality came quickly and it hit hard.

Coming home I was stoked. I missed my kids and I missed my husband. The first night a phone call was suffice, but after a full 24 hours I was familysick. Ty was texting me from his dad's phone and it was really effing up my nightclub skillz. I wanted to cry I missed him so much.

I walked in the door and received my warm 30-second welcome (no more, no less.) Then I remembered why I left in the first place. Almost immediately came the fighting and the whining and the cooking -- oh the cooking! The house was surprisingly clean and I was happy about that, but was warned not to expect too much of that in the future.

Monday came and with its chaos, my relaxing vacation was a mere memory. I'm convinced though that if I just do more of those, they'll eventually add up to one really happy momma all the time. At least that's the theory I'm selling to my husband.

Vacation

2010-04-09T19:29:00.001-04:00

In about 32 minutes, I'm heading to Vegas. That's right. Sure I live here, but this time I'm really doing Vegas Vegas-style.

It's a Girls Only Weekend and since we really only have Friday through Sunday, we decided to nix the driving and just camp out downtown. And by camp out, I mean check into a swanky hotel room, lounge by a bartended pool, and eat overpriced dinners with no kids screaming over who has what color crayon or spilling milk in my lap.

I'm packing the tiny blue bikini that likely doesn't fit anymore and a trash magazine and some vodka and I may very well sleep until noon tomorrow. Then, I'm going to hip hop myself and my girlfriends down to the pool where I may just go ahead and sleep there, too. I can't remember the last time I closed my eyes around any body of water for more time than it takes to keep the sun from blinding me. And even then, the time is ticking because inevitably I have to peel them open to watch for drowners.

For one weekend, I'm not going to worry about how much my drinks cost, or how much of the day I've slept away, or how long I have to wait for a table. If the wait's an hour, I don't have to panic that my kids won't last that long; instead I'll just mosey on to the bar.

Forty-eight hours of pure overdue down time lie ahead of me. I have never had a break like this. Well, unless you count the four day girl trip to Guam that ended up being a 7-day trip. As much fun as that sounds, it goes downhill really fast when you spend three extra days in a military airport just trying to get home. And anyway, that was like six years ago. It's time.

Note: I love my kids and I love my husband, but sometimes you just need to be away for a little bit to really appreciate them. I'm sure I'll miss them ~~tremendously~~ a whole lot and I'll probably drunk dial them from a nightclub, but I will love them so so so much more on Sunday night.

Post-Easter

2010-04-05T20:47:00.000-04:00

Easter . . totally pulled it off. I ditched the bat and decided to go with a balloon instead. That was a fairly easy decision considering while I was at the store getting all the Easter Bunny stuff, husband called and put The Baby on the phone to corner me with "I wan a bawoom." I told him that I didn't have any balloons to avoid having to buy one, to which he barked, "Mum! You'we at the stowe!" (He says his R's like W's and I have no idea how to spell out that enunciated so just bear with me.) I told him to forget about it, I wasn't buying a balloon but that the Easter Bunny was bringing really cool stuff for tomorrow. He was a little ticked but mostly okay with it.

Fast forward to Saturday night. Husband and I have plans to do dinner (the 4th is our official paper anniversary - kicker to all of you who thought you knew me, eh?) and then stop by a martini bar for a friend's birthday really quick. One hour leads to three, two drinks leads to four, and we finally decide to put a cap on it and go home.

Except we forgot the balloon. We are pulling in the driveway when husband remembers (good husband.) We back out and head to the only store open at midnight before Easter. Apparently they didn't plan on selling any balloons anytime soon either because the only one that wasn't wrinkly and deflated was an enormous Cars balloon that talks. Seriously. It's enormous:

It was expensive, and it's incredibly annoying, and it says Happy Birthday, but the Easter Bunny was desperate. Fortunately, this kid's love for balloons and Lightning McQueen leaves him caring less that it wishes him a 30-second happy birthday every time you touch it, move it, walk by it, or look in its direction.

Ty left the Bunny a note to please hide our eggs in the backyard and that was fun to do after a ~~couple~~ few beverages and a long car ride home that yearned for a bed and some contact solution. I even made it upstairs and back down again with the "traces of bunny" cotton without stopping to make out with my pillow first.

So with requests met and Bunny evidence planted, I had done all I could do to make it special and just hoped it was enough. Needless to say, Ty's trampling into our room at 6:30 in the morning squealing that the Easter Bunny came was met with mixed emotions. On one hand I was ecstatic (internally). On the other hand, was it really morning already? Because quite frankly my eyelids felt like they were glued to my eyeballs and my legs felt abnormally heavy and motionless, much like tree trunks attached to my waist. Tree trunks dipped in concrete.

But in the end, ecstatic won and we all hopped down to see what The Bunny brought. We gussied up and went out to brunch, came back for a stressful Easter egg hunt thanks to the torrential overnight winds that blew most of them out of their conspicuous hiding places,

and just spent the day hanging as a family.