Mommystar

I'm like a show on TNT

2011-06-15T21:26:00.002-04:00

Apparently Kyra Sedgwyck and I have more in common than I knew in the past. Well..actually this may be the only thing we have in common...we only perform in the summer.

Like The Closer (the best show on TV, ending this summer) I too, can only come out with new product in the summer months.

And while I would LOVE to be able to blog everyday...I just can't seem to get it done. But tonight, on the eve of my last day of work until September, I find myself knee deep in my second glass of wine, setting up new websites for my newest adventure, and wanting to tell you all the ridiculous stories that have happened this year.

But you'll have to wait until tomorrow...I have to go to bed so I can rise one last time at 5am to exercise, make lunch, pack bags, sign forms, and yell so loud the neighbors wake up.

Oh...the stories are SOOO funny.

pay it forward with dessert

2011-02-15T21:08:00.005-05:00

I really feel the need to tell you all about the dessert we had last night.

It was a 3 point souffle. And if you don't know what a "point" is...well then you don't watch enough tv in the middle of the day. Somewhere between Regis and Kelly and Days of Our Lives is a Jennifer Hudson tutorial on the benefits of counting your points. Have you seen it? Have you seen her? Holy cow...if counting points is what I need to do...then I'll do it!

So a point is a standard of measure for Weight Watchers...and 3 points is not a lot. In fact, it is the same as a 100 calorie bag of pretzels and less than a glass of wine. And now you tell me...which would you rather have for dessert...a bag of pretzels or a chocolate souffle. Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know the answer is both WITH a glass of wine, but we're trying to change that aren't we?

Now, I've never made a souffle before so in honor of Valentine's Day I channeled my inner Top Chef (again, if you don't get my reference, you must watch more tv in order for us to be friends!) and whipped up the egg white by hand (before you know it I'll be making my own mayonnaise), added a little melted chocolate mixed with sugar and chocolate milk, threw it in the oven and voila...we had a souffle. Or two to be exact. I don't know what all the fuss is about...that was as easy as it gets.

And while last night I wasn't exactly counting my points (as evidenced by the whip cream serving I put on top of the souffle and the wine glasses in the background)...this dessert is a keeper.

Me and Nanny McPhee

2011-01-21T16:18:00.002-05:00

Big boy is about to lose his top tooth. It has been loose for 73 1/4 days (plus or minus an hour). And it won't come out.

So we've been calling him Nanny McPhee.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm looking forward to when he has a big gaping whole in his mouth rather than this snaggle tooth that is giving him a lisp.

Growing up can be so glamorous!!

A long trip to here

2011-01-18T16:08:00.001-05:00

I didn't expect to be so sentimental about the American Veteran's truck that came today to haul away our "no longer needed" items. It's so polite isn't it? They don't want to call it junk...but we all know it is.

Last night, after I got my reminder call that I had agreed to put some stuff out for the truck, I ran around the house trying to collect all the junk...I mean...no longer needed items...that I agreed to donate. To be fair, they called on December 26, when my house looked something like a hoarders episode. So, of course, I thought I could fill 3 truck loads with our junk. But once the wrapping paper was thrown away and the extraneous family members returned to their proper households, I struggled to find a worthwhile amount of goods to give away. I filled one bag of kids clothes, found 2 lampshades I detest and then stalled out.

There had to be more things to give away in this house. So you know what I did...I went to the garage. And I gave away the ping pong table, the Foosball table, the circular saw, the 3 snowboards. NO! Just kidding. If I did that, I might as well have put myself on the curb with them, I would no longer be welcome here.

But what I did find were 2 last remaining strollers in the corner. It was like finding 2 long lost friends. I have been everywhere with those two ladies. One, slender and blue, always went on the the plane, to London, Portugal, Italy, Disney, California...you name it, that lady carried and comforted our kids everywhere. The other...so sturdy and trustworthy. Not appreciated for her looks, but for her speed, grace, and ability to get me out of the house when I was stir crazy. When my second was born, I tried to upgrade to a fancy jogging stroller, but always returned to old big bertha.

I looked at those girls long and hard...thought about how my 3.5 year old hasn't been in a stroller in nearly 12 months, and decided to say goodbye.

So this morning I trekked them out to the bottom of the driveway and left them. Abandoned them. I didn't think anything of it. Until I found myself looking out the window multiple times to see if they were still there. Should I go back and get them? What if we need a stroller? Am I making a mistake?

And then the truck came. And the guys just chucked them into the back of the truck and drove away. The end. And I cried.

Lordy, what the heck is wrong with me? I hope I'm not this emotional because I'm pregnant...because then I've made a mistake...well 2 actually.

What 5am will get you

2011-01-04T19:53:00.004-05:00

Hello blog, it is me Mommystar.

This year I have been REALLY good about going to the gym. I completely recognize in myself that I am a nicer, saner, but not necessarily thinner person if I work out consistently. Unfortunately for me, I need to exercise in the morning, BEFORE the kids get up to go to school, so that leaves me at the gym at 5 am. Pitch black, crickets chirping, please don't let my car break down 5 AM.

And if you are anything like me, I choose my gyms based on their ammenities. And when I say ammenities, I mean towel thread count, TV stations, and child care options. So working out at O'dark-thirty leaves me with nothing. No warm towels, no child care, and no TV. Well sure, there's TV, but do you have any idea what is on at 5am...no, why should you? Nothing but infomercials.

And do you know where that gets me? A $150 workout dvd system that is going to "transform my body" before my very own eyes!. Yup...I'm venturing to do P90x and it is seriously kicking my ass. I've given up the gym for the basement and am tackling the 90 day workout program that should make me look like...

(That's Demi Moore, a P90x user, tweeting a picture of herself)

You know I can't pass up on a good before/after. I want to be an after! And if I ever end up looking like Demi...you can be damn sure I'll be tweeting that picture worldwide. Maybe even a superbowl commercial!

I blame it on Wipeout

2010-08-02T19:46:00.004-04:00

I won't ever have video games in my house. (Blake, c. 1995)

Ha!

That's what I used to shamelessly profess as I watched other children withdraw from social activities to play their DS's, Play Stations, or Atari's. Now look at me. Now I'm screamng from the rooftop...only one hour of Wii today (Blake, c. ten mintes ago).

Ha to the double Ha!

I've completely lost the video game war and apparently I am losing the TV war too. You know how I know? I'll tell you...

Last weekend at a birthday party for a friend of my 6 year old, I offered said son a drink. "Would you like a water, a capri sun, or a juice box?" I asked. And completely straight faced, not even a hint of a joke he said, "No I think I'll take a beer. That Miller Lite would be fine."

And 2 days later when he got over the fact that there were no keg stands to be had at the birthday party, I innocently enough asked what he wanted for dinner and his response was, "Red Lobster." Uhhh...what? (now no offense to people who eat at Red Lobster, but we haven't and I don't even think we have ever driven by one)

So my only assumption is that TV is to blame. And since I seriously doubt that he's watching commercials for Miller Lite and Red Lobster on the Food Network, Bravo, or TLC (I jest, I jest...no need to get self-righteous on me at this point), then the only thing we have to blame is that darn show Wipeout that he and his father love so much.

Seriously, what goes better with hysterically laughing at people on insane, impossible obstacle courses than a cold Miller Lite and an Admiral's Feast?

Dress Code

2010-05-17T20:40:00.003-04:00

I think that it is official. I am screwed.

My little (well, not so little now) boy has thrown me some curve balls but for the most part I can see them coming a mile away. Don't want to leave a friend's house...I anticipate a meltdown. Tired and not getting what you want...I anticipate a meltdown. Don't like the clothes I lay our for you...well, he has never seemed to care. I never really appreciated that until now.

My little girl...well she's a totally different story. I must remind you that she isn't even THREE years old yet. She has hit temper tantrums full force this year and quite honestly, I can deal with them. What transpired today...not so prepared for.

I picked out an outfit for her to wear to school. A pair of capris and a striped shirt. It was cute, it was comfortable, and she has worn it multiple times with no complaints. That was not the case this morning. Her protests were so loud to my wardrobe choices that I think the neighbors 4 houses away could hear the screams of torture at 7 in the morning. It was like I has chosen a prairie dress and a bonnet. We fought, we yelled, my husband intervened and after about 25 minutes and 10 trips to time out she conceded and put on the pants. (she comes by her stubbornness quite honestly!)

As I was walking out the door to take the kids to school, I gave my husband a small high five claiming victory and patted myself on the back for breaking the little girl down.

So wouldn't you know how surprised I was when she came home from school in a DIFFERENT pair of pants. As she walked in the room and I got a look at her, the very first question I asked was not "how was your day honey?" but rather, "where did you get those pants?" And don't you love toddler honesty, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "I didn't like the pants I was wearing so I put these in my bag and my teacher put them on."

So take that Momma. You are so screwed.

Lessons on Mother's Day

2010-05-09T21:09:00.004-04:00

I struggle constantly with the idea of bribing versus positive reinforcement. The big boy is at a point where he REALLY appreciates the value of a dollar...he saves up, rolls pennies, and begs for trips to target to buy legos when he has "earned"enough money.

This morning, being Mother's Day and all, was no different. We were all racing around trying to get dressed for the brunch that I arranged. (mother's day or not, if you want it the way you want it...do it yourself!). A control freak on all fronts, I had already placed the kids' clothes on their beds and was trying to dry my hair and put on a smidge of makeup before we left. And just like every other day, the little girl refused to wear what I put out for her. No amount of "its too cold to wear a sleeveless dress" and "no you can't wear your fleece sweatsuit" was getting through her adorable little head of blond curls. There were tears, tantrums, and fears for what this says about our teen years. Exasperated and desperate to get some concealer on the bags under my eyes worthy of a surcharge at US Airways I offered the big boy three dollars to help her get dressed.

Desperate for a new star wars lego set...he accepted the challenge.

And wouldn't you know it that three minutes later she came bounding into the bathroom with her dress on (albeit backwards) and a big smile on her face.

So for three dollars I learned, all you have to do is take her baby doll away, put it WAY up on the dresser where she can't reach it and tell her she can have it back when she puts her dress on. And viola...her dress is on.

It may be Mother's Day, but I got schooled in mothering by my 5 year old today. I would say he definitely "earned" his money!

Mother of the day.

2010-04-26T18:39:00.005-04:00

Tonight I got a phone call from the little girl's pre-school teacher. I always get a pit in the bottom of my stomach when a teacher calls me. I almost instantaneously ask, "What did she do?" Benefit of the doubt? Not around here.

It turns out that instead of her doing something wrong, I missed our teacher conference today (awesome on my part) and so the teacher was doing a follow-up call to go over her report card. Do I have to remind you that the little girl is 2.5 years old? This pre-school business is apparently serious stuff!

Within the conversation, the teacher described a child that I am not very familiar with (she used adjectives such as friendly, cooperative, helpful, polite...I said, "do you mean smart-assed, flippant, demanding, and devious?). She talked about different activities that our little girl enjoys, skills she has developed and things she should work on over the summer. Seriously, I kid you not, in her bag were worksheets to practice cutting over the summer!

At the end of the conversation, the climax, the highlight, the grand-finale the teacher referenced a self-portrait that the little lady completed. In no less than 20 minutes, she painstakingly described the process that took place to create this self-portrait. I really don't know who was prouder of the work, the girl or the teacher. And after hearing that the teacher had taken the time to frame this self-portrait because she knew I would want to display it I paused. And praying that the coffee grounds weren't on top of the portrait I dug it out of the trashcan and took a look.

So if you think you are going to win Mother of the Day today. Try again, I've got you beat!

The back-handed compliment

2010-02-24T22:10:00.004-05:00

Oh where to begin? Let's just say that after a night of binging on pepperoni pizza and onion rings, I found myself at a Weight Watchers meeting last Saturday. I had a real taste as to what it would be like to be an addict. OK, let's get real. I am an addict...a food addict. And the only support group I rely on is Weight Watchers. So that's exactly where I headed first thing in the morning after my saturated fat and carb bender to get control of my out-of-control eating.

I have joined Weight Watchers approximately 17.45 million times. I try to nod my head politely as the "mentors" go through counting points, weighing food, making good choices,etc. I try not to point out how much has changed since I first joined way back in 1988...and honestly, not that much has changed, not even my weight.

So, as I stepped up to the counter to make my enrollment official, the sweet lady behind the counter asked me sincerely, "Are you sure that you weigh 138 pounds? If you don't you can't join today."

I should probably add here that I am 5'11" and not "small boned" AT ALL. 138 would make me look like Heidi Klum...and let's be really clear, I don't.

This sweet little, and probably senile, lady was worried that I didn't weigh enough to join Weight Watchers. HA!

"uhhh...yes I am sure." I said, trying not to laugh in her face at her obvious sight problems. Blindness maybe?

I then proceeded to step on the scale.

As the lovely, senile, blind, and now suffering from turrets woman behind the counter looked at my weight (only seen by her) she then gasps, stands on her tip toes to peer over the counter and looks me up and down about 10 times.

"Yes you do." she says. "I should have looked closer. If I had looked closer I can definitely tell you weigh enough. You certainly do."

Uh, thanks. I think?

2010-02-12T15:48:00.003-05:00

SnOMG. I can't take this anymore.

This blizzard is killing me.

And for the first time in 12 days, I am not talking about my children. They aren't driving me crazy, I don't feel like locking them outside in the sub-zero weather, and I am no longer running away from them and hiding in the basement closet with the furnace just to get a minute alone. (this may because they are both currently napping)

If life doesn't get back to normal soon, I am going to be a contestant on next season's Biggest Loser. And while I love a good before and after, I'm not much for public weigh-ins.

I was so prepared for round one of this blizzard. I hit the HT, recipes in hand, stocked up on healthy fare, fresh fruit and veggies, prepared well-rounded meals, and was so proud of my preparation and follow through of my menu planning. I was a regular June Cleaver. I even donned an apron once or twice.

But you know what? These kids demand to be fed THREE times a day PLUS snacks. That's a lot of food, people. And they can't seem to do anything for themselves. "mommy can I have a snack?" "mommy, I'm hungry" "mommy, I'm thirsty" "mommy, is it dinner time?" THREE times a day PLUS snacks.

So when round two rolled around, I had had enough. No more Julia Childs for me...it was all Little Debbie. So this week we have had orange fingers from the doritos, chocolate in the corner of our mouths from the tollhouse cookies, and dishes caked with old queso strewn throughout the house. It is getting SO old.

I realized this morning that the situation was getting dire as I was being lapped at the gym by the senior sneakers. I recommit to a healthy life for me and my family...right after I finish this tube of Pringles. Yummmm.

Snowtopia

2010-02-09T20:53:00.003-05:00

Please, let us not address the more than 2 months since I last logged on. I lost my Mommystar mojo. I don't know what happened. Well, actually, nothing happened. Nothing that I could spin into a funny little tale, a witty little story, or a minor little exaggeration.

But seriously, if I can't find something to write about while locked in the house for what feels like the 14th day in a row, dreaming of the days when I could go to work to change diapers on 10 kids who ALL poop daily, then I really should just abandon my blog all together.

Tonight we're entering our 2nd major snowstorm in less than 5 days. And coming from a girl who went to school in Maine, these are major storms. 30" last Friday and another 12-18" tonight. I love a good snow storm, but this is getting ridiculous. The streets aren't plowed, schools are closed, and my kids won't leave me alone.

The cabin fever got so bad yesterday that a friend and I rejoiced that Target AND Chic-Fil-A were both open. We made a date to meet there with the kids and wander the aisles browsing the pool supplies, bathing suits, and patio furniture. (really, you should go to a Target and ask for a sled...it gets a GREAT reaction!). When I got home 3 hours later my husband asked where we had gone. "to Target and Chi-fil-a" I replied. "The WHOLE time?" "Yes, for 3.5 hours, you got a problem with that?"

Tonight, that same friend came over because supposedly her dryer is broken and she needed to dry some pajamas and underwear. I wasn't fooled, she just needed to get out of the house. I don't blame her, tomorrow I'm going out for bird feed, I'm afraid the birds will be hungry in this snowstorm.

I know this storm is monumental, we'll remember it for the rest of our lives, talk about Snowmageddon 2010, Snowtorious B.I.G., and snOMG every winter when they forecast snowfall. But what I'm really hoping we don't remember is that this was the winter that I drank myself blotto and passed out in a snowbank, let my kids go sledding into the stream without supervision, or hid in the closet and cried until March.

The sun will come out tomorrow right?

Holiday traditions

2009-11-24T18:21:00.002-05:00

We're packing up and heading to Jersey for Thanksgiving.

North on 95 may be the last place I want to be this week, but it has become a tradition. I think this may be the 34th year that I've done this traffic dance, weighing Wednesday night vs. Thursday morning. Coming home on Saturday vs. coming home on Sunday. Make my food contributions here vs. make my food there. It feels completely normal to drive north to Jersey for turkey day. I'll love it and hate it all at the same time. Just like I do every year.

But what I'll miss are the games that we used to play in the car when I was a kid. Every Thanksgiving day, my parents would get us up early, shove us into the station wagon and head to my grandparents house. The only thing that got me into the car those mornings was the gambling that would take place driving to the feast.

We'd all ante up and play two games on the way to my grandparents. The first was Hear and Name the First Christmas Carol. We would tune into the local public radio station, listen intently and pray that Jingle Bells was the first carol that would come on. Inevitably two hours into the drive some obscure religious hymn would come on that only my father could name and he would win. And also inevitable the next song that would come on would be Jingle Bells.

The second game had much better odds for my sister and me to wine while cruising in the back seat. It was See the First Truck of Christmas Trees. All you had to do was shout out that you saw the truck brimming full of fresh cut Frasier Firs, confirm it with someone else in the car, and the money pot was yours. False alarms of trucks with tires, yard debris, and even livestock were tolerated but eventually one of us would spot a truck full of those tightly wrapped trees heading to some strip mall to be sold for a small fortune, and we ourselves would win a couple of dollars.

I loved these games, I loved how they helped pass the time in the car, and of course I loved making a few extra bucks before the holidays! But these games can no longer exist. Christmas carols have been playing since mid-October. We have satellite radio and can tune into a channel that plays them exclusively 24/7 from Halloween until valentine's day. And on top of that, the title of every song as well as the artist that sings the song runs in ticker-tape style along our radio. In addition, decorations have been out since before daylight savings time and I am sure that the Christmas tree farms have been selling their trees since election day. Seriously???What has happened to the time when we waited until December to decorate? Where is our self-control? Have we forgotten that too much of a good thing eventually loses its appeal?

Maybe that's what I should be reminding myself as we head to Jersey again for Thanksgiving. That too much of a good thing eventually loses its appeal...noooo, that can't be the answer...I like Jersey and christmas decorations too much for that to be the solution!

H1Nwhat?

2009-11-13T19:57:00.000-05:00

Have you heard? There's this wacky sickness going around called H1N1.

It has come to my attention not because I watch tv, listen to NPR, or talk to other people, but because I am surrounded by my children or in a school 24/7. My kids go to 3 different schools, take 3 different classes, and I work in a school filled with students who belong to families with similar schedules. Imagine the germ cross contamination that is going on. As a result, each time someone coughs, sneezes, or whistles a little funny everyone takes a deep breath, takes two steps backward, and thinks "OMG they have swine flu!" No one wants to get this flu, and people are taking action.

Never in my life did I think that I would get up wait in line for something at 6am in the morning that didn't involve live music and a night on the town. But no...I got up at 5am to get a number at the health clinic so my kids could get the H1N1 vaccine 5 hours later. Did they thank me? No...those freakin' ingrates.

It really has become crazy. I was actually afraid to say out loud that I had a cold last week because I thought that people would think that I had the flu. I muffled my cough, discreetly blew my nose, and didn't complain at all (that was the hardest part of the whole cold!) And in fact, 5 days later, my husband confessed that for a while he thought I had the swine flu because I was coughing. What? Since when did a cough = flu?? This pandemic has made us crazy.

What really emphasized how crazy we have all become about this was my son. He gets a "treat" each week for good behavior at school, and last week he asked for his treat to be hand sanitizer. Really...you think anti-bacterial wash is something that you have to wait for, to earn...if you aren't good, I'm not going to give it to you and you can get the flu? I don't think so. I talked him off the H1N1 ledge, gave him some hand sanitizer, just because. I'm crazy like that.

I hope we can move on from the great H1N1. I know it is out there, I know people are going to get it. But is it really the plague? Should I really be this worked up about it? I don't know, but I did go to Costco to get the hand sanitizer, so I think we're good for this flu season!

I really want to be here

2009-11-11T19:53:00.002-05:00

I SO want to blog again. But you see...I'm a working woman now. I work TWELVE hours a week, and it is exhausting. Oh, lord, you have no idea..my friend who works SIX hours a week at her gym totally understands. The demands of being a mom AND working at the same time are just too much. After working 4 hours each day, for three days in a row...I really have no energy left to write.

And that's my excuse. But...you might also want to believe that all I want to do is write about the crazy kids that I teach, and that would be wrong...wouldn't it??? Or would it?

What to do when it rains for 5 days straight

2009-10-18T15:34:00.004-04:00

I recently told my friend that if the weather is bad outside, she should head over to my house. You see, I have this Pavlovian response to dark days, cold weather, and being cooped up inside and MUST cook.

It really isn't that bad of a vice. Cooking is good right? I got to make some carrot muffins for the kids for their lunches to compensate for the gummy "fruit" snacks they also get. I've also made meatballs, lasagna, french toast, steak stuffed with goat cheese and caramelized onions, and cookies.

The down side to all of this is that since the weather has been so nasty, I only worked out once last week. So if I am what I eat. I am fat! (but happy!) And I digress...

So yesterday we had one of our boy's friends over for an extended playdate. And while we usually take the kids outside for scootering, biking, hiking, and climbing...yesterday we were completely stranded in the house. And even 5 year olds have a limit for how much Wii they can play.

So we made Halloween cookies and decorated them.

It has been raining for so long, I think my brain was starting to melt, because I am the WORST cookie decorator. I was once uninvited to a Christmas cookie decorating party because I had to throw more cookies out than keep. But for some reason I thought I would try with the boys. And here is how they turned out:

I bet you can't even tell which ones I decorated. I told you I was bad. And you'll also be relieved to know that it is no longer raining, so I can stop the cooking madness.

Just another lazy Sunday

2009-10-04T19:45:00.005-04:00

I don't know about you, but I am SO tired of making lunches already. Seriously, if I have to look at another sandwich ziploc, bag of pretzels, or cheesestick again, I might just start sending my boy in with money to buy "healthy lunches" of fried cheese sticks with marinara sauce (they have the nerve to count the sauce as a vegetable serving...really?). OK...it isn't getting that bad, but each day that passes I have more and more respect for my sister-in-law who makes lunch for her 5 kids...EVERY F-ING DAY...I have no idea how she does it.

So in an effort to make lunch a little more interesting, last weekend I tried to bake a spiced apple bread to put in with the turkey sandwich and the hard boiled egg. Well...spice it up is exactly what I did. Never one for understatement, I decided that not only would we enjoy this bread, but so would two friends who recently had babies. So I made 3 batches, threw them in the oven, and went to my computer to get started on my online grocery order for the week. 45 minutes later I checked on my bread and this is what I found:

Seriously, if I don't have the knack for making the turkey sandwich and egg look good, I don't who does. These were the most disgusting, gooey, burnt, and foul smelling breads I have ever cooked. And the added bonus was that they overflowed out of their pans onto the bottom of my oven.

So I did what any half-assed cook in the middle of a lazy Sunday afternoon would do. I closed the oven and hit the self-clean button. Why else did I pay a million dollars for my awesome oven if it can't clean itself?

So I returned to my computer to finish my shopping, peruse a little people.com, and return some emails when my husband comes running in. I immediately knew something was up since he rarely leaves his chair on football Sundays. He alerted me to the pouring of smoke coming from the ovens, into the kitchen, and throughout the house. Turns out that you are supposed to clean off the bottom of the oven before hitting self-clean. Ooops.

After a minute of smoke inhalation, a stop-drop-and roll exercise, and a quick trip to the garage for the fire extinguisher, we turned off the oven and started to believe that the house was not going to burn down. I then headed out open a few more windows and when I come back, this is what I found.

Turns out he did what any half-assed football fan on a lazy Sunday would do and got back to the task at hand.

We're nothing if we're not lazy and half-assed around here!

Don't knock it til you try it

2009-09-22T18:37:00.002-04:00

I sit here writing on my blog for the first time since uh...well...a LONG time. It really is boring where I have been...so I won't even go there. But as I FINALLY get back to my blog, I drink my vodka tonic and wonder could this be a better deal?

You see, my husband and I like (read:need) to divy up the children responsibilities 50/50. Neither of us likes to feel that the other is getting a better deal/ easier duties and we all know that in the case of child rearing the poop always stinks less on the other side of the room.

So...we alternate in EVERYTHING. Bath, morning duty, soccer practice, nights out with friends...and it works out fantastic.

Sure it somewhat stinks when it is my night for bath and bedtime and my husband retreats to his craigslist search for something that "is a really great deal" but it all works out on nights like tonight where I get to pour myself a drink after dinner and listen to bath and bedtime from afar. If I were to ever give parenting advice...this would be it.

Because nothing makes me happier than my son yelling to me to help him with his Wii and knowing that I can rightly ignore him.

See why I shouldn't give parenting advice??

Julie, Julia, and me

2009-08-21T13:27:00.008-04:00

Last night I had the immense pleasure of seeing Julie & Julia. I think you may have to be living underneath a rock to not know the story so do I really have to give a synopsis? (watch the trailer if you are in fact a Fraggle and don't know what I am talking about)

OMG, this movie was talking directly to me. I think I knew that it was love at first sight when, as Julia Childs was struggling with what her next career/life step would be and her husband asked what she liked to do, her response was, "I like to EAT" Amen Julia. I couldn't have said it better myself.

For two hours I sat on the edge of my seat (no, it is not a thriller unless you consider the success of an aspic suspenseful) trying not to be the ultimate cliche in relating to each and every story line they presented. Super tall girl married to a shorter man. Yup. Mundane career by day, blogger by night. Yup. Love of butter and red wine. Double Yup. Stuck in my thirties not really knowing what direction to go. Yup. Complete satisfaction in cooking and desire to make it a career. Yup to the izo.

When I got home from the movie, I immediately went to amazon.com and found myself buying Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Luckily, they did not serve alcohol at our movie theater or I also would have signed up for a Cordon Bleu class that they were advertising at the bottom of the page along with buy a Le Creseut French Oven for your Boeuf Bourguignon and some fresh, delivered to your doorstep liver pate. Seriously, thank god I was sober or we would be taking out a second mortgage today to finance my early to mid-life crisis.

Instead, today I am going to buy a couple of pounds of butter, tackle a Chocolate Roulade and a Beur Blanc and call it a night.

I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about this movie for some time. I have complete admiration of these two women who stuck it out, persevered with what they loved, and found success. I'm not sure the "I like to EAT" declaration is going to get me to my next step...but eventually I'll find mine. And in the meantime, I'm just going to adopt Julia Childs' thoughts:

"The only real stumbling block is fear of failure...you've got to have a what-the-hell attitude."

No more meatballs in the bongo

2009-08-18T18:28:00.002-04:00

I'm not really sure how it all started. But usually with me it just takes one small idea to take hold, then fester, next it grows, mutates, and attaches itself to me so that I can no longer function without completing this one small idea. The ideas range from Sleep away camp in Vermont, 1987 to Highlights and Haircut 2006. Some of the ideas are good (camp) while some are questionable (highlights). But innocently enough while spending my summer at the pool I was given the idea that now was the time to potty train my barely 2 year old daughter. And after a gestation period of a few weeks, a couple of google searches, and one illegal forward of "Potty Training in 3 Days," we were off.

Now, when I say we, I really mean the little girl and me. Because let me be the first to tell you that no one else around here was any help AT ALL. When I say he didn't do shit. Well, he didn't do pee or shit. Nothing. OK...maybe I am exaggerating a little bit now. There were the few times when she yelled, "Mommy I need to go potty" and he looked around for me to be sure I would go with her. And there was also the time that he took her upstairs only to put her in a diaper...yeah, that's helping.

But have no fear, I did not let one reluctant parent stand in my way. And after 4 days of mistakes, spending nearly 79 hours on the floor of the potty, 17 rounds of singing wheels on the bus, and one Costco load of Clorox wipes, my little girl got the hang of it. There's no turning back now!

And let's be honest, there's not real point to this post. It is just that I want to scream with joy that we're diaper free and potty trained, that I was right and as she always tells you... "there are no more meatballs in the bongo."

Amen.

Man Cold

2009-08-03T19:43:00.002-04:00

Seriously, if I don't seem my normal chipper sarcastic self this week...I'll tell you why. We're suffering a man cold over here. Oh...funny you should ask...we're also potty training. Coincidence? You do the math.

I was referred to this video to let me see just what I was in for this weekend. A fairly accurate portrayl I must say.

Man cold...well I've got a Woman headache if you know what I mean!

Say what?

2009-07-29T20:22:00.002-04:00

So at his 5th birthday well-visit, my little boy failed his hearing test. I didn't think too much of it at the time. I mean seriously...his sister was singing Diego in his other ear, I think the boy next door was getting 45 shots into his eyeball, and I was talking on my cell phone to someone in a tunnel trying to secure a place for him in the summer camp. So when he couldn't hear the four "tones" in his ear, I really thought another try with less distraction would yield the necessary results.

But when we went back before the office opened with no sister, no cell, and no shots and we still failed...I started to freak out.

Google...not my friend in this case.

Degenerative hearing, developmental delays, sign language, surgery...and that was just the first 100 hits...I could go on and on and on (it has been nearly 2 months you see, and I haven't been blogging because I have been googling...it has been UGLY).

My friends tried to convince me that there was no hearing loss, that he was fine, that the test was just administered improperly, but I couldn't quite buy it. You know how when you stare at those pictures long enough and you see unicorns jumping out at you. Well I was seeing deaf unicorns.

When he didn't hear me ask him to make his bed...hearing loss.
When he didn't hear me ask him to take his dishes to the sink...hearing loss.
When he spoke WAY too loud at the pool...hearing loss.

So today we went to the otolaryngologist (it is a word...just google it!) to have him properly tested. I have never been so nervous in my life. I sat outside the room trying not to throw up on the nice 80 year old woman having her hearing aid fitted and resisting the urge to stick my ear up against the door to see if he was saying "beep" enough times. Finally, the audiologist came out and told me he was fine.

What a huge wave of relief. He can hear. I guess we always knew that. So I said my thank yous, paid my $16,000 copay to see a specialist and headed home.

And as I was driving home, I realized I forgot to ask a question, "if he can hear fine, then why can't he hear me when I ask him to make his bed and put his dishes away. And why does he always seem to be yelling at me?"

And then it dawned on me...seems I didn't need to go to a specialist to learn the answer to those questions. They were answered at the first visit...his 5 Year Old well-visit. Should have googled that and I would have saved myself some time and a mortgage payment.

A birthday to remember

2009-06-29T20:21:00.003-04:00

I really can't believe my little girl is two. Apparently she is as distraught as I am over the fact that she is getting so old. just wait until 34 girl...that really hurts.

But, again, just like her mom, nothing cheers the birthday girl up like a little Juicy Juice cocktail.

And nothing makes me laugh harder than listening to the scissor wielding father bitch and moan about how "they are going to ruin her hair if they plaster it down like this" while freeing Ariel from her container.

And if you thought she wasn't really my daughter, you are certain she is when she asks for blueberry pancakes and sausage for her birthday dinner. (yes, there are only 4 of us in the family...don't judge!)

With a Duncan Hines cupcake chaser. That's my girl.

Really, sometimes I think I could just eat her up for dinner.
Well, actually both of them when they act like this.

Happy Birthday sweet girl. For as cute as you are, you have 10 times more personality. And that is what makes you so special. We love you.

Looking for a hobby

2009-06-18T08:31:00.003-04:00

So my husband has decided that he is going to be a biker. No, not the kind that revs their engine at 7am in your neighborhood and wears all sorts of leather apparel even when it is 100 degrees outside. The kind that wears spandex, whizes past your as you are running your measly 9 minute miles, and tip tap across the floor in Shirley Temple shoes...that kind of biker.

So, being frugal as he is, he has spent the better part of the last month on craigslist looking for the perfect bike. Only to be gazumped by someone else who understands the rules of Internet sales a little better than my husband who only started to use email in 2004. But alas, he got a bike for "a really great deal, hon!" So then he moved on to finding the perfect pair of shoes. Now this venture I can't complain about too much since he took the cranky, whining, needy, highly annoying daughter with him on Sunday morning to go buy his extra wide, purple tap shoes and they were gone for hours. No complaints here...that was money well spent.

But as he was gone, I spent the better part of the time imagining all the time that he was going to spend on his bike, alone, on the weekends, enjoying the fresh air, being by himself, getting exercise, did I mention his solitary status? By the time he got home, I was a bit worked up, and the first thing I said was, "I need a hobby too."

Sure I run, I go to the gym, I blog, I write, I cook, I eat...but I was thinking more like a hobby that would get me some well deserved solitary time outside, get me skinny with super svelte legs, and let me prance around in tap shoes like I always wanted.

And you know what he says?

Please hold onto your seats ladies and gentlemen...

"I thought manicures and pedicures were your hobby."

Uhhh...that is maintenance buddy...like getting an oil change. You don't consider getting an oil change a hobby do you?

Then he said,

"I thought facebook was your hobby."

As I slammed the door when I left the room he asked innocently, "Did I say something wrong?"

So I'll just tell you, that as he strapped on his purple tap shoes to go on his inaugural bike ride and he threw out his back and has not been able to ride his bike since.

I'll tell you what is definitely not my future hobby...sympathy.

Just so we don't forget about her

2009-06-16T14:17:00.003-04:00

I feel like I talk about the big boy all the time with little reference to his little sister. With the boy, we took videos of him all the time and made movies, birthday tributes, and valentine's day songs...but with her...she's lucky if I light the candle for her birthday cake! Thankfully, my father got a new camera for his birthday and can now share his videos.

So without further ado...here is the little girl singing happy birthday to her brother.

Birthday Hangover

2009-06-11T19:11:00.002-04:00

It finally happened. The big boy turned 5.

You know what happens when a boy turns 5? Nothing. Well...ok...maybe not nothing.

But did he start making his bed? no. Did he start doing the dishes? no. Did he start folding the laundry? no. But then again, it was HIS birthday, not mine.

But I swear, for an event that supposedly only lasts 24 hours this thing started about 3 months ago (when he turned "four and three-quarters) and I think it may have finally ended yesterday (5 days later). And I have no one to blame but myself.

I love birthdays, I really do. And there is no doubt that I love my kids. So put those two things together and it comes as not surprise that I tend to overdo it. Cupcakes at school. Special dinner and watching The Empire Strikes Back at night. Party two days later, followed by dinner with the whole family. And did I mention the presents? And the Star Wars theme to the whole week? Good God Darth Vader, stab me with a light saber and make the whole thing over. What was I thinking?

It was actually all good until Monday. That's when the hungover hit be over the head like 2 bottles of Merlot. In the car, on the way to the gym to work off all that naturally colored orange icing, the big boy asked me when he was going to get to see his friends that couldn't come to his party. I thought...that is so sweet, he misses them, let's invite them over. But no, that's not what he meant. He continued on to say...because I am sure they have a present for me, and I want to to get them before we go away to the beach.

Awesome...I'm so proud of that statement.

And then on Tuesday, with a straight face, he asked me how many days until Christmas.

And so you see, I thought I had a birthday hangover, but today I have a real one. Because instead of saying, "Are you fu^%*ng kidding me?" I downed a bottle of vodka.

Yes, it's true, I am in the running for mother of the year, but I haven't called them back yet because my head hurts too much!

Itsy bitsy etsy

2009-05-26T18:59:00.002-04:00

Do you know about this site?

etsy.com

I am 100% addicted

Did you know that you can get Star Wars Lego shirts there? You can...just look (you can also get Star Wars Lego earrings for that matter, but I thought maybe that was too much for the 5th birthday party!)

Did you know that you can get embroidered/ monogrammed diaper covers there. You can...just look

Now I know, my examples are slightly limited to a 2 year old girl and a 5 year old boy...but there is more...so much more. And it is all made by people, in their homes (mostly) and sold directly from them. I LOVE it. In fact, a good friend has her artwork up here and I admire her for creating her work and selling it.

But seriously, if you need something unique, you can probably find it here. At least I can, because I have an itsy etsy problem.

And don't even DARE coming to the 5th birthday party in a Chewy Lego t-shirt. That would be SO wrong!

Pool Update

2009-05-26T18:50:00.002-04:00

It is still there.

The county has been there.

The HOA has been there.

And the landscapers have been there. No, I'm not kidding. People that have that pool in their front yard also have landscapers that come and mow their grass. AND weed whack around the pool. We wouldn't want any weeds to grow up the sides, would we. That would make it look bad.

But it is still there.

I've been offered a pellet gun with a silencer, a hunting knife, and a bow and arrow (I live in Virginia remember, these are normal household items!) but really, I'm a pacifist and wish that thing would just go away on its own. Maybe if I throw a dead raccoon in it??

Culinary Skills, what?

2009-05-07T19:38:00.001-04:00

I really try to be a good cook for my family. I really enjoy making meals, serving them, and I REALLY love when everyone tells me how good my food is.

So tonight we're sitting down to eat roast chicken with smashed potatoes and a garlic gravy when the doorbell rings.

What does my daughter (22 months old) say?

"Pii-ha" "Pii-ha"

That's pizza for those of you who don't speak 22 month-ese.

WTF? Thanks girl, glad you like the food.

Where have I been you ask?

2009-05-05T14:27:00.004-04:00

I've gone MIA, I admit it. (I also think that I have started my last 10 entries the same way)

It might be because I'm starting a small business (bilingual Spanish/English preschool). I've been hosting open houses, going to conferences, and brushing up on my arts and crafts skills. So writing this blog has fallen by the wayside. After working, feeding the kids, getting them to bed, and slugging down a bottle of wine, I just can't seem to find the time to blog.

OR...

It might be because my neighbors got a swimming pool and we've been spending all of our time over there relaxing, playing, and perfecting our butterfly. I know...how awesome is that? Right next door. Can't you just picture it?

Well, that would be nice, but this is really what cropped up next door. Right in their front yard. Right in our direct line of sight. Right where my kids can skip over and drown their little bodies.

Do you see now why I need to down a bottle of wine every night? And you thought your property value went down? Just be glad you don't live next to this!

And for the record, I had to sneak out at 6am to take these pictures because they are ALWAYS in the pool. 5 of them, just hanging out, trying to swim, but constantly stepping on each other's toes, screaming and laughing and oblivious to the eyesore they have left us with. AND...we haven't gotten an invitation to swim in that germ infested, pee-bowl.

Is it just me or...

2009-04-20T18:44:00.003-04:00

When Paul from the Fraternal Order of Police calls do you tend to be nicer to him than any other telemarketer that would have the nerve to call at 6:30pm? The other suspects would barely even get through the mispronunciation of my name before I stated my distaste for calls during the dinner hour (but really I have a distaste for them at ALL hours), but when Paul calls, I feel like I need to be polite.

It went something like this...

Mrs. Kanoo?

Uh, I guess

This is Paul from the Fraternal Order of Police (aka Telemarketing City, I get paid $5/hour to make these calls) and first we would like to remind you and your family to never drink and drive. (Especially after you have spent a night with friends from your pre-kids days, and you think that one last glass of red wine isn't going to matter and we have that road block set up right on the corner of you neighborhood.)

OK...now he has my attention.

So Mrs. Kanoo, it is in these difficult time that we really need your help.

Oh Paul, you had me and then lost me again SO quickly. We don't have any money and if we did...well, I just won't go there. But I can't just hang up on him...can I? He's from THE Fraternal Order of Police.

Paul...I interrupt...I really appreciate you calling but...I am home alone with two kids trying to wrangle them in the bath, so it is a really bad time. (a really bad time because see, really I'm downstairs enjoying a glass of wine while my husband does all the heavy lifting in the bath tonight)

Sure thing ma'am, have a nice night. (I know your address, your phone, your family statistics...don't even bother trying to call 911...we know what a freak you are when it comes to emergencies.)

Am I right, or am I right?

A follow up

2009-04-17T15:01:00.002-04:00

My husband is wonderful. Really. I mean that. But that doesn't mean a girl can't poke some fun every once in a while. And while he doesn't exactly read my blog, enough of our family reads it and heckled him on his last feeble attempt to give me some free time that you think he might have learned his lesson.

Or not.

Last weekend, at my in-laws house at the beach, I was given two options and allowed to choose which one I wanted:

Honey, he said with a giant smile on his face how about I give the kids a bath and you can just deal with the cable guy.

And in case you are someone like say...my mom...who always gives the person the benefit of the doubt (in this case, assuming that he is trying to strike a deal to his advantage). It was QUITE clear that he thought he was doing me a HUGE favor by giving the kids a bath while allowing me to follow the cable guy around the house trying to figure out why none of the TV's worked only to figure out that the power cords on ALL the cable boxes weren't working (only in New Jersey and only with Comcast!). So you know what I said?

Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather give the kids a bath. Wait...did I really just say that? Must be the Jersey sea air that is making me a bit crazy...and him too for that matter!

Urghh ER

2009-04-14T20:13:00.006-04:00

We've been to the ER a fair amount of times with our boy. And let me tell you, I don't do very well when looking crisis right in the eye. I cry, I hyperventilate, then I find my husband and hope he can deal.

First, there was the time that a piggy bank mysterious feel from the sky and donked him in the head. ** He had a cut on his head, it bled...it was his head...but in hindsight I should have known that it wasn't life threatening (in fact I should have known that a good old band aid would probably have done the job). So what do I do? Yup...I called 911. And as I was talking to the nice lady on the other end of the line and getting frustrated that all she wanted to know was if I needed an ambulance while I only wanted her to tell me if the pediatrician gave stitches, I took a few breaths, stopped bawling my eyes out, and realized I was over reacting just a wee-bit.

And then there was the time that he fell at the pool and we thought he broke his leg. That was...of course...until the nurse on the phone was asking me if he could put pressure on his foot as my boy was hopping on one foot (the injured foot) around the kitchen. So, you guessed it, no broken leg either.

So this weekend, our reaction to our little girl taking a tumble should come as no surprise. Don't get me wrong, the tumble she took was no joke. Head over heals, head bumping along the way, 15 steps down, and to add insult to injury, it was on yellow shag carpeting from 1980. I can't even accurately tell you what happened from there, I just know she had a bump the size of a large egg on her head and before I could say Natasha Richardson, we were in the car to the ER. But also in typical fashion, by the time we got to the ER we recognized that we were over-reacting a bit. And as we looked a the full waiting room, we wondered just how much we were over-reacting. And by they time the got us back to a "room" to see the Doctor, I think it is safe to say we knew she wasn't really hurt. Otherwise, I can't imagine we would have been taking pictures.

Long story short, she's fine and I'm getting better.

As we were driving home, my husband applauded me for not crying. I think he just didn't see the tears streaming down my face once the whole ordeal was over.

**maybe, just maybe, the true story is that I placed the piggy bank on top of the changing table and it rolled off and smacked the poor boy right in his big fat noggin.

One more thing

2009-03-31T21:52:00.001-04:00

I also promise to NEVER have an egg hunt for 80+ kids and not have enough eggs. And if I ever did that, I might acknowledge that something went wrong and apologize to the 40 or so parents who were trying to console their crying children because they didn't find any eggs.

What a cluster f*&^.

The first of my promises

2009-03-31T21:18:00.005-04:00

When I have my own preschool I promise:

To NEVER make your child take home a stuffed animal, pretend he is real, brush his teeth, take him to birthday parties, and make a photo album about the experience.

Why? you ask.

Because it is a MAJOR pain in the rear-end for all involved. And embarrassing to boot.

Even the little boy was over it by the end of the first afternoon...see?

I mean seriously. My almost 5 year old carried around this mangy monkey the whole weekend and I carried around the camera in order to document everything they did together. And this weekend...lordy...what didn't we do? Birthday parties, t-ball, egg hunts, grandparents visit...and the whole time I had to pretend like it was normal for my boy to carry around a stuffed animal and for me to talk about him like he was a member of the family...it was weird. But I did it. All in the name of not being the lamest parent in preschool.

Of course, I'm probably still the lamest parent in preschool because it seems like everyone else likes to have the monkey. Me...not so much. I couldn't wait to give him back this morning. Unfortunately, I left the dirty, ant-ridden (we had a bit of an outbreak and I was once found trying to pick the ants out of his "hair"...who says I didn't care for him?) toy at home and had to make an extra trip back to school so that Max didn't miss snack.

As my son pointed out at one point this weekend (I think it was somewhere between brushing his teeth and having him rinse and spit), "it is just a stuffed animal after all."

Buh-bye Max.

It's Official

2009-03-31T21:11:00.003-04:00

I'm going back to work. The perfect opportunity has fallen into my lap and so we have:

The Tiny Explorers

A bilingual preschool (Spanish and English) for children aged 18 months to 3 years. Learning and exploring the world through language and play.

I'm SUPER excited about all of this, so excuse the shameless self-promotion. And think of all the crazy stories I'll be able to share next year!

He wasn't the only one who learned something

2009-03-25T21:12:00.006-04:00

This weekend we headed to the beach. A change of scenery was in order and nothing says heaven like a beach house with orange shag carpeting. It was perfect. No need to do yard work, no tball practices to go to, and no birthday parties. It was calm, it was quiet, and it was relaxing.

That is until, of course, the little boy decided NOW was the time he would learn to ride his bike without training wheels. He is four and three quarters, after all.

My husband tried for about 3.2 seconds to help the boy. A little bit of yelling, a little bit of tears, and a lot of stubborn personalities crashing in the fresh Jersey beach air, and he was out. So I stepped up to the plate.

I'm the calmer one. The more patient parent. The one who yells, "stop being such a wuss!" Uh...what...bet you didn't see that one coming, did you? It just came out of my mouth. Somewhere between "pedal faster!", "stop leaning damn it!", and "are you trying to kill me?" I swear, something jumped in my body, took over, and made me the nasty stage mom I never thought I would be. Sing louder Louise.

But a couple of deep breaths, a swig of a very strong drink, and my husband with the video camera recording every minute of the experience WITH THE VOLUME ON, I pulled myself together. And so did the little boy. And next thing I know he was off to the boardwalk to get a hoagie and a tatoo (we were in Jersey after all!)

Mission accomplished.

Obama Arms

2009-03-13T21:17:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine from college today put on her facebook status update, "I'm working on my Obama arms."

I knew instantly what she meant. Those sculpted, toned, always in a sleeveless dress arms that make me drool and lift 10 more reps when I'm at the gym. I want those arms too.

Earlier this week I read an article by Maureen Dowd in the New York Times that brought up the idea that people thought that Michelle Obama should cover up her arms. Enough already, they said. We've seen "thunder and lightening," she should cover up already. (if you have been living under a rock for the past 3 years, her arms are quite the toned arms, the envy of many!)

Uhhh...what???? Are we not in 2009?

Michelle Obama is a mom, a Harvard graduate, a multi-tasker, the first lady, and the inspiration to millions of women around the world. Why should she cover up her arms? They are just one more reason why I love her. Many people think that her husband Barack is an inspiration to all because he allows many people believe that they too can be president one day. Well...you know what???...I'm not one of those people. I never thought or will think that I can be president.

But I look at Michelle Obama and I think...I can be that mom. A good example, a volunteer, a compassionate and supportive partner, and a hot mama...I can be her.

Michelle...you hear me...don't you dare fall prey to the critics. Don't cover up those arms. Just like the education and degrees you have worked so hard for and show with pride. Flash those puppies, wear those sleeveless dresses, and give me inspiration each time I go to the gym.

I'm off in the morning to work on my Obama arms. Are you going to join me?

Watching the World Go By

2009-03-09T19:32:00.002-04:00

I've been doing a lot of staring out the window lately. Mostly because, until lately, it has been too damn cold to go outside and I have been dreaming about warm spring days where we all can play outside. I see visions of kids on bicycles, kites flying, scooter riding, soccer playing, dog ball throwing...and of course, me with a seasonal margarita in hand. A week ago when we had six inches of snow, an injured back, and a puking kid...the dream seemed out of reach. But you know what?? This weekend my dream came true, well at least most of it.

This weekend it was finally nice out. We opened up the doors, windows, dusted off the kids Crocs, and headed outside to get some fresh air. I got the bikes out of the garage, pumped up the soccer balls, scraped the leaves and dirt out of the swing. threw the ball to the dog, and whipped up a batch of margaritas, followed up with a martini chaser. You know what was missing? The kids.

Well...OK...the little girl was game to swing, roll in the dirt, and eat the dog's tennis ball...but we couldn't find the boy ANYWHERE. Where was he?

Then I looked out the front door again and there he was. Sitting on the steps watching the boys next door (ages 8 and 11). I asked him,

Do you want to bike? play soccer? fly a kite? walk the dog? drink my margarita?

No, no, and no thank you, was his response. (we have been reading Miss Manners around here after all)

So what do you want to do? I asked.

I just want to sit here and watch the boys next door. Maybe they'll ask me to play today.

Now, I didn't want to run the risk of watering down my drink, but I swear there were tears in my eyes. His desperation to be older, to play with the big kids, to wish time away. It made me so sad and made me swear to never wish away time again....it is already going too fast.

Need some wine to whine

2009-03-02T20:21:00.002-05:00

I've been really struggling to blog lately. It's not that I don't have things to say...lord no...that is hardly the case. But I get in front of the computer, log in, and then I just don't really feel up to story telling. OH...I SO want to tell you about selling the damn Bronco and how my lovely husband forgot to come home from work in time to settle up with the 6'5" burly mountain man that bought the truck. How he handed my thousands of dollars in cash and then couldn't get the car to start. My husband's other car was blocking the Bronco in, and when I went to move it, its battery was dead. So I had to put it in neutral and let it coast down the driveway. Did I mention the 6'5" mountain man, beard down to his chest, gentleman in my kitchen with my two young kids? Eventually the Bronco started, the very sweet and gentle mountain man (he played star wars with the boy as I hunted for the title of the car) drove away and I threw the kids into the car and sped my way to happy hour.

On my way home from happy hour, after telling the Bronco story to all my friends...including how he arrived in a Toyota Matrix Zip car...I formed the perfect blog. Short, sweet, humorous, and memorable. But when I actually go to write it...it doesn't come out that way. I've lost my blog mojo.

My only logical conclusion is that I need wine to blog. And see...I've given it up during the week. In an attempt to lose weight, I'm trying to cut out the alcohol from Sunday-Thursday. Sure, I might be losing weight, but I'm also losing any readers out there because I have been SO BORING. So have faith people, like all great writers before me, I'm going back to the juice. It is a new beginning, a rebirth, and the day after a snow day...I'm off to Costco in the morning for a case of wine and I should be back on track by the time the kids are in bed.

One of these is not like the other

2009-02-17T20:56:00.001-05:00

I try really hard to cook and eat well. Don't get me wrong...I have my vices, weaknesses, and secret stashes...but for the most part, we eat healthy and try to keep the junk out of the pantry. So imagine my surprise when I was in the pantry this afternoon and tucked in, all flirty and cozy with the old-fashioned oats, was a can of Spam.

I don't care that Anthony Bourdain AND Barack Obama have both been popularizing spam sushi, this item has no place in MY pantry. The nerve of it to put its moves on my whole grain and organic food, and end up spooning with the oats.

So when I confronted the Spam pimp, aka my husband, and informed him that I found his nasty Spam, his response was, "you only found one?"

Uh, what? You brought a posse?

I don't care if you are "Crazy Zesty", let me assure you, this will be a one night stand only.

I'm alive

2009-02-11T19:41:00.002-05:00

There are so many reasons that I have disappeared for nearly 2 weeks and here they are in no particular order:

1. I have been studying the dictionary to learn the definitions of starblaster, annihilated, destroy, implode, droid, robot (specifically the difference between droid and robot)...the list could go on forever. We are EXTREMELY focused on all things Star Wars around here and I am trying to keep up and answer all questions. R2D2 I can do, but it turns out I have no idea who the hell Padme Amidala is.

2. I have been stressing about Kindergarten applications. We found out that we got into our 2nd choice, and won't hear from our first choice until May. It may seem simple, but it is enough to keep me up every night. I have called 3 times since our acceptance to make sure I am doing all the right things so they don't give my space away...they haven't yet, but if I call once more, they just might.

3. I've been trying to find a job. Not really trying that hard, but I have sent out my resume to a couple of places. And you know what? People just aren't calling me back. 5 years ago, I could have had any of these jobs...but now...not so much. Damn economy...oh and the 3 typos I found in my resume yesterday. Ooops.

4. Speaking of the economy, I have been struggling with what the right way to address our impending financial doom. Do I buckle down, save every penny, and horde until this passes? Or do I do my best to put some life into this economy. I mean, seriously, some of these sales are too good to pass up. I've been doing a bit of both. I spent a total of 3 hours trying to buy clothes for the kids at Crew Cuts so that they'll look cute when we're poor...but also have switched to all generic brands for housekeeping. I know, I know, the sacrifices I make.

5. I've been reading a new book recommended in the New York Times. Miss Manners' Guide to Rearing Perfect Children. I'm on page 57 (the font is WAY small), but I'll let you know how it goes. Or better yet, feel free to let me know how perfect my children are!

6. I've been doing 2 a day work outs. Why? I don't know. Perhaps my jeans have recently been restricting the oxygen to my brain. But I bought this AWESOME DVD that is literally kicking my ass. I still go to the gym and make sure that I do this once a day. Just staring at my new friend Jillian's stomach is enough to keep me motivated!

I could go on and on...but you get the point. In fact, you are probably so bored right now you wish I had never reappeared. Hopefully we'll get a bit more interesting in the near future. If not, I'll have to resort to fiction.

Are you sick of my kids yet?

2009-01-29T14:41:00.002-05:00

I'm not. Well at least not now while they are both in their rooms asleep. But there is an odd love fest going on over here. Don't worry, it is sure to end soon!

A Little Help for a Friend AND Free Money!

2009-01-28T19:03:00.003-05:00

Just a little public service announcement here...

My dear friend from college had and "AH-HA" moment after having her adorable little boy. Her idea amazingly combines all of her prior work experience with all the consumerism that we call parenthood. This brilliant idea is the Parents Insight Network.

TO JOIN

Just click here

What happens is she contracts with companies that want to target products to parents of young children. She conducts surveys, trials, and whatnot.

True story...she sent 40 of us to Target, had us fill out a survey based on some questions they were looking to answer, and we all got $50. Not divided equally, but a piece. It's like free money is falling from the skies. Imagine...getting paid to go to Target...or to use a baby carrier for a few months...or to just spout off your opinions on the millions of products we are convinced we need.

Pay it forward to a mom who is trying to make her good idea work. Join her network, it won't cost you a thing, and you just may make a few bucks for having an opinion.

Oh...and tell her I sent you!

Snow Day!

2009-01-27T13:53:00.003-05:00

We haven't had any snow up here this year and I have been VERY excited about the prospect of snow this week. I haven't felt this way since I was in grad school and hated my internship SO much that every night I would pray (not that it would do me much good) that it would snow. When I would wake up in the morning, I would rush check to see if the parking lot in our back yard (yes, it was a classy condo) was covered with snow. Unfortunately, the bright flourescent lights that lit up the parking lot (and our bedroom for that matter) always faked me out and for a brief moment I would think that it had snowed...when it hadn't. In fact, I did this check the back yard routine every morning I had work from November to March...did I mention that I was in North Carolina and it NEVER snowed that year. Damn South and making me go to that blasted internship. I'm still bitter.

So last night I went to bed dreaming of white flakes, rosey cheeks, and chocolate chip cookies (I have to make cookies when it snows!). I woke in the middle of the night, looked out the window and there it was, the magical white glowing ground, lit up from the sky and my neighbor's christmas decorations (which they have yet to take down...might I mention that they have been up since November 5?). I rolled over, went back to sleep, and smiled that I didn't have to go back to that darn internship.

Needless to say, we've enjoyed today...and by the way it is looking we'll enjoy tomorrow too.

Happy, happy snow day!

When Little Boys Play with Dollhouses

2009-01-23T15:58:00.001-05:00

First of all...how awesome is this dollhouse? My cousin gave it to me because her boys didn't have interest in it...but mine on the other hand...

Imagine how creative our dioramas in elementary school are going to be!

Hit the Road Jack

2009-01-17T19:58:00.003-05:00

This is from Madame Tussuad's in Amsterdam. After unveiling the new Obama wax statue, they packed up Bush's bags and put him on the sidewalk.

I understand your smile Mr. President-Elect...I too feel the same.

2009-01-14T19:37:00.003-05:00

OK, so not only do I have to admit to you all that I was sore from playing Wii, but now I have to tell you that I can't type because my left hand is sore.

Sore from what you ask? get your mind out of the gutter people this is a PG kind of place!

From the piano.

Yes, you read correctly. In the same Christmas in which our house was invaded with video games, we also obtained a piano. Seems that my husband has visions of us sitting by the fire, playing songs for one another, perhaps even singing along, in some fantasy land of musical talent.

So far I am the most talented (not saying a lot for the rest of them) because I can play TWO songs with TWO hands. I don't even know what the first song is called, my fingers just magically play it. This particular song is the only remaining piece of evidence that I took piano lessons for three years in the early 80's. Stuck way back in the depths of my brain alongside the phone numbers of my friends from elementary school is this song. It has been there for nearly 30 years and it has held up well. Quite pretty, if I do say myself, even if it only last 15 seconds.

The second song I learned this week. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Have you heard of it? I'm reading the notes, playing with both hands and my son claims that he can recognize the tune. It sounds quite funereal because I am not playing up to tempo quite yet. I figure at this rate I should start working on We Wish You a Merry Christmas for next year.

As bad as I may be, I am really enjoying the piano, wishing that I kept up with my lessons, and hoping that my family stops puking sometime soon so I can resume my trips to the gym and can report that I am sore from activities like kickboxing and pilates. Not necessarily newsworthy, but a lot less embarrassing.

A Wii bit hypocritical

2009-01-06T20:42:00.002-05:00

If I have said it once, I have said it a million times. We are not going to get video games. My kids can go to their neighbors like I did to play Space Invaders, Frogger, and all those other cutting age games they have these days. I talk about it incessantly, shout it out loud from the rooftops, and roll my eyes at everyone who has given in to the temptation of nintendos, playstations, or anything of that sort. I hate the idea of video games so much that I have a violent physical reaction to the vision of my kids vegging out in front of the TV playing Grand Theft Auto or anything that involves guns, crashing, or violence of any sort. So what, you ask, am I doing with a Wii in my basement?

Well, you see, I asked for it. I asked for it when I made all of these declarations professing myself holier than thou for never allowing a video game in my house, and I also asked for it when I mentioned that I would want a Wii Fit for Christmas. And my parents, you know, the ones who didn't let us have video games, didn't have cable, and only TIVO public television, bought me a Wii and Wii Fit for Christmas.

And you know what? It is SO cool and I can't stop. I'm the one who is in the basement by herself playing golf, doing her exercises, and figuring out how the hell to hit a backhand in tennis.

And you know what? I'm sore. I'm sore from the lunges, the yoga, and the laughing because I can't ski jump AT ALL. My son keeps saying, "I hope you don't make a big snowball again Mommy."

I'm also sore from the boxing match that I had with my 4 year old. I'm not sure it is a healthy way for us to be interacting right before dinner, but it sure was fun. He was was jumping up and down each time he knocked me to the ground, and I was secretly smiling each time I gave him a good blow to the head.

I'm a hypocrite, I know. I just have to hope that pretend boxing your mom is less scarring than blowing up cars. It certainly was more fun than what I should have been doing, making dinner.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T15:49:00.002-05:00

Rewind 6 years ago.

Husband and I were living in Chapel Hill, married for 2 years, still DINKs (dual income no kids) and enjoying ourselves. We had the outrageous luck to be taken to Rome for Christmas and returned back to North Carolina in time for New Years. You can imagine that after having 10 course dinners overlooking the city, New Year's Eve on Franklin Street might have seemed a bit pedestrian to say the least.

So the two of us declared that we were SO over New Years. We didn't need to go out, the hype was too much, it was always a disappointment...yadda yadda yadda...you get the point. We stayed in. And watch a Cirque Du Soleil marathon on Bravo until the boredom had our eyeballs rolling into the back of our heads.

Little did we know at that time that was the last time we would have New Years to ourselves. The next year I was pregnant and had 3 weddings to go to...yes THREE (we only made it to two....one in Miami and one in Mexico) and after that it was all kids all the time.

So needless to say I am excited to have 3 parties to go to today. One for lunch with the high school girlfriends and their kids, one for dinner with friends and a babysitter...yippee! the best kind of party!, and one late night (after 9pm!) with my sister and her boyfriend.

It may not be earth-shattering, but it isn't a Bravo marathon of contortionists either.

Happy New Year! Here's to a good 2009!
XOXO

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-30T20:05:00.004-05:00

Christmas Eve at my parents' house

Little girl LOVED her nana's duck cassoulet. And Nana didn't even cringe when she spilled it on the couch.

Both kids got a kitchen from Santa.

Daddy was just a wee bit tired from putting together the kitchen the night before.

That didn't dampen the kids' enthusiasm.

It was a tie for favorite present between the hiking outfit and backpack outfitted with a compass, rations, water bottle, and emergency kit...

And the marine outfit...aka bad guy/army man. Way to go Duk Duk!

A Feeble Attempt at Best

2008-12-22T18:54:00.002-05:00

I need to preface this post. I love my husband. But....

Our kids have been sick for nearly two weeks. First the little girl got a nasty cold that has made an otherwise happy-go-lucky kid cranky, snotty, and just a regular pain in the ass. After the 3rd day I was really scraping the bottom of the sympathy barrel. I know she didn't feel well, but really did she need to latch herself onto my leg, scream, cry, and jump to get up all at the same time? Then...this weekend the boy got the stomach bug. Luckily this thing lasted only 24 hours, so I didn't run out of sympathy, but I may have run out of Clorox wipes. Nasty.

So today my husband comes into the kitchen and with all sincerity says,

Honey, if you want to get a little time to yourself today, you can take my car to the DMV and renew the registration...while the kids nap.

Wait, I think I misheard you. Did you say that I should go get a mani/pedi, go read gossip magazines in Starbucks, or just go drive around in the peace and quiet? No...I think what I heard was that in my "time to myself" while the kids are asleep or at the very least quiet in the room, you are going to let me go to the DMV for you?

You are so sweet. But things around here aren't that bad...yet.

NO!

2008-12-16T20:18:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago I said to my husband, "I know it isn't right, but it is so cute when she says no."

You see, she would say it in a wispy little voice, she would shake her little head, and the three curls in the back of her head would shake as well. It was so cute.

Not so much anymore.

Now when I try to put her in her booster seat she screams, "NO" and pushes me away. When I try to put her shoes on she hides her feet and screams "NO." When I serve her food, she shoves the plate right back at me and screams, "NO". When I say it is time to go to bed she runs away (and that little bugger is fast!) and screams, "NO".

Let's add to this that she has been sick for five days, so nothing other than sitting on my lap, sneezing in my face, and rubbing her germy hands all over my face makes her happy.

So let's imagine who is shaking her head, with a raspy voice, and screaming "NO!"

Gingerbread houses

2008-12-16T19:55:00.003-05:00

I have tried to do a variety of crafts with my kids this holiday season. A couple of months ago, with visions of sugar plums and gingerbread villages dancing in my head, I bought a gingerbread house kit. I have anticipated this activity with my son since we threw the pumpkins away and have been waiting for the right time to bring it out and enjoy the decorating. Last Friday seemed to be the perfect time. You judge for yourself if it was the perfect holiday craft for our family. Personally, it wasn't so much a craft as an internal struggle of my OCD and letting my boy do it his way. Harder that you can imagine!

Little boy started out strong. He's really into crafts right now so fully embraced the concept of decorating the house. Unfortunately, planning and foresight are not his strong points, so he fell into a fit when he realized that after shingling half of the roof, he was out of gumdrops.

I have to admit that I never anticipated that the little girl would be interested in decorating the gingerbread house. This was clearly a lack of foresight and planning on my part (must be genetic). She was practically hyperventilating with distress when left out of this activity.

Enter her father, the truly crafty one in the family. Who, like MacGyver, swooped in and made a gingerbread house out of some stale graham crackers and leftover cream cheese frosting. Martha would be so proud!

We call it her Gingerbread Adobe.

I ended up letting the little boy do the whole house by himself. Not only was I proud of him, but I was really proud of myself. What I wouldn't have done to make that whole house symmetric and color coordinated!

Holiday Dilemna

2008-12-09T20:22:00.002-05:00

Here's my problem.

I love to cook, I love to eat, and I hate to diet. It is really a bad combination.

And it is a REALLY bad combo during the holidays. For as soon as I get a good whiff of the holiday spirit I am baking and making and tasting and basting. I watch the food network all day long. I read all the cooking magazines. I scour the Internet. I try new cookie recipes. I strategize what I am going to serve for Christmas (anyone who knows me knows I have already been talking about this for a few months). I make lists. I go to the store. I bake. I freeze. I head back to the store. And then I bake some more.

It is a great place to be if you are one of those people who just smiles and says, "I'm so lucky, I can eat anything." But that's not me.

But I'm not going to let that stop me.

All that glitters is not gold

2008-12-09T20:10:00.004-05:00

I know, I know.

In my last post I professed my love for my blog and then I proceeded to abandon it and leave it without a new post for over a week.

Where have I been? You ask.

Well see, I have been cleaning up all the fu&^%ng glitter in my house. Tis the season for preschool teachers to exact their revenge on the parents. Glitter glitter everywhere, and not a piece of artwork to be found. It's on the floor, on clothes, in diapers, and even in the dog bowl. You can't get away from it here.

You'd think that I'd get the holiday spirit and be more forgiving about the scabs on my knees from crawling around the house trying to peel the individual pieces of glitter out of the grout. But I'm not feeling forgiving right now.

But just you wait, preschool teacher, I'll get you back. I'm going to buy you a mug for the holidays.

My Jamming Blog

2008-12-01T07:22:00.007-05:00

So at Thanksgiving my cousin (his b-day today...Happy Birthday Bay Leaves!) took a poll amongst the dinner guests. He wanted to know...who had a blog. I proudly raised my hand (all by myself, no one else had a blog or was willing to admit it!) and stated, "I HAVE TWO!" Hip-hip-hooray for me!

Then he proceeded to tell everyone in the room that having a blog was like having Jams. An interesting analogy. My blog is like the over sized, over-printed shorts of the 80's. Hmmm.

But you know what. I wasn't cool enough to have Jams in the 80s. All I had were homemade knockoffs made by my aunt. And this time around I have not one but TWO authentic blogs. I wear them, share them and care for them with pride.

Hopefully they will have a longer life and be looked back on with greater appreciation than Jams. Because really, if my blogs are like Jams, I'm in trouble.

The basement...a love story

2008-11-24T19:30:00.002-05:00

I never grew up with an appreciation for a basement. Well, that isn't entirely true. I appreciated that I could always sneak down to the damp, dark dungeon and steal a bottle of Chardonnay when I was 16...but it was a quick and undetectable maneuver. I never spent a lot of time in our basement.

So when my husband insisted that we have a basement in our house I was indifferent. Sounds good, I said, and never thought much more about it. And honestly, for the first year that we lived here I remained indifferent. Sure it was a great space, but the little boy didn't ever want to be there by himself...so what was the point? That was, until this week.

Indifference has morphed into infatuation. I love the basement these days. You see, for the past week I have sent both kids to the basement and turned right back around, walked upstairs, and listened to...silence. Having his sister downstairs provides the right amount of company to make it the fun place my husband always knew it would be. Every day before school I hear, "Come on little girl let's go play army men." And she goes. And every night they run down there to play after dinner.

And quickly and undetectably, I sneak back upstairs to enjoy a bottle of Chardonnay. Old basement habits die hard.

Dear Santa,

2008-11-13T13:48:00.003-05:00

Yes, it is that time of year. Halloween decorations have come down, some (yes...my neighbors are those kind of people) have put up their Christmas decorations, and talk of the nightmare that is Thanksgiving travel is all over the news. (Don't pack too much, try to carry it on, don't bring matches to set you shoes on fire, and don't even think of bringing your nail clippers...yadda, yadda, yadda.)

So what does that mean in my household? It means that the endless list of things Santa is going to bring to our house has begun.

Mommy, I want new cars.

Well, maybe you should ask Santa.

Mommy, I want Spiderman figurines.

Well, put it on your list for Santa.

Mommy, I want a sword, a knife, and a pirate's hook.

I pause. I don't know what to respond to this one. Do I look like freakin' Angelina Jolie? Well...even if I do...that's not the point...do you really think Santa is going to bring you a knife?

So on the fly I say...

Hmm...I don't think Santa is allowed to fly with sharp objects. Or with liquids in quantities greater than 4oz for that matter. Sorry kiddo.

And do you know what his response is?

We better make sure his suitcase isn't too heavy either Mommy, or they'll charge him lots of money.

I think it is time to turn off the TV.

Date Night

2008-11-09T19:38:00.003-05:00

Friday night I went out on a date with the 4 year old. Dinner and a movie. Sounded like a great idea...in theory. But not so much in practice.

You see, this was a group date, kind of like in high school. 4 year olds and their mommies (and one brave daddy!). My nice quiet dinner chatting about school, our favorite friends, and our plans for the weekend while sipping on a Shiraz and an apple juice never really materialized. Because...I wasn't really the date of choice for my 4 year old, his friends were. So the dinner turned out to be a small wrestling match, game of chase, and a race to see if I could shove some food in my mouth in between telling my boy to not jump on the table, knock over the chairs and tickle the people he didn't know. We survived. It wasn't relaxing, but at one point the boy looked at me and said, "Mommy, I LOVE date night."

This oh so relaxing dinner was followed by walking to the movie theater where there were two fire engines parked outside. Have you ever seen what a fire engine does to a four year old? Imagine what it is like giving the Tasmanian Devil speed. That is about what it was like when we saw the flashing lights and men in uniform.

Turns out that these nice men and women in uniform weren't there to add fuel to our date night fire...they were there to put out one. The Pizzeria Uno's next to the theater had a smoke alarm that was going off causing the fire alarms in the restaurant and the theater to go off. and go off. and go off. and go off.

Needless to say, we never made it to the end of the movie. With about 20 minutes left and our third fire alarm we all threw in the towel. Free passes to another movie in hand, I think the mommies and daddy all agreed that next time we'll be taking dates that can pay the bill, read the menu, and go potty by themselves. It's not too much to ask is it? And I promise at the end of that night I'll be saying, "I LOVE date night" too.

His Response

2008-11-08T07:33:00.004-05:00

So my father responded to my blog via my e-mail. This is the father who, when I got my first article published in a newsletter after college sent it back to me with all my grammatical errors circled in red AFTER it was in the mail to the subscribers. I think it went something like, "You need to watch your split infinitives. Love, Daddy."

But his response this time was a much bigger correction. It read:

I'm not as good as you claim...and however close I come to your Mommystar image is a credit to your mother...else I'd still be smoking Lucky's and telling racial jokes! Thanks. Love...DADDY

And as I retype the note, I realize that not only is he correcting my ability to tell a story for dramatic effect, but there is also a grammatical correction embedded in his note. Yes...I like the ellipsis (...) Daddy...and I'm going to keep it that way...Love, me!

Who's the winner here?

2008-11-06T19:51:00.005-05:00

In case you are a blind person reading this blog. I am a white woman. I am a white woman who comes from a upper-middle class family and I have never really wanted for anything in my life. Yes I want some new shoes, and I want to lose 10 pounds...but through my lame attempt of humor, you know what I mean. I have lived and continue to live a privileged life. I am extremely lucky.

So you might think that I wouldn't be that overwhelmed by Obama's victory on Tuesday. But I am. I am brought to tears, I feel like dancing in the streets, and I can't watch enough news these days to satiate my thirst for more celebration of this historic event.

Stick with me people, even if you didn't vote for Obama. This is not about him, really, it is about parenting and its everlasting effects.

You see for my entire life I have been listening to stories. You know how it is in families. I have heard these stories so many times, I almost feel like I was there for most of them. But repetition has its effects and these stories have stuck with me.

We have Rose Medallion china throughout my parents' house. We have lamps, we have flower vases, we have a complete set of dinnerware, we have huge serving pieces...we have a lot. And as the story goes, my grandfather, a renowned lawyer in Baltimore in the 30's and 40's represented a Chinese man who wanted to buy a house in a nice neighborhood in Baltimore. This particular neighborhood was, let's say, less than thrilled that a Chinese man would want to move in, so they went to court. My grandfather and the Chinese man won the case and on the doorstep the next day was this entire load of Rose Medallion china...a rather grateful thank you to say the least.

Any time someone comments on the china, it is my father that repeats this story. The youngest son of my grandfather. The son that was only 9 years old when his father died, but also the son that carries the torch of this community organizer/civil rights advocate.

My father, the educator for 40+ years, has shown us day in and day out what it truly means to "do the right thing." Stories of his life run the gamut of sticking up for a minority friend at a diner in the South in the 60's when they couldn't get served to losing his job in the 90's in part for giving out too many minority scholarships. I got to see my father at work almost everyday of my youth since he was the head of my school. He showed compassion and belief for all students. He ingrained in all of us that intolerance was unacceptable and that equality was essential. I know all of this from the bottom of my heart, and I know this without reading, studying, or listening to a lecture. I know it because I saw it...I experienced it.

So today, as we embark on a future with Obama as president, I have to stop and ask. What are my children going to learn from me? What am I doing on a day to day basis that is going to have an ever-lasting effect on them? How are my actions effecting their world-view?

As a feeble response to those questions, we are going to celebrate this momentous occasion till the cows come home. Through all the news watching, newspaper reading, and inauguration attending my kids are going to know that it isn't just important an important day for African-Americans. It is a monumental day for all of us.

And I hope in 20 years when they reflect on this time they will laugh at the idea that we thought it was such a big deal, just like I laugh at the idea of trying to keep someone from buying a house in my neighborhood.

A Small Accomplishment

2008-11-03T19:44:00.002-05:00

So I may still only be on page 2 of the book I am writing, but Tea has published one of my blogs.

Read it here. And whether you agree with me or my in-laws, vote tomorrow!

Halloween Hangover

2008-11-03T19:14:00.005-05:00

Since when did Halloween become such an event?

I guess ever since Target started putting up their decorations in August.

Don't get me wrong, I love Halloween. I love dressing up. I love trick-or-treating. I even love how my neighborhood has embraced decorating their houses in true Griswald fashion. But there are some things about Halloween that I really could do without.

Carving pumpkins. I used to love doing this...create a face, put a candle in it, and call it a day. But these days carving a pumpkin is nothing short of trying to copy a Van Gogh on a misshapen orb that is bumpy and slimy all at the same time. 2 triangles and a bucktooth smile isn't good enough anymore. And you know what else, my father isn't here anymore to clean out that nasty pumpkin mucus. I totally took the easy way out this year and Mr. Pumpkin Headed it. Give me a phillips-head screwdriver and a Mr. Potato Head and there we have it...the slacker's pumpkin.

The candy. Sure, I think a little candy and indulgence for the kids is great. But for me, it is my Achilles heel. About a month ago, I hit Costco and purchased TWO bags of candy. Not two bags from the regular grocery store, but two bags, big enough to feed an army, 300 pieces of chocolate candy...the good kind, none of the cheap stuff. Somehow, in that huge warehouse of bargains, I convinced myself that I needed to a) purchase the candy in September and b) have a lot because Halloween was on a Friday. I spent the whole month sneaking a piece here and a piece there. At the rate I was going through it, I probably did need 2 bags. Eventually I made my husband hide the candy and he did, in a place I NEVER would have looked...with the Nutri-System food.

The hangover. After a celebration that was longer than Ramadan topped off with Daylight Savings Time. We are suffering big time around here. No parties to go to, no excuses to eat candy, and no patience left at all. And after all that candy eating last week, I may actually have to dip in the Nutri-System food...but not for the good stuff.

Selective memory

2008-10-28T21:30:00.005-04:00

We all know what selective hearing is.

What? Did you say something?

But I hope I have selective memory. You know, the memory that only remembers what you want to remember. My mom has it. I think it is genetic. Hopefully on the maternal side.

Writing this blog is one way to preserve my memory. But it seems these days that I only am remembering the parts that make me want to pull my hair out, scream, and jump off the balcony. But there is so much more to our life together...and I need to document it today.

So last week was my birthday...this is not the happy part ...but what my son did to celebrate is certainly worth documenting.

He had me call my parents so he could speak with them and then proceed to lock himself in the laundry room and plot with them about buying me a present that only they would know how to get.

You see, last year I lost a bracelet that they gave me, and my son remembered this. He told them that he wanted to go to London (where the bracelet was purchased) and get another bracelet. OK...a bit unrealistic, but the thought and idea was there. They talked and plotted some more, I hit my head as I tried to listen through the door, and then he came out and handed me the phone...at that point I was told that they were all going shopping for my birthday and I was not invited.

The smile, that devious secretive smile, remained on the boy's face for the next four days and then they went. Again, I was not invited.

When I finally saw the little boy again, I was practically knocked right off my feet. He was running full force right at me, taking out anyone who stood in his way, and his smile was as wide as the grand canyon (again...genetic on the maternal side). I think by the time he got to me, he had already unwrapped half the present and was asking, "do you like it Mommy?

What he didn't know was that even without seeing the present, I loved it already. The forethought, love, and enthusiasm that came wrapped in the package still brings tears to my eyes. And to top the whole experience off, this is what I got

So not only is my boy generous and loving, but he also has good taste. Again...genetic and on the maternal side!

Gym-P-S

2008-10-28T15:10:00.002-04:00

So we've been going to the gym a lot lately. Mostly because I have to compensate for the 2 Costco size bags of Halloween candy that are rapidly disappearing at our house, but also because I enjoy exercising and my gym has great child care.

If you asked my friends, their reactions to the child care would be mixed. But for me, it is perfect. The women are nice, they know my kid's names, they seem to genuinely care, and when we had an emergency this summer, they were 100% on the ball and trained, qualified, and all that other stuff. (Did I mention the rock climbing wall and moon bounce?) But like most activities that include the 4 year old, having a friend around really makes mommy's workouts much more fun.

Today, there was no such friend. And in the car ride home he made the following suggestion:

Mommy, the really should get a GPS for my friends.

What do you mean honey?

I mean, you could put it in your car, we would turn it on, and we could see if my friends were near the gym. That way you would know who to call to see if they could join us. It would be a Gym-P-S.

Seriously, I swear, he is only 4. Where does he come up with this stuff and what kind of TV is he watching with his father?

Arts and Crafts

2008-10-27T19:44:00.001-04:00

I have to give credit where credit is due. My friend Boom runs a tight ship. When we used to live close to each other I would steal her parenting techniques without a thought. No concern of cheating or parental plagiarism. All's fair in pleases and thank yous.

So when I went to see Boom, I came with a clear head and a note pad in my pocket and high hopes of making these f-ing fours go away. And wouldn't you know it, she had tricks, and good tricks too.

Aside from the normal duct tape the kids to the trees outside and the start drinking at nap time trick, Boom had tricks that I hadn't actually implemented before. The one that is proving to be most successful is the arts and crafts area in the kitchen. At Boom's house, I barely noticed the kids were up for the first 2 hours each morning because they were just coloring, cutting, and even sharing with smiles on their faces. I drank coffee, read the paper, talked to my friends and all I heard was. "pass the blue crayon please" and "Can I have another piece of paper. thank you."

It was genius. Sure we've had arts and crafts before. But these were at the kids disposal, at their eye level, and needing little to no parental supervision.
So you know what? If you build it, they will come. I built a cabinet (if following wordless instructions counts as "building"), I went to Michael's and spent a part of the boy's college fund, and lord have mercy, we have the best arts and crafts area this side of the Mason Dixon.

I can't say that we are actually creating an artistic genius here. We're actually just putting stickers in different places and calling it "art work" but we're happy, we're quiet, and we're putting all our eggs in the arts and crafts basket.

an impulse purchase at Michael's, bedazzled at home!

The dreaded phone call

2008-10-20T13:03:00.002-04:00

So I got my first ever phone call home from the teacher. Yikes. I was practically crying as I was talking to my boy's pre-school teacher.

You see, the problem is that he isn't so into circle time. While I know this is a necessary part of life, I can't say I blame him. He has perfectly good reasons why he isn't fond of circle time.

I don't get to talk when I want to.
The teacher doesn't always listen to and/or think my answer is right.
I'm not always the one in charge of circle time.

Circle time isn't all about him, so damn it, he doesn't like it. Sounds simple enough.

Now if only I had as many logical reasons for why I cry at any sort of confrontation, we'd be on to something.

The inner voice

2008-10-13T20:35:00.002-04:00

Usually listening to the little voice in my head isn't a good idea.

"you need cheese fries" it says.
"wear the heels even if they are uncomfortable" it advises.
"have another glass of wine" it suggests.

You can see how I should be skeptical of the advice my little inner voice gives me.

But when it comes to my children, my inner voice really knows what is going on.
"you should leave now." it hints.
"the kids should go to bed." it recommends.
"you really should avoid all public places" it implores.

How does it know? How does it know that 10 minutes later my child will fall on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs because his chicken finger fell on the ground? (while you are on the ground boy, just pick it up--5 second rule) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will hit his friend in the head with a plastic frying pan because he can't hear his tv show? (his explanation was that he wanted to make his friend be quiet...that's one way, I suppose) How does it know that 10 minutes later he will yell, "you are not my friend Mommy, you are poo poo eyeball forever" in front of a new group of mommy friends. (not terribly effective name calling, but creative to say the least)

I don't know how it knows, but it does.

Maybe I should start listening to it.

Food Recession at Robert Oliver Seafood

2008-10-07T14:56:00.003-04:00

On Sunday night I had the pleasure of going to listen to David Sedaris speak in Baltimore. I don't know what it is about him, but he can really make me laugh. Something about his whiney voice, his ridiculous stories, and his penchant to make fun of North Carolina...he really gets me going.

On Sunday, though, the humor really started before we even made it to his show. You see, my parents, my sister, my husband and I all were going to go out to dinner. Without the kids. What's so funny about that, you ask? Well nothing. That is unless you "eat" at Robert Oliver's Seafood Restaurant.

I have never, ever, ever, had such an unbelieveable experience at a restaurant. When we first got there, the rather surly host mumbled something...in hindsight it was probably "you don't want to eat here ladies, this place is s*^t." But we rolled our eyes, followed him after he huffed and puffed at us, and we sat down behind a mosquito net away from all the other diners. It wasn't perfect, but trying to keep our spirits up my husband and I kept repeating "it doesn't matter for us, we're so happy to be out we would be happy at chic-fil-a."

But at least at chic-fil-a, there is chicken. The very first thing that our waiter said to us was.
"good evening, I just want you to know that there is no calamari, no cobb salad, no chicken breast, no cesaer salad, and no fish."

My sister, who was STARVING, had already staked her claim in the calamari and cobb salad...you can imagine the dissapointment.

We forge ahead and try to order some wine. The waiter's response, "I'll have to check if we have that" Super, you do that.

Good news, they do! But they only have 2 bottles, so as he opens the first bottle, the server slams down the second and last bottle right on to the table. Not that we weren't going to have another, but it seemed a little aggressive to say the least.

If you have gotten attached to out waiter in this story, don't, because that is the last we saw of him.

My family is nothing if not content with a good drink and good company, so it took us a while to realize that the waiter hadn't brought us our hummus platter. When we checked our watches, 45 minutes had passed. Hummus with pita chips...not that hard to prepare, not necessary to cook, and after all, I could have walked to the Whole Foods and prepared it for us in half the time.

Our waiter, at this point, had all but vanished. I saw him fly by our table a few times, wiping his brow from all that non-food serving, non-order taking, and non-responding to his tables he was doing...tough job. Eventually. my father got up to see if he could attract some attention to us, to get some help, from someone, anyone who would acknowledge our presence. Like getting tickets to a U2 concert, he should have gotten there early.

As he stood up and headed to the bar and he all but heard, "back of the line buddy." This was the first time that we looked up from our immaculate, untouched table with not even a crumb from a piece of bread (we asked, they said they were out), and saw that there was a line of about 8 people all wondering/demanding where their drinks/food/waiter were. It was not a good scene. We then pulled back our mosquito netting and saw that none of the other customers had food on their tables, few had drinks, and all had scowls on their faces.

We knew then that we were a little lucky because we had not one, but two bottles of wine. When my father returned to the table, all he had was a corkscrew in hand...something seen as a small victory for our family as we could now get that second bottle of wine open. But he also returned with the knowledge that there was no food in the whole restaurant. Hmmm...something of a predicament when you are trying to go out to eat.

Resigned to not eating, buzzed from drinking on an empty stomach, and a bit giddy from the whole debacle it was time to head out to see David Sedaris.

Not to be outdone by the rest of the restaurant, as we hit the restrooms on our way out we found the ultimate outage...toilet paper.

There wasn't even toilet paper in this piece of s^*t restaurant.

Terrible Two's...My arse

2008-09-28T19:02:00.003-04:00

When you have kids, you receive a lot of advice. Some of it you ask for, and well honestly, most of it is unsolicited. My mother, however, has really held back on giving me too much advice in any arena. In fact, she claims she doesn't remember anything about our childhood just so she doesn't have to admit that my 4 year old is WAY more of a handful than my sister and I ever were (if this is the case, I am REALLY in trouble come high school!). But one thing that she did say to me that I keep repeating to myself over and over and over and over again is, "whoever called it the terrible two's just didn't have a 4 year old yet."

She is really on to something here. We have recently entered the stage of "I am SO mad at you", "I don't like you anymore", "You are SO mean", "You are not my friend". This accompanied by a symphony of screaming in frustration, slamming doors, stomping feet...it is such a pleasure to be around here. Don't you want to come visit?

So now I am asking for some advice...or at least some sort of psychic reading...when does this end? When does my loveable, polite, even tempered boy make an appearance. When does he stop having the ability to make my blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels, when do I stop being embarassed by his actions, when am I sure that he will grow to be a stable adult?

You know what my mom said? "I'll let you know when it happens for me."

Fan-freakin-tastic.

My secret fear

2008-09-25T19:10:00.002-04:00

You know how you are always supposed to wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident or something...that's not really a fear I have. I hope I have underwear on at all, but other than that...not really worried about it.

You know what worries me...what if someone who I want to impress got ahold of my tivo list, my itunes, or my pandora stations? It would be like looking into my soul. And people, let me tell you, it would not be a pretty sight.

I fear the day when someone innocently enough scans the list of my recorded shows and sees the new 90210, Gossip Girl, ALL Bravo shows, and much much more that is slowly draining all of my brain cells.

And since I just confessed the TV part of my soul...I'm going to keep my bad music taste to myself.

Bribery or positive reinforcement...your choice

2008-09-25T18:51:00.002-04:00

I have a friend of a friend, or maybe this mother is just an urban legend, but the story goes that she doesn't bribe her children...EVER. Not for nothing.

After I roll my eyes, laugh, close my wide open/fly catching mouth, and make sure the other mothers are reacting the same way, I shout, "no freakin' way, it's not possible."

But is it? Is it possible?

After hearing this story for the first time, I really tuned in to the amount of bribery that occurred in my house on a regular basis.

"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"

"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"

"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!"
"if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even bribery doesn't work)

At the end of my highly extensive and reliable survey, I concluded that we bribe A LOT. In fact, I don't think that we could get anything done without a little mob boss bribery.

But last night I figured out that the urban legend mother does exist and it is possible to live a life with children without bribery. You just have to use positive reinforcement.

Today the scenes went like this
"boy eat your dinner"
"NO!"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"
"OK"

"Boy get dressed for school"
"NO!"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"
"OK"

"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!""if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even positive reinforcement doesn't work)

Ahhh the beauty of semantics.

Cover yourself up...or not

2008-09-17T20:26:00.002-04:00

So I went to the doctor. No worries people...the dermatologist...there will be no stirrups in this story. And, after 30 some odd years in the sun, many of them equipped with baby oil, a chaise lounge, an extension cord and a tv... I thought it was time I got a full body check. You know, make sure all these freckles really are just that, freckles.

As the nurse brings me into the room, she instructs me to leave my underwear on and then put on the robe. Sounds simple enough.

I picked up the robe, but in actuality is should be called a paper towel. Only that a paper towel is softer, more absorbent, and probably bigger. What the F? This robe had neither a front or a back, it was about 6 inches long, It scratched the bejesus out of my skin and I tried it on 10 different times. Were the holes for my arms, my head, my legs? Did it open in the front or the back? Was it a top or a bottom? Did they forget to leave the robe and I was actually struggling with toilet paper?

When I finally decided on the proper position/alignment of it, I settled down onto the table, looked down, and realized that my "robe" didn't even cover all of my bra, my stomach was completely exposed, and forget it about covering my underwear. (none of this was really an issue because after childbirth, modesty doesn't really exist around here).

At that point the Doctor walked in, smiled, and said, "Sorry about the robes, we're trying to cut back on costs."

Save your $.12 a patient lady. I would have been easier to stay in just my underwear.

I'm not THAT mom!

2008-09-13T09:16:00.005-04:00

Pre-kids I was a teacher. So let me tell you, I have more than my share of opinions of THAT mom. You know...the mom who wants you to change her child's grade, the mom who calls you at home to ask about her child's homework assignment, the mom who hangs around school ALL day watching what you do, the mom who believes her child's version of a story over yours...OMG the list could go on.

I swear to you, I am not nor will I ever be THAT mom. I won't let it happen.

BUT...pre-school started this week. And while my darling 4 year old loves it (in fact he gave me a high-five at dinner last night and when I asked him what it was for he said, "for letting me go to school") I can't help but worry. When I ask him in the car each day what he did he tells me "we played, we painted, we had so much fun." And as he is saying this I feel all the little hairs on my arm stand up straight.

No math, no writing, no reading???? What are they doing over there? Is he going to fall behind?

I follow up with thinking

He's 4, he's bright, he's doing great.

And then I repeat to myself.

Don't be THAT mom. Don't be THAT mom. Don't believe everything he tells you.

I know, I know but I can't help but worry about his academics...did I mention that he is only 4?

Maybe I should also mention that I apparently am totally crazy.

Weight Loss

2008-09-05T20:01:00.002-04:00

I'm back on Weight Watchers.

Big freakin' surprise as I seem to ALWAYS be "on" something. On Adtkins, on Jenny Craig, on WW, on the wagon...whatever drastic measures I have to take to lose some weight.

And tonight, I think I deserve some seriously good weight loss karma.

We ordered pizza. Delicious, regular crust, pepperoni and sausage pizza. Hubby and big boy and little girl all devoured more than their share (actually I'm currently listening to hubby compain about his indulgence). And you know what I ate? No...not grilled fish, I'm not that good. But a Lean Cuisine pizza and a salad. I KNOW...I deserve a weight watching medal of some sort.

At the very least I think that calories should be calculated by not how much you ate, but by how much you resisted.

Today would go something like this:
Bagel and cream cheese with kids: -525
hot dog at lunch: -350
milkshake with son after teacher meeting: -425
lots and lots of pizza: -800
vodka with tonic: -1000 (it is Friday people!)

Total weight loss= -3100 calories...which should equal about one WHOLE pound for today.

Damn I'm good.

Back handed victory

2008-09-02T20:29:00.006-04:00

Rewind about 4 years ago. I head off to London to visit my parents with my then 8 month old. I leave my husband in our home alone for what I figure will be 7 days of beer, pizza, and freedom to sleep in an unmade bed. I expect to come home to a house with the toilet seats up, recycling not taken out and lots of dirty laundry. How wrong I was.

This is what I came home to:

Yes, doesn't every family with a new baby need a 1973 Bronco? One that "is such a good deal honey. We're going to make money on this, I swear."

Fast forward to present time. That great deal has sat in the garage for 4 years and has racked up only 400 miles (one trip from old house to new house)

So imagine my delight when last week my husband ON HIS OWN decided to sell the great deal in exchange for this:

why the little girl is wearing a helmet still remains a mystery!

I really thought that after 7 years I had made an impact. Our third car was going to be one that we both would enjoy, could take to the beach, to yoga, to the store...wherever. He was considering my desires, recognizing the immaturity of the purchase of a 1973 Ford Bronco that doesn't even work and just drips oil in the garage, and putting the safety of the kids before his juvenile joy ride. (again, the helmet is a mystery!)

Can I just say it again...How wrong I was!

Because...within one week, this is what I came home to:

Oh...did I mention that in order to pay for this lovely vessel, he has to sell the Bronco AND his car...so now there is no 3rd vehicle...just his car (see picture above) and mine.

So after seven years, the only thing that has happened is that his impulse purchases have gotten more expensive and he has gotten A LOT better at working things to his advantage. Damn.

What are you watching?

2008-08-27T21:31:00.006-04:00

I don't usually proclaim my political beliefs here on my blog...but I have to say:

But regardless of who you will vote for in November...you'll agree with me on this. At least, I think you will.

Tonight, at my in-laws, at the Jersey Shore, sequestered in the basement to watch the Democratic National Convention, I was horrified by what I saw/found. At 9:15, I turned on the TV (all by myself as the conservative members of the family watched the Phillies game) only to find that the 4 major networks on TV were more concerned with Super Nanny, America's Got Talent, Bones, and Whacked Out Videos than with Bill Clinton speaking. You know him right? Former president of the United States, husband to the runner-up, and headline maker for the past 100 days for his contentious relationship with the Obama's. Why can't I find him on TV?

Thank goodness for public television...otherwise I might have voted for Sharon Osbourne or David Hasselhoff for president. And thank goodness for them more for cutting to commercial during John Kerry!

I love me some TV...but this is ridiculous!

Farmer's Market

2008-08-24T08:14:00.002-04:00

There is something so peaceful about going to the farmer's market on the weekends. I ususally get to go alone, I usually wander around for about 15 minutes drinking a coffee, and then I usually shell out obscene amounts of money for fresh grown produce, baked goods, and flowers. It is pure heaven.

Happiness

2008-08-18T10:58:00.003-04:00

Happiness for me:

A day on the boat followed by a crab feast and kids who sleep more than 12 hours

Happiness for husband: Playing skipper and skipping work

Happiness for son: Going super fast on the first boat to play pirate on the 2nd boat

Not so happiness for daughter: Being dragged around for all the activity and being stuffed like a sausage in her life preserver

I miss you summer camp

2008-08-18T10:40:00.002-04:00

For the past four weeks the little boy has been going to summer camp. And while he was there the little girl and I have been enjoying our peace and quiet. Hitting the gym, taking naps, and just walking around the house without getting run over by a super spy or a growling dinosaur.

And while we relaxed, took deep breaths, and enjoyed our time together just mother and daughter, the little boy was having the time of his life.

I mean, what's not to love about hiking, songs, crafts, and learning about all sorts of interesting animals? It was a 4 year old boys dream come true. Covered in dirt with a smile as wide as the grand canyon each day, he never wanted to come home and was determined to go to camp even after I told him his counselors wouldn't be there on Saturdays and Sundays.

And camp, apparently, is the gift that keeps giving. Because not only was he out all morning tromping around in the woods and creeks, but he came home exhausted, quiet for quiet time and ready for bed by 7pm. To say we got our money's worth is an understatement.

So today I am a bit sad. Not because the little boy is home (I actually am looking forward to a few days with no need to rush out the door at 8am) but because it signals the end of summer. And next year at camp he'll be a little bit older, a little more jaded and a little less likely to sing his camp songs at full volume every time I ask him. So from now until then we'll be singing the songs and dancing the steps to keep up the feeling that summer camp left with us this year. Thanks Nature Tots!

I'm back!

2008-08-15T06:49:00.002-04:00

I really do wonder what people did before internet. Did they actually call their friends? Write them a little note , print out pictures and hand them out? Go to the grocery store? Or a mall? Call a doctor?

This past month I have a small exercise in what it must be like with out internet OR a home phone. And let me tell you...it wasn't pretty. I had to spend nap time doing things like sweep the floor, fold laundry, make dinner. What the F? I didn't sign up for this antiquated stay-at-home mom crap.

But breathe a huge sigh of relief. Procrastination, late night purchasing, and reading gossip are all back on the agenda.

Oh...and maybe I'll blog a little bit too. We've had a pretty good month since Mommy hasn't been handcuffed to Perez Hilton.

what makes me cranky...and more

2008-07-25T21:13:00.002-04:00

You want to know makes me cranky? No internet service.

It isn't that I have had deep, profound things to say to you all. In fact, NOTHING has happened in the five days that I have gone without internet service...but you wouldn't know that would you...becuase I couldn't tell you.

What kills me is that our interent goes out and I think that I am missing the world. Who is emailing me? Who wants to be my facebook friend? What new blog posts are there? What's my bank balance? AND...does Brittany have custody of her kids yet?

But without internet service, I am totally at a loss. I know nothing, yet I think that SO much is happening. And it kills me.

So today, I drive 4 hours to get to my in-laws (not just to get internet, but it did make me drive a bit faster) and I found that I had only 10 e-mails (3 of which mattered AT ALL), there was only 1 new blog post of interest, and NO ONE wanted to be my friend.

So all that anxiety for the past 3 days was for nothing.

But how else am I supposed to pass nap time each day if I don't have service?

Thighs and other parts

2008-07-11T19:19:00.001-04:00

I recently was able to visit a very good friend of mine and there are 1 million reasons why I love her, but today the reason is that she has made me 100% embrace my girl's thighs. When I saw her, she and her sister couldn't get enough of the thighs and the overall squishiness of my daughter. They were squealing and drooling over her baby fat like I do when I pass Cinnabon in the mall. And after just a few hours I realized that I, too, am in awe of all her rolls, skin, and generous padding.

And I also love this friend because for my daughter's birthday she sent her a string bikini. No, not with any intention that she would wear it in public, but just with the simple request that I try it on, take pictures and send them to her. And when I did, she asked that I resend them in a higher resolution (what she is going to do with these pictures, I don't know) So below are the pictures just to hammer in that last nail when my girl is 13 and has a list of 100 things why she hates me. Don't forget honey that I posted these pictures of you on my blog. I would hate me too.

Please enjoy the only picture of any of my family in a bikini this year (I hold hope that I will strut Heidi Klum style one day!)

If you read closely this tag says,UPF 50+, excellent UV protection. I ask...on what? Her nipples? Good, I would hate her nipples to get sunburned at so early an age. We'll save that for when she goes topless on her summer trip to France a la Duk Duk.

Finally, here she is perfecting her red carpet, over the shoulder, maybe they can't see my belly shot.

I do know that she'll have a point when she brings this up in 10 years...but for now, I am so grateful for my friend and her sense of humor!

Who's looking at my Facebook?

2008-07-10T13:36:00.004-04:00

OK..I may be 33, with 2 kids, a bathing suit from Lands End, and a volvo wagon...but does that stop me from social networking? I think not.

I joined Facebook. Really I joined it because my hip, NYC based, cutting edge, MBA student, best friend told me that I should. And let's be honest...when she told me I should wax, I did...so why wouldn't I listen to her this time?

I enjoy facebook. I like reading the little blurbs of what people are up to. Some of these people I haven't laid eyes on in nearly 20 years, but I still like knowing what they doing. I am a voyeur...not doubt about that, so facebook is perfect in that sense. I check out people's photos, read their updates and then move on to people.com

But facebook also kind of wierds me out. On one side of the page, it continually suggests more friends for you. Yes, yes, facebook, I know these people. Enough already. As many times as you float his/her picture out there I am not going to be friends with them (exposing your profile page to them and vice versa). Honestly, we weren't friends when you programmed with Lotus in computer class, so why would be friends now? And after thinking about all the people who are seeing my picture on a daily basis saying the same thing, I updated my profile picture to uber-hot, sexy, skinny photo rather than ski hat and baby bjorn picture.

Old profile picture:

New profile picture

But do you want to know what really gets me? The targeted ads from facebook sponsors. Most recently it keeps flashing, "28-35 and overweight?" Uh....f-you facebook, I'm working on it ok? Two kids, busy life...not as fit as I would like to be...but I'm wokring on it already! And after multiple days of calling me fat today it said, "married and need more sex life?" Damnit facebook...leave me alone. You are maing me cranky and by the way...have you not seen my new profile picture? I'm not fat...and by the looks of it, I'm not hard up either. Keep your opinions to yourself as I voyeur on all my friends.

Happy 1st Birthday

2008-07-04T22:01:00.001-04:00

Modesty

2008-07-03T07:16:00.003-04:00

I used to be modest. I was covered up, never over-exposed and running to the nearest closet, bathroom, port-a-potty, whatever to change my clothes, brush my hair, or even just readjust. SO much has changed.

I suppose it may be the two times that I have sat nearly half naked with at least 15 people coming in and out of my room for hours upon hours upon hours. Childbirth really does shoot a hole in your modesty. OK...more like a meteor in my modesty.

But I didn't realize that I had lost all modesty until this week. See this week we went to the in-laws to go to the beach and withing 24 hours I was peeing with the door open, changing my bathing suit top at the beach (I got dressed in the dark and it was inside out when I got there), and worst of all I was running around the beach, I mean full sprint/ball chasing/4 year old catching/not good for my jiggling thighs/ running in just a bathing suit.

You certainly never would have caught me doing that 5 years ago. And I am sorry if you caught me doing that this year.

Sight Reading

2008-06-30T07:13:00.004-04:00

So I wonder, is it really bad when your son't first sight reading word (you know the one where he doesn't actually sound it out, but just recognizes it) is from a convenience store?

Sure, W is his favorite letter, and sure there is only one other letter involved in this word. But a convenience store? Seriously?

So we're driving to the Jersey Shore and from the back seat I hear, "Look Mommy a Wawa." Granted, it could have been a lucky guess because if you've ever driven to the Jersey Shore, you know there is one every 2 exits. In fact, our directions to other people often include, turn left at the Wawa by the cemetery, go throught the Wawa in the roundabout, etc. But then when he said it again, and again, and again...then I knew it wasn't a coincidence.

And I knew, that however I try to spin it, the fact is the first word he read was the name of a convenience store. A superior one that makes the best hoagies, but a convenience store nonetheless.

(Dis) Organized Sports

2008-06-25T09:41:00.002-04:00

Taking your 4 year old to what they call "organized sports" is definitely an exercise in patience for the parents. We have resisted all sports up until now because we recognize how easy it will be to overbook our kids and perhaps push them too much in a direction they don't want to go. I had been assured by other moms that soccer at the Y would not be too intense, the parents would be relaxed, and a good time would be had by the 4 year old. I have to say they were right, but they never mentioned that the program was not intended for a Type A parent...AT ALL.

The first week the coach never showed up...the second week the coach was there but spent 3/4 of the time chasing his son around trying to get him to blow his nose...the third week another parent actually stepped in and helped coach the kids but seemed interested in only passing the ball to his son (go figure)...and the fourth week I brought my cellphone all charged up, headset in place, and chatted up my friends while trying not to pay attention to the whole debacle.

You see, the real problem was not the disorganization of the program, but my intense desire to jump in and straighten the whole program out. I spent the entire hour (I know it doesn't seem like a long time, but it is when it is 3/4 year old soccer) plotting how I would have a plan, split the kids up, run shuttles, teach offense and defense, and next thng you know we wold be passing back and forth to one another with only a few breaks to pick buttercups off the field. It was all I could do not to "participate"

So now soccer is over and we are doing another sports program through the running association in our town. In reality, it is 300+ kids on 2 football fields doing relay races, running games, and occasionally taking laps around the track. I can't even begin to describe the chaos. But last night in the 4 year olds group there were about 15 kids and ONE coach. Are you kidding me? You try getting 15 kids to play follow the leader, do dizzy izzies, or freeze dance all by yourself. As I watched in pain as this shy, whispering, slight (you know a "running body") 20 something girl tried to coral the kids...I just couldn't resist anymore. I jumped in, I organized, I coordinated, and I facilitated. And I got stuck. Next thing you know I'm carrying the props back after the hour, I'm talking to the leader, and I am thinking that we'll never come back because I don't want to be in charge.

Or do I?

Take the good, take the bad

2008-06-20T13:50:00.002-04:00

Our life works in extremes.

One day it is 105 degrees outside, the next 75.
One day we have a million things to do, the next we have nothing on our calendar.
One day I'm skinny, the next I'm fat (no...now I'm exaggerating...it takes much more than a day!)
And one day kids are perfect and the next day...well...not so much.

For example:

Two days ago there was no napping in the house. None to speak of, not even a quick 10 minute close your eyes and stop the screaming/yelling/whining for a minute. So, for those of you who don't know, no napping leads to cranky kids and EXTREMELY cranky mommies. I can't even quantify the level of crankiness. But let me try:

(cranky kids+cranky mommy)x daddy gone for the night=very serious situation

By the time bedtime finally came around baby girl was thrown into bed with a wipe stuck to the back of her head and little boy nearly had his head smacked in with a large bedtime book (in my defense he had me read the whole long, rhyming, hard to pronounce book and when we got to the second to the last page declared, "I don't like this one, I want another." You'll be happy to know that no abuse occurred, I just got up and left the room)

But thank goodness the extreme occurred yesterday. After a morning of playing with a friend, napping, and iced coffees we were off to a good start. Followed by a quiet afternoon and some exercising...I didn't think things could get much better. But then it happened. Playing with the new "talkie talkies" the little boy was in the basement and kept saying to me (in the kitchen by myself with a glass of wine) "Mommy, I love you. Over and Out" "Mommy, I love you, 10-4" Seriously...I can't even remember what went wrong earlier this week.

(good naps + quiet time +coffee+exercising)x spontaneous I love you's=perfection

I'll take the bad, if that's the good I get. And as long as none of this has to do with talking about the Facts of Life.

Birthday Hangover

2008-06-09T21:10:00.000-04:00

OK...remember how I said that this birthday thing is bogus. I was totally on to something. Because...well...as I already mentioned it does not celebrate the true hero in birth (ME!)...and it is not just one day...this thing dragged on for 4 whole days. My lord...it was the longest birthday celebration second to maybe Jesus. And yes, I suppose I created most of this hysteria. I planned his "family party" which was just presents and cake for the 4 of us.

Then we had the "friend party" with 8 of his friends at the bouncy house place.

And finally, we wrapped up the mardi gras with the "family party part 2" which included grandparents and aunts and uncles.

I love birthdays, I love to make my kid feel special, but even I had to roll my eyes at the pure over-indulgence of this whole thing.

So needless to say, today has been a bit of a disappointment. No more cake, no more presents, and no more free passes because today is a "special day." In fact, tonight when he was trying to negotiate an extra TV show before bed he said, "but Mommy today is special because yesterday was my birthday."

"Well, no, honey your birthday was last week. Today is not a special day."
"So how many days until my next birthday?"

And this is where the hangover comes in to play because in order to answer that question, I have to finish the sangria and maybe a few bottles of wine to even contemplate the thought.

My big boy

2008-06-06T07:27:00.001-04:00

Four years. I can’t believe it. How did he go from this:

To this:

I really find it all amazing. He’s articulate, he knows all his letters, can sight read some words, likes to play math, and is ALL MINE. I love him so much…he should never know just how much I love him.

But do you know what? I’m starting to think that this birthday thing is bogus. Why are we celebrating him? What has he done that is so remarkable? Why aren’t we celebrating us, the parents? I mean for the first 3 years we kept him alive…that deserves some sort of presidential commendation of some sort…or at least our own wing at the ER. And for the past year…well, we haven’t killed him…again deserving some sort of award I am sure.

So tonight, as we opened up his presents, it wasn’t him that we were really toasting. It was us. Here’s to us…4 years in and we are stronger, sometimes meaner and sometimes nicer, more lenient and yet also stricter, more forgiving, equipped with a better sense of humor, and better parents than we thought we would be. We toasted with our “survival martinis” and hope to be drinking them every June 5 for the rest of our lives.

Happy birthday big boy. We love you.

Hypocrisy

2008-06-04T15:37:00.001-04:00

OK...rewind about 10 weeks when my mother innocently enough said, "little girl, these thighs are going to give you some problems when you get older."

I can't even begin to explain how I over-reacted. Steam poured out my ears, face turned bright red and I almost cried right there thinking about my little girl and all the body image delusions she is going to have to deal with. It just isn't fair.

A week or so later I still had not recovered and I told my mom that I really didn't like the comments about her thighs or any other body part because I just worried so much about all that girls have to struggle with regarding their appearance and then I asked her not to comment on her weight or anything else.

You know what my mom said? "I didn't with you did I?" Uhhh...touche. She didn't. She never once said a word about my too tight pants, my desire to wear things that only "skinny girls" should wear, or my ability to polish off a dozen cookies in one sitting. In 7th grade she even took me to my weekly weight watcher meetings and cooked special food for me the entire time. She didn't comment, she supported.

So how ironic that I accuse her of judging...when I think it is deep down me that is commenting, judging, obsessing. I can't get these thighs out of my mind.

Now before you comment that she'll grow out of them, it's just baby fat, etc. I know that. But I also know what she is genetically stacked up against and I just want to enjoy the time when I can squeeze those thighs, love every roll in them, and post them on my blog for everyone to see.

In the future, I vow not to comment, but for now, I just can't resist.

So predictable

2008-06-02T14:13:00.003-04:00

I have been waiting for this weekend since 2004. When last year they announced that the movie was going to come out this summer, I immediately called my sister and made her promise to go with me (no way in H-E-double hockey sticks that my husband would be seeing this one!) Turns out I didn't have to beg her to come with me because half the female population of DC was at the theater staging a sit in for their seats so far in advance I couldn't even get a drink before the show. Damn.

After the 45 minutes of trailers where my sister can accurately tell you who everyone is and what movie/show/broadway play they are from (it is an AMAZING talent of hers, one that surely is untapped!) the movie started. And so did the tears.

I'm a loser, I admit it. But I cried quietly in my seat thinking about how I was reuniting with some of my longest, dearest, and most predictable friends (every Sunday...I could count on them!). I was not, however, hooting screaming, whistling, and swirling my pink feathered boa in the air like some other patrons of the theater. (they must have gotten there in time for the pre-theater drinks...damn again)

The movie, well, it was pure magic. I mean if pure magic is fantastic clothes, great one liners, more fantastic clothes, and a brief glimpse of full frontal MALE you know what. (I missed it...how could I?...must have been wiping my eyes with my feather boa!)

Yes, for what it is worth, the movie was predictable...but you know what? So am I.

We're back!

2008-05-27T21:25:00.002-04:00

I feel like we have been gone from our house for a full month. Maybe that is what 18 hours in the car with your two young children does to you.

We've gone 280 miles South to the wonderful Outer Banks, where I think I used the phrase, "when we used to live in North Carolina" once every 15 minutes. (I didn't know that I missed it that much until I went back!)

Then we drove 280 miles North to the Jersey Shore. We got to ride a ferry that served beer...but it didn't make the trip less than 8 hours.

And then we came home.

But seriously...all that driving was worth every minute of it. Good weather, good friends. MANY good drinks, and great memories. I've attached a slideshow that only touches on what we did this week.

I'd do it all over again...but you're not getting me in the car for a long time any time soon!

I've been duped

2008-05-13T20:28:00.003-04:00

Today my budding genius of a 3...going on 4...year old boy told me that after nap he wanted to go to the Space Museum. That would be the Air and Space Museum right near our house. Just like Renee Zellweger in Jerry McGuire, he had me at museum.

No worries that this was the first sunny day in 10. No worries that I had barely showered (it was interrupted by the preschool calling saying that I forgot to pick up my son...nooo...I simply didn't know there wasn't lunch bunch!) No worries that the little girl was cranky, hungry, and in no mood to go look at rockets, airplanes, and space shuttles...he had me at museum.

But what I thought was an intellectual journey to learn about the history of flight (in preparation for our trip to the Outer Banks next week) really turned out to be a journey to learn about the manipulation of Mommy. And Mommy was the one to learn, a lot.

As soon as we got into the car, talk from the back seat was all about a space grabber. I didn't exactly remember which exhibit he was talking about, but I was happy to encourage him. But soon enough, I realized that this exhibit was nothing more than a display in the gift shop. And the "space grabber" was nothing more than a very long, and rather expensive set of plastic tongs.

Still feeling the guilt from leaving him at school...I indulged him. Yes, you parenting critics out there. I bought him the darn thing. For one, I felt guilty, but also because I appreciated his forethought, his strategy, his outright manipulation. The score today: Little Boy: 1, Mommy: 0

And, I have to say, it was SO worth it. There must have been 100 thank yous, 100 I love yous, and 100 "if you do (fill in the blank) I'm going to take the space grabbers away" Never have we had a better trip to the museum.

Good thing the little girl can't talk because I am sure she would disagree.

This is why we have Mother's Day

2008-05-13T20:21:00.000-04:00

Seriously...we celebrate Mother's Day because only a father would let his daughter put nearly half her body through the banister (and left her there while he got the camera to document the incident). Has he not read ANYTHING on the internet late at night when he couldn't sleep? Oh, that's right....he's never up late at night sleepless...that is why we celebrate the mother.

I'm not even going to mention the outfit he put her in!

Amen.

A series of events that made me cranky

2008-04-30T16:35:00.002-04:00

Step One: Plant spring flowers in urns outside

Step Two: Awake the next morning to find all plants eaten...blame deer.

Step 3: find fury looking creature with petunia hanging out of his mouth. Guilty before proven innocent.

Step Four: Pay man in beat-up pick-up to "take care of the problem" a la Tony Soprano

Step Five: rejoice, no longer cranky.

It's not easy being green...part 2

2008-04-30T16:17:00.002-04:00

Seriously...I blogged before about my AWESOME reuseable bags from Harris Teeter. I still LOVE them. But you know what I don't love? An idiot checker/bagger.

Now, remember, I used to be a bagger/checker. I even almost worked at the courtesy counter...so I can critique. OHHHH...I can critique.

So the other day we went to the store. I mean, really, do I not win an award for going grocery shopping with both kids, and empty stomach, and my 5 reuseable bags? I think I do. Digressing...I know.

As we are checking out, the nice bagger man is talking to the kids, making them laugh, and wrapping each item I bought in plastic bags and then putting them into my lovely green reuseable bags. Seriously...do you not get the message I am trying to send with the bags? I hate the plastic bags, I semi-want to save the earth, and I HATE THE PLASTIC BAGS. I just sort of stared at him wondering...why are you wrapping up my yogurts in plastic? What's wrong with the bag the lemons are already in? what the f%&k are you doing?

Unfortunately, I just stared and said nothing. Next time I will save the Earth AND be assertive. And for that, with 2 kids in tow, I certainly will deserve an award!

Is it Friday yet?

2008-04-24T15:02:00.003-04:00

I haven't worked a real job in almost 4 years. Yikes...that is a long time when you actually write it out. And I haven't wanted it to be Friday more than today.

You see...for the past 4 years there has been no difference in my day to day life whether it is Monday, Wednesday, or Saturday. Yes, you'll say, my husband is home on the weekends. But he is also home some days during the week, so the extreme difference between a Tuesday morning and a Sunday morning does not exist. Take a vacation...not me...everywhere we go, I'm on a business trip. My job goes with me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Ask me what day it is and I won't know, but I'll respond like a preschooler. "I hope it's a school day!"

And even though I haven't had a job in over 1200 days, I still remember very clearly what it is like to need a weekend. Get through Wednesday...you are more than halfway there...by Thursday afternoon you can already taste that Friday afternoon margarita...and get any work done at 3pm on Friday...you've got to be kidding me.

So in the past four years, I have never needed a weekend, a break in routine, a happy hour, an escape like I need this week. And you are going to be SO glad I'm telling you why.

It all started on Saturday night when I thought maybe, just maybe, I ate too much peanut butter cookie dough...but no, it wasn't my guiltY conscience making me sick it was that nasty old thing called the 24 hour flu. Puke and pass out, that is all I did on Sunday while my loving husband held down the fort. On Sunday night I went to bed thinking phew, the worst is over. HA!

I could go through all of the gory details, but suffice it to say that my illness was just the calm before the storm. Both little ones got the 24 hour flu that has since turned into the 72 or 96 hour bug. We're still illin' over here. And to put icing on the cake...today my husband came down with it too. This bug is kicking our ass! To summarize:

17 -loads of laundry done this week
7-times I have cried
6-plans that we have cancelled
4- times I have been puked on
3-times I have been pooped on (a student I took to Costa Rica once called it "pissing out your a-hole" He is SO right!)
2- times I have found my baby sleeping in vomit
0- times I have been to the gym

150- times I have screamed "IS IT FRIDAY YET????"