Tuesday, March 31, 2009

One more thing

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

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

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

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!

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

He wasn't the only one who learned something

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.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Obama Arms

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?

Monday, March 09, 2009

Watching the World Go By

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.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Need some wine to whine

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.