Picky Fingers

Space

2009-02-15T07:51:00.000-08:00

I overheard this conversation the other day while Hubby was on the phone with a client, and the kids were playing ninja in the living room while watching a movie:

"Hello? Hello? Yes, yes this is he. Sorry it's a little... I'm sorry? Oh, you're looking to buy a phone? No, I don't sell phones... OH! Yes, I sell homes! Sorry! Do you know what you're qualified for?... Oh, well one point two five million is quite nice, unfortunately our area is a little limited--oh I'm sorry! Yes, there's plenty for one hundred twenty five thousand-- what was that? I didn't hear that last part?? Wow! You have forty five thousand to put down! Fantas--I'm sorry? Oh, uh yes, we can close in forty-five days! Sorry, it's just a little loud--what? Yes sir, two boys. Um, 5 and 3... yes I do want your business. Let me just step away from all the noise..."

...and with a glare in my direction, into the garage Hubby went. After a few minutes I peeked out to see him bent over the hood of the car, scribbling on the back of a paper bag. We later discussed that Hubby needed some kind of office. Unfortunately when you live in a sardine can-sized house, space is limited. Once he found some grocery receipts mixed in with his client's lunch receipts, and another time there were so many coloring pictures scattered across the computer table we had to break out an ax to find the mouse! This was a disaster!

We needed a quick-fix solution, so we decided to put the boys together in Jake's room, and we'd turn Ben's room into an office/play room. The boys thought it was a fabulous idea, and last night Ben happily trooped into Jake's room to sleep!
Here they are getting ready for bed (the calm before the storm):

It's surprising how much space is in Jake's room! With two twin beds, a dresser, and a bookshelf, there's still plenty of room to play and walk around! Eventually I think we'd like to get bunk beds, or at least matching twin bed frames, but for now it provides a temporary solution to our overwhelming problem.

However, last night was a disaster getting everyone to sleep. Daddy had to stand in the doorway, and even then only Ben fell asleep at a "reasonable" nine o'clock! Then Jake couldn't stand the extra "breathing" and ended up falling asleep in my bed at nine thirty! This is going to be a looong weekend.

Of course I told Hubby that with the boys sharing a room I'd need to make it "cute" and get matching quilts and coordinating wall decor. He just sadly nodded. It was a cost he'd apparently calculated beforehand, but new it was a sacrafice he'd just have to make. Little does he know that I've been wanting to re-do the bathroom, too! Hey, when opportunity knocks, you open the door wide and offer cookies!

Snug As A Bug

2009-02-12T15:30:00.000-08:00

When Jake outgrows his clothes I store the non-stained, non-pilled, only rolled in the mud twice, items in plastic bins under his bed for later in life when Ben can wear them. Yesterday (in a bit of a laundry emergency) I ransacked those bins and found a bunch of clothes perfect for Ben's current size! Yay! Then I replaced the empty bin under the bed and went on with my day...

So imagine my surprise when I walked into Jake's bedroom this afternoon to find this:
I said, "Ben! What are you doing there?" And he looked at me like I had two heads and answered, "I'm resting next to Jacob's bed." So I turned to Jake and--while trying to supress my giggles--I asked him if he had anything to do with this. Jake nodded and said, "Yeah, we found it under my bed so I pulled it out and got his blanket and pillow so he could rest."

I just thought it was too funny. Then of course Ben turned into a big ham!

Here he's clearly enjoying the attention!

Jeans

2009-01-03T15:18:00.000-08:00

Today Hubby had a brilliant idea of going out to eat for lunch. We decided to head to Red Robin (a family favorite) located at our mall. I got dressed in some jeans and a sweater, and we all piled into the car. My jeans felt a little tight, but I had just laundered them and assured myself that they would stretch.

Half-way through lunch I realized the only thing stretching was my stomach, spilling over the top of my belt loops. I casually suggested we stroll around for a bit afterward to walk-off our food. However, even as we walked my jeans still felt too tight. Here and there I would discretely check out my rear end in the store windows to make sure my pants weren't giving me a wedgie (I certainly felt some "creeping fabric" back there).

On the way home I mentioned to Hubby that I needed to lose some weight this year. I was met with an approving nod and a comment: "I think I've slimmed down quite a bit recently." I told him that I was happy for him and that I too would like to "slim down". He quickly agreed (a little too quickly, if you ask me) and continued on with a lecture reprimanding me for eating sweets and treats, and explaining that I needed to cut back on certain "unnecessary foods".

I gave him a piece of my mind and told him that I didn't ask for his critique or criticisms, nor did I appreciate his attitude toward my recent weight discovery. I pointed my finger in his face and dared him to say one more word! He just raised his eyebrows at me, apologized for getting in the way, and slunk down behind the steering wheel. I know that I've gained weight, and I'm positive over the past year he's noticed it too, but he doesn't need to point out the obvious, or agree with me about it! A simple "you always look great, babe" would have been nice. Sheesh, is that too much to ask for?

As soon as I got home I ran for my closet and ripped my stretchable sweatpants off their hanger. I hurriedly stripped and pulled them on. I had never felt more relief from my elastic pants than at that moment. I folded the jeans on my bed and vowed to lose enough weight that I would no longer need to blame the dryer for the tightness of my britches.

raindrops

2008-12-20T07:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Ben and I had to stop by Target for something (after Costco, Target is our 3rd home) and there were no parking spots available up close so we had to park near the back and walk. I decided to carry him because of the long journey, and as we were walking it started to sprinkle random drops.

Ben was holding his hand out palm side up, and staring up at the sky (while he was sitting like that his weight was torture on my back). Then Ben made a couple of comments about the rain, and then I began telling him about what we needed to buy in the store, all the while I'm thinking that he's listening to me... as he continues to gaze upward. So in the middle of my comment about 409 versus Fantastik! cleaner, out of his mouth comes:

"I wonder if it's coming from the clouds? I think the rain drops are from the clouds in the sky."

Just like that. Perfect English, perfect words, perfect revelation. And as his little face was getting gently pelted with water, he just kept staring up at the sky. I was speechless. I stopped walking, looked up at the clouds, and then down at him. And with special regard to not ruin the moment I hastily blurted out:

"YES! Yes you brilliant child! The rain does fall from the clouds! You are so observant! What a little genius! I'm so proud of you!" and so on and so on I ranted. Consider the moment officially ruined.

Then he looked at me like I was an idiot, and possibly...yes, I believe there was even some embarrassment in his expression. We reached the Target walkway and even though the moment was over, I smugly smiled and as I walked by perfect strangers and I held up Ben a little higher. I nodded down at other snot-smeared children's faces and thought of all the wondrous days ahead in my Ben's life. I wonder if he'll keep in touch at Harvard?

Underoo's

2008-12-19T15:05:00.001-08:00

Lately my almost-3-year-old has been showing some interest in using the potty. The past few months he'd tinkle on the toilet before taking a bath, or during bedtime in an attempt at stalling he'd suddenly need to use the restroom. Then a couple of weeks ago he started telling me before he wet his diaper, and so we started the dreaded... potty training adventure.

At first he hated underwear. Couldn't stand the things. Apparently he much preferred the heavy, pee-soaked paper feeling of a diaper over soft cotton. So we brought out some pull-ups and they were an instant hit. The first week he did very well on the potty! He went all the time with very few incidents. Then one day I tried a pair of brother's underwear on him and before I had reached the garbage to toss the previous pull-up, he had soaked through his pants--right on to my couch. Back to pull ups.

This week has gone much better. That's an understatement: it's been fantastic! Not only is he wearing underwear (which he picked out at the store himself) but he's been keeping them dry... and poop free! I still put a pull-up on at bedtime and during nap, but he's been waking up dry too! EVERY TIME! It's been 4 days now and no accidents at all, including during nap and overnight. I'm flabbergasted!

When we brought home the underwear the other day he immediately pulled some on and ran into my room to look in the mirror. Not wanting to miss a moment I grabbed my camera and followed. This is how he "checked them out" in my mirror:
So then I said, "Show them to Mommy!" so he swiveled his rear-end toward me.

Here he is looking a bit more proper, and dare I say it, more grown up.

I'm so proud of him for doing well and I hope it continues without too much drama. It's cost me his college tuition in M&M's as bribery, and he HAS to go in every public restroom we come to, but on a positive note maybe I'll finally be able to save for my retirement since I'll no longer be investing in diapers!

Indoor Soccer

2008-12-07T07:20:00.000-08:00

Jake started Indoor Soccer this weekend and it was awesome! I was not familiar with this type of game before yesterday, so it was nothing like I imagined it to be. Picture an indoor hockey rink, if you will, with rounded wall corners, and goals blended into the walls. Unlike outdoor soccer, Indoor Soccer has a referee who actually blows the whistle and calls the fouls! Coaches aren't allowed on the field, which means the kids are left to fend for themselves!

That being said... Talk about your competition! Keep in mind the age range is 5-6 year olds... There were kids elbowing other kids, pushing others against the walls, tripping, slamming down... then there was my son who was dancing around on the defense line. Other parents were calling from sidelines things like, "Keep running! Follow the ball!" or "Watch the pushing!" or "Good block! Way to stop the ball!" Then there was me, yelling, "Stop twirling!"...one more than one occasion. *eye roll*

On the sidelines, us parents were practically voiceless after the game ended. We were cheering, yelling, encouraging and laughing our way through all 44 minutes. I turned to the person sitting next to me (who happens to be the Senior Pastor at my church--his grandson is on Jake's team) and said, "I don't think my heart can take this much longer! All the excitement is going to put me in an early grave!" Then he laughed and told me I better buck up because I have two boys, and this is only the beginning!

Ice Cream Catastrophe

2008-11-23T17:33:00.001-08:00

In an attempt to start a new tradition once or twice a month called "Family Day", Hubby and I took our boys to Fenton's Ice Creamery restaurant. They serve large, gourmet-style, bowls of ice cream and other treats and desserts.

We were sat in a booth, Hubby and I on the aisle with one boy each tucked next to the wall. When the waitress came over I ordered two children's ice cream sundaes, and two adult root beer floats. Then, as an afterthought, asked her if she could please bring 4 glasses of water. Is it just me or does ice cream make everyone thirsty? Hubby assured me later that it was just me...

The water glasses arrived promptly, and shortly after our waitress brought some straws and four silverware settings wrapped inside paper napkins, and set them on the outer edge of the table. My youngest son instantly reached for his straw, followed by my 5 year-old... who bumped his water glass over in the process. Floods of water and ice cascaded over the table, eventually ending up in my seat and soaking the side of my leg.

I hurriedly whipped my Dooney bag up off the seat and scrunched my body closer to my son. "Move Mama!" he exclaimed. The napkins around the silverware bundles were soaked, my seat was soaked, and every time I moved away from the watery mess it seemed to follow me down the bench. A female employee with two small towels came over to assist us, but the look on her face clearly read, "All this from one small cup of water?" I silently nodded my head. Exactly my thoughts, lady.

It took her almost 5 minutes to clean the drippy mess up, and then we settled back into our seats. New, dry, silverware and straws were brought to our table and we continued to wait for our ice cream. Hubby lectured our son about his clumsiness around the table. I had no sooner said, "It was just an accident, dear... accidents happen to everyone", when Hubby bumped his own water glass over and I received my second bath of the day.

Up in the air went my Dooney, and down the bench I scurried, cuddling next to my child for the second time in 6 minutes. Hubby was beyond bewildered, I was beyond hysterical, and the table and napkins and silverware were soaked--again--with water. "Why do we even need water!" Hubby was yelling, scooping up the cups into his arms. "We're done with them! All of the cups are gone! This is ridiculous!" He was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his laughter. I on the other hand couldn't help myself and was crying mascara tears down my cheeks.

Hubby excused himself to get some help and when he approached the same woman again, she looked more shocked than I think was appropriate for the situation and then looked over at us like, "You can't possibly be that inept!" Once again I nodded another apologetic bob while I tried to put some of the ice into a pile.

When that mess was cleaned up and our third helping of silverware was brought over, our ice cream was finally ready. What a way to pass the time by! Our waitress brought the boys sundaes followed quickly with our floats. The size of our floats would have made the Statue of Liberty jealous. I looked with large eyes across the table at Hubby, who very sternly said, "Hold the side of your glass with one hand! We are NOT spilling these!"

I lifted up my Dooney and tried to pass it over the table so it could carefully rest on the dry bench. In doing so, I dipped the bottom corner of it into my son's whipped cream atop his sundae. "Mom!" he yelled. "Babe! Watch it!" Hubby grimaced. I began laughing again. Certainly we were not cut out for restaurants.

I made the comment about how I needed to blog this and got a glare in response from Hubby.

Luckily we made it through the remainder of our meal (leaving behind a very gracious tip), without another incident... until we reached our car and Hubby noticed he had chocolate syrup on his sleeve.

Grey's Anatomy

2008-11-14T16:39:00.000-08:00

If you love Grey's Anatomy like I do then you've followed it through all 5 seasons, and have your tivo set to religiously record it every Thursday night.

I enjoy the show for the most part. There's been some off-the-wall scenarios (Denny's stolen heart), and some really bad story lines (like the Izzy-George-Calleigh love triangle... puh-leaze), and some great characters in general (oh how I miss Addison).

What I can't stand is when a good show turns bad. I hate when the characters go stale, or when their story is so repetitive you can guess what's going to happen before it happens. And I hate when the writers just can't let things go.

The Alex and "Ava"/Rebecca story was neat. It followed a true relationship built from the beginning and made this really great history, and then voila, she appears last season all looney and mentally unstable. A good thing ruined...

The Derek/Meredith storylines have been all over the map and I swear, if the writers break them up again I'm boycotting the show all-together.

Then there's Izzy and Denny. Poor helpless Denny. He and Izzy were fantastic together, then she went and got him killed, and the poor guy's life ended before we really got to know him. We were all sad and upset with the writers, but it made for great t.v. and we eventually moved on. Then low-and-behold I watched last week's episode and who should appear but our beloved Denny! And I thought to myself, "Oh how nice! They gave him a little cameo!" But then again on last night's episode our deceased friend reappeared talking and touching and kissing Izzy! I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't going insane along with the blond girl on the screen, but yep, there they were!

So I'm completely irritated and oddly intrigued by this. What's the storyline going to be? Is Izzy completely insane? Does she have some brain tumor or neurological disorder that's preventing her from seeing things clearly? Has she completely lost her grasp on reality? I'm curious as to what others think about this peculiar tale...

Dresser Demolition

2008-11-04T19:01:00.001-08:00

I was unhappily enjoying my afternoon, disgruntled and irritated that a sewing project I had been working on was turning out poorly (it would have looked better if I had put my five-year-old in charge), when from the deepest dungeons of my house came a very loud thud, followed by a crying child. I muttered something inappropriate under my breath and heaved myself up from my chair.

I was sauntering toward the bedroom where all the noise had originated from, when Jake (the five-year-old) said in a calm, although slightly panicked voice, "Mom? You better come faster..." I picked up my heels and ran! When I rounded the corner to Jake's room this is what I saw:
The entire dresser had fallen face-first down to the carpet, spilling its entire contents out from underneath, and throwing its lamp and darth vader room monitor forward. Ben, my two-year-old, was laying underneath the lamp cord, about 10 inches from the top of the dresser--and he was crying!

"Oh My Gosh!!! What happened?!?! Are you okay? Did it hit you? Where are you hurt? WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE?!?!" You can imagine the images rapidly shuffling through my mind at that moment. Jake, who had been standing on his bed, answered, "All I did was open my sock drawer and the whole thing fell over!" After noticing that my horrified expression had not even slightly diminished from my face he quickly continued, "It didn't hit him Mom, it didn't hit Ben. Just the lamp. The lamp hit Ben!" I looked at Ben who was nodding along angerly and realized he had stopped crying.

I believed Jake for several reasons: 1) I'm constantly finding him standing on his bed, reaching into the top of his sock drawer for clean under garments; 2) His eyes were as large as dinner plates, and he looked about as white as a ghost from the neck up; and 3) Ben was vividly explaining that Jake opened the drawer and then the dresser "chased him down".

I walked around the dresser carefully examining it, and found the sneaky culprit in the back: a leg of this oh-so-cheaply-made-out-of-fake-wood dresser had snapped completely off. I was happy that no one was hurt, but annoyed that this had happened. If there's not one thing to buy for these boys, there's another! I just got them all settled with enough clothes and jackets and shoes for the winter, and now I need to buy a new dresser. Good grief!

Tree Art

2008-10-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

Part of Jake's homework last week was to take a walk and collect a leaf to bring to class. Of course this turned into an art project at the pleas of both my children. So off we trotted down our street, happily enjoying the day and looking for leaves.

Jake, my finicky child, was very careful about which leaf would be "the one". He didn't want one that was bent, or too small, or an oddball color. He was searching for his version of perfection.

After we'd been walking for ten minutes we had only passed by two houses. Jake had already been searching and hunting and had turned over, stepped on, passed by without a second glance, dozens of perfectly fine leaves. I wanted to yell "It's a leaf! Who gives a flying can of tuna!"... but I resigned to say: "Every leaf is a little bit different honey... just pick one that's halfway decent and you'll be good." *mentally rolled eyes*

Finally after another excruciating ten minutes of leaf searching he finally found exactly what he was looking for. The Heavens shined down on it, as it glowed from the gutter. It was a simple leaf, yellow in color, soft in texture, and had no marks or torn edges of any kind. Just as he held it up to show me, a gust of wind blew whisking the leaf out of his gentle fingers, and sending it into the street. My breath caught in my throat when it was almost swallowed up by the passing-by of an SUV.

"Quick! Into the bag!" I shouted. I was not about to endure another half an hour of this. Once it was safely and securely in the bag we continued our walk (with me secretly veering the children toward home).

While Jake had been concentrating on finding the Beauty Queen of all leaves, Ben had filled his baggie with darn near 80 leaves. Some were bent, some were torn, some were dirty, some were infested with bugs... and he was happy as could be about it. So then Jake whined that he only had one and apparently life wasn't very fair to him, and his baggie should be equally filled. He filled his bag quickly--at my insistence--and then off we trekked for home.

We made "trees" out of brown construction paper (which the kids crumpled up to resemble the "trunk"), and then they glued their leaves on the top. They loved this project and were so impressed with it! As soon as they were dry, up on the fridge they went!

Why?

2008-10-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

We've reached that dreadful stage where every other word out of Ben's mouth is "Why?" He'll be 3 in January and he's smart, and capable, and totally curious about the world around him. I can't say that I blame him; there's a lot of interesting things to look at and experience... but if he asks me "Why?" one more time I think I might blow my top!

When Jake was that age he didn't ask too many "Why?" questions. He did a little, but we'd answer him pretty thoroughly and he would contently withdraw any further questions. Ben... not so much.

We saw a fire truck come sailing down the road tonight, lights flashing, siren wailing, horn honking, and I made the mistake of saying, "Look Ben! A fire truck!" That led him to ask where it was going. A fair question, so I promptly answered that it was probably going to help someone who was injured. This led to "Why Mom?"
"Because that's what firemen do."
"Why?"
"They help those who are hurt. They go to their house."
"Why? Why Mom?"
"Because that's their job."
"Why? ...Why? ...Why Mom? ...Mom? ...MOM!"
"What!!!"
"Why, Mom? For 'da fire? On da house?"
"Yes. Look! McDonald's!"

This is a sad, but typical situation that happens pretty regularily. He asks why objects are certain colors, why the dogs have hair, why I brush my teeth, why the food stays at the table, why, why, and more why! Sometimes I answer, "Because I said so!" or "Just because!" But he has no clue what "because" means, so it's in one ear and out the other. I'm hoping it's a phase that will end soon!

Lab, Part 2

2008-10-17T20:02:00.000-07:00

You'll want to read "Lab, Part 1" first to catch up...

Hubby was carrying Ben and we gingerly stepped into the vampire's lair--oh, sorry, Kaiser's laboratory. A lovely woman at the end of the table asked if the blood work was for the "baby". We responded "yes" and she asked us to come sit down in front of her.

I was completely dreading this. I thought, "Ben's going to take one look at that needle, freak out, I'll cry the big ugly cry... this will not go well for either of us." But instead I said, "he's never done this before, just so you know!" I kind of giggled a nervous laugh to show that I was a breezy, go-with-the-flow kind of Mom, but I didn't think I was fooling anyone.

This Lab tech bubbled over-the-top with kindness and friendliness. She talked to Ben a long time, explaining how things worked and what she was doing as she was doing them. She used real words like, "blood" and "tourniquet" and "needle", but she said them all with this soothing, gentle tone and Ben was completely mesmerized. Then she said, "Okay, I'm going to poke your arm here with this little needle and it'll pinch for a minute." Hubby was holding Ben's other arm down tight to his side, while I was busy removing all the blood from my own hands by clenching my fingers together tightly.

Another tech came over to help "hold down" the arm that was being worked on. Good grief, it was probably more dreadful for me to watch then for Ben to feel. There were some Halloween decorations on the walls and I was trying to distract Ben by pointing them out but he was transfixed by what was happening in front of him. The tech's were telling him things like, "Wow! Look at your muscles!" and "Let's test how big and strong your muscles are!" and "Let's see how healthy your muscles are!" which of course Ben just ate up! He was nodding confidently and answering, "Yeah!" and "They big!" and stuff. He was such a doll to watch! Every now and then he'd say, "Ow." But nothing more. Then she pulled off the last tube, removed the needle quickly and put a cotton ball on his arm.

"Okay! That's it big guy! You were awesome! I can't believe how good you were!" she was saying. I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time and was now nervously trying to inhale some air. I laughed out loud and patted Ben on his back. I was so extremely proud of how well he acted. I couldn't believe how calm and sweet he was about the whole thing! The Nurses and Lab tech's were just eating him up! Complimenting him and us. Then when we left the laboratory and exited through the waiting room three different people commented on how well he had behaved! Ben deserved a big treat after that, so we picked up his brother from school and went straight for ice cream!

Lab, Part 1

2008-10-17T19:34:00.000-07:00

Hubby and I took Ben to Kaiser the other day to get some Lab work done. He needed several tubes of blood taken from his arm, and we also needed to pick up a "stool sample" kit (oh, the joys of parenthood). When we arrived at the Lab department, Hubby sat in a seat with Ben in the waiting area while I walked up to the counter to register.

I handed the woman behind the desk Ben's card and said, "My son needs to get some blood work done... his doctor already sent the orders through." She clicked something on the keyboard and then looked at me with a straight face and said, "He'll need his ID."

I kind of chuckled to myself, and while restraining the urge to laugh I responded, "Well he doesn't have one!" She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, glanced over at Hubby and Ben, and then looked back at me and continued: "Well, he'll need an ID to get his labs done."

Is she serious? I looked at her carefully but her expression was totally deadpan. It threw me off for a moment and I thought, Wow! Am I totally out of it? Is this the new thing parents are doing now? Getting ID cards for their babies? I cautiously said, "He doesn't have an ID..." but she didn't remove her stare from my face so I quickly explained, "He's only two!" ...and then I laughed because this conversation seemed completely ridiculous to me!

She looked quizzically over at Hubby and Ben again, and then glanced at her computer and said, "Well it says here he's 32, so he should have one! He'll need one to be admitted." Good grief! I mean, granted I've been a little tired all week due to a nasty cold, but do I really look old enough to have birthed a 32-year-old? Sheesh, I'm not even 30 myself! That'll be the last time I skimp out in the makeup department--sick or not!

It was then that she corrected herself and said, "Oh. I get it, 32 months. He's only two-and-a-half." Still deadpan... Was she for real? She then handed me a bag with a cup and gave me some instructions on removing the stool from his diaper. She told me to line the diaper with a plastic bag first, and then take my sample from there. Apparently this woman does not have children of her own, nor does she know of any kid under the age of thirty. Try explaining to a two-year-old that we need to line his butt with plastic to catch his poop. Yeah right! He'd hold it in for days if I did that! I mentally rolled my eyes and nodded along.

She gestured toward a door, "Okay you can go on in." After another mental eye roll I signaled to Hubby that it was time to face the music.

2008-10-10T07:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon time got away from me a little and before I knew it my kids were whining for dinner. I glanced at the clock and realized it was already 5:00 and I didn't have anything ready. I knew my kids would declare they were starving at 5:01 so I had to move fast! I was opening the cupboards looking for something to prepare (you know me, not one to plan ahead) and pulled out some pasta. This started a whole array of questions:

"What is that Mommy?"
"It's the spaghetti before it's cooked. This is how I buy it."
"Why is it long? Does it bend? Do we eat that? How does it cook?"
To eliminate the number of questions barreling at me I held the bag out to my eldest.
"Oh, cool! Can I have a stick?"
"Me too! Me too!"

Of course the "sticks" were cracked and broken in no time at all and they were begging for more. I reached into the back of my cupboard where I had some old pasta, circa 1996. I handed each kid a pot, some scoopers, and a bowl and then poured the "retired" pasta into their containers. Jackpot! This kept them entertained throughout the entire making-of-dinner process.
Ben was talking non-stop, explaining that he was making meatballs and macaroni and cheese.
Jake was working so diligently, and he was concentrating so hard that he had a very stern expression on his face. I actually stood there with the camera for a couple of minutes waiting for him to smile or something, and then said, "Jake are you enjoying this?" And he assured me he was. So then I said, "Prove it!" and this was his expression:
Here he made a smoothie! Yum! Bean and pasta smoothie! That'll get the intestines flowing!
I had made it very clear at the start of this project that I did not want to see any beans or pasta on the ground. In this picture I asked Ben, "What are you guys doing?" and he said, "Oh, Day-tub spilled so he keening up!" Then he was pointing out the couple of beans on the floor to him saying, "Over here, Daytub... over dat way!" It was funny!
So yes, let me point out how much I hate my kitchen. The floor is this marbled-gray tile with brown grout, and my counter (as much counter space as I have) is all white tile with brown grout. So pretty. I can't believe how tiny my kitchen looks in these pictures...

Tech talk terror

2008-10-04T14:28:00.000-07:00

I was working in a Microsoft Word document typing something up and was trying to make it a little more "creatively pretty". The original font styles that Word offered were all boring to me, so I turned to my sister--the creative genius--for help. She tells me to go to www.dafont.com for some new font styles. I think, "Wow! How neat!"

Sure enough this website offers tons and tons of new fonts and you're able to download them for free to your computer! Sounded good to me! I found a couple I liked, clicked the "download" button, and waited. Nothing appeared in my Word font box. Hmm... Now I'm not a very techy person, so back to my sister I went. I explained my computer problem and that I couldn't figure out how to download the new font. She said, "I did it pretty easily..." go figure. This from the person who always made straights A's in school. Then she told me to click on the download box. More heavy sighs from me. Did I mention that I'm not very computer-techy?

I went back and tried again. I managed to save the new font to my computer. Great! Progress! I opened it and sure enough, there was the new font style, but no obvious way for me to type with it. Mental head scratching... I wrote a new email to my sister, and this was her reply:

"You need to unzip it and install it. What unzip program are you using? Winzip? Then are you using Vista or XP? With Vista you right click and then click "install". With XP you need to copy and paste the file into C: Windows/fonts/".

I swear I read that passage fourteen times. I was just kind of blankly staring at my screen. Was this English? Did I bump a button that automatically changed her speech to a foreign language? What's an XP... or a Vista? How do you, or what do you, "unzip"? I know files can be opened, but some have zippers?? I thought the next thing she's going to tell me is that something needs to be "unbuttoned" or "put on a hanger" or "laid out to dry". I was beyond lost...

I randomly started pushing buttons and copying and pasting the darn font file to every windows folder I found. Finally, after sweating pretty profusely, I found the Windows Font folder. It was hiding between other files like "dell", "media", and "WinSxS". Who knew what they were for, as long as I found the correct folder I was happy. I dabbed my underarms and continued working. I finally managed to copy and paste and get the new font in the correct place!

I was thrilled! Mentally I was exhausted, physically I was a headachy-sweaty mess, but emotionally I was excited to have learned a new, cool techy move! Thanks to my lovely Sis for all her help, but I think next time I'll look up "Downloading New Fonts For Dummies" and see if it's written in English...

Pre-heat, Re-heat

2008-10-03T17:25:00.000-07:00

It's not a shock to those who know me that I'm not the world's next Rachel Ray. I can heat a can of soup to perfection, boil water like it's going out of style, and make a mean plate of nachos. However, I burn food without meaning to, and I under cook and overcook just about everything. I hate to meal plan, and we often have repetitive dinners week after week. Seriously, how much spaghetti can one girl cook? Or eat!

Recently I discovered it's not cooking the food that I despise, but cooking in the evening. I'm dog tired by the end of the day and the last thing I feel like doing is cooking a big meal... especially when my kids start whining that they're hungry a little after four. And it never fails that when I'm elbow deep in chicken carcass my children decide that that's the moment they'll fall and get hurt/pull out all the paints/spill milk on the table/color on the couch... Not to mention their incessant whining and complaining that they're starving and can't possibly survive waiting thirty more minutes to eat. I have no patience for whining. And I have even less at dinnertime.

So lately my solution has been to cook my meals at lunchtime, or in the early afternoon, and store it until dinner! Now when dinner time arrives I pull out my Gladware, un-pop the top, and shove it in the microwave. A high level of radiation does the trick and voila! Dinner is served! Of course there are the times (usually when Hubby is home) when I'll cook a fresh meal in the evening, but at least I've found my silver lining for all those other days.

Sprinkle Art ...Again

2008-10-01T08:48:00.001-07:00

Remember this blog? Well, Ben was at it again! He's been begging me and begging me to do another sprinkle picture so I conceded and below is the end result:

I think there's something fun in the fact that he gets to throw food around on a piece of paper, in hopes that it lands in glue blobs here-and-there! The last "cake" he made was up on our fridge for weeks before he finally let me take it down. I tried to draw cupcakes instead, or a double-layered cake... but no, it has to be this specific style of cake (if you can call it a "style") or it's not good enough! LOL

Privacy

2008-09-30T18:50:00.000-07:00

Lately my five-year-old is obsessed with his personal privacy. All of the sudden he needs to have the bathroom door closed when he's using the restroom. Or he needs to change his clothes somewhere private, like in his room with the door shut... and then inside the closet *rolls eyes*. It doesn't faze him that I still help wash his body in the bath tub or shower, or that I shampoo his hair... or that I help him to dry off after the bath...

I think it's interesting that he's developing a new emotion in regards to his privacy. We've never made a big deal about his body parts, or ours, but all on his own he no longer feels completely secure with himself to just "show himself". I'm not sure why but this just fascinates me. Without expecting it my child has aged into this other person... no longer baby-like, but someone much older! I bet soon he'll want to start wearing his pants below his knees, and he'll want to pierce something... God help us all!

Facebook

2008-09-24T07:13:00.000-07:00

The other day (okay, a couple of months ago) my sister tells me: "You've got to create a facebook page! It's so fun!" So I'm thinking, oh, maybe it's a beauty website about makeup or facials... Nope, it's another "blog", "myspace", "broadcast your life all over the internet" kind of a thing... It took awhile, but now my children have to be bleeding for me to pry myself away. You can view my page here!

Recently I'm hooked on it. I just uploaded a motherload of pictures today (half of which I credited to my professional photographer). So instead of "leaving comments" you "write on walls" (my two year old would go nuts at the sound of that). You can look up people and send them an email asking to "be friends" with you. How fun?! I've had cousins whom I haven't spoken with in decades (no exaggeration) email me.

This is the last thing I need, another reason to be on the computer. Between this blog, my MySpace page (which I'm horrible at checking or updating), my flickr site (again, not very good at keeping it current... the last pictures I uploaded are from the 80's I think), my online stay-at-home-Mom's playgroup (yes, we meet in person, we just chat online), ebay, and of course my celebrity gossip links... it's a wonder my house stays clean, my kids are fed, and the bills are paid on time.

Puppies!

2008-09-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

My Hubby and I breed Labs professionally and this past weekend our yellow female, Chloe, gave birth to 4 puppies! Three black and only one yellow! They are the cutest things! I know what you're thinking, "You must be crazy to voluntarily invite other creatures that eat and poop into your home"... but we love it!

Here's Jake enjoying the yellow pup, whom he named Green Bay Packer. *rolls eyes*
Now here's me and Green Bay Packer... they'll open their eyes around 10 days...

Ben loves all the puppies and thinks it's so great when they're in the warmer! He loves to sit by them and tell them, "Shh... okay?!" when they squeal.
This is how he's "soft" with them...
Having a litter with only 4 pups is extremely odd, usually for Labs the litters are much larger. For some reason God only gave us a handful, and we feel blessed regardless. We might have to raise the prices to $6000 each to make up the difference, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there!

Kindergarten

2008-09-16T14:46:00.001-07:00

I had the pleasure of working in my son's Kindergarten class today! Last week he came home from school and announced, "There was a Mom in the class today. When are you going to come?" So today I came!

When I walked in, the class was just returning from playing outside. The teacher asked if I'd like to be in charge of the art project so I said "Yes!" Little did I know that it involved lots of glitter and glue, not to mention 20 students. Well... you can imagine! This week the class was working on the letter "d" so the children were gluing glitter on a sheet with a large "d". The project was simple but oh so messy! Glitter was everywhere! And everyone had glitter on their clothes and hands, in their hair, and on their faces. It was crazy fun!

I enjoyed watching Jake interact with the other students in the class. I got to see where he fit in academically and socially. He seemed to be a pretty popular kid and had tons of friends following him around wanting to play with him. I was happy to see him sitting patiently on his bottom during "rug time", and raising his hand to respond to the class discussion. (we need order like this at home!)

I didn't envy the teacher at all! Twenty kids all pining for her attention and acceptance... I'll remember this around the Christmas season! Thank you to all the teachers out there who constantly pour love into their students!

Frozen Food

2008-09-15T14:08:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine and her family are moving to Hawaii this week (why can't we all be that lucky), and she mentioned that she had a bunch of frozen items she would like to dispose of, so I said, "send 'em over here!" I was expecting a couple of brown paper bags with some frozen pizzas, maybe some microwaveable dinners, etc...

I couldn't have been more wrong! She brought a huge tub overflowing with food, and another large bag also filled to the brim! There were frozen french bread pizzas, microwaveable dinners, french toast sticks, push-up pop's and ice cream sandwiches, tubs of ice cream, toaster strudels, frozen fruit, and soda! Not to forget there were tons and tons of Schwan's frozen items like stuffed pasta shells, cheddar cheese biscuits, salmon, shrimp, cookie dough, and more!

I offered to pay her for the food several times and she just waved my hand away and dismissed my offers with a guffaw of laughter. This is the kind of wonderful person she is. Including the Schwan's, there was definately over $150 worth of frozen product! Good thing we have a fridge and freezer in the garage along with our indoor one! I couldn't believe my luck! All I need for the next couple of weeks are fresh fruit and veggies, and maybe some fresh meat, and we're set!

Angels

2008-09-12T19:23:00.000-07:00

Something was drastically altered with my children today! Sometime this afternoon (probably while I was sorting that never-ending pile of laundry) something mysterious happened... The usual sounds of the whining, bickering, mischievous little devils I call my "sons" had disappeared, and in its place were pleasant, polite, obedient noises coming from content boys with clean clothes and happy faces. I thought, "Very funny Lord, now what did you do with my children?"

I was hearing more "please" and "thank you" manners than I have ever heard come out of their little mouths before. And the "please" wasn't followed by ..."remove your hand from my throat". The boys were generally enjoying each others company! I know, it sounds strange, but trust me I saw it!

Jake was patiently teaching Ben how to play XBox (just what we need, another video game fanatic in the family), but it didn't stop there! Jake was also encouraging him on, and congratulating and cheering for Ben! I was floored. I lifted up Ben's shirt (half expecting to find some sort of alien goo oozing underneath) but all I found was a pink pudgy tummy with chocolate pudding remnants on it.

The boys ate all their dinner without complaining (courtesy of McDonald's, but still) ...and the good behavior continued through bath time. There was NO water spilled over the edge of the tub, no soap in a helpless victim's eye, and my shower curtain remained dry and in tact on the rod. Pajamas were put on without protest, books were read quietly, and both boys trooped off to bed on time without complaint.

I honestly could not believe my day. I was actually able to sit through an entire episode of Days Of Our Lives--uninterrupted! Did you know Sami has twins now? Phillip has gone over to the dark side, and when did Brady become a drug addict? All important info that I had been missing out on!

Not that I'm complaining--but would it be too much to ask for the kids to behave like this when I'm sick with the flu, or on a day when my PMS is off the hook, or I have a killer headache?

Church

2008-09-07T15:36:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days in Church where I desperately wanted to be "in the moment" but couldn't help myself... there were distractions everywhere! There was a Jr. High aged boy sitting to my left, doodling on the weekly pamphlet (we've all done that), and occasionally he'd whisper to his Mom, or he'd cross, and then un-cross his legs... and cross, and un-cross them again.

To my right was a woman, maybe late 40's, and to her right was (probably) her son, who was maybe in his twenties. The two of them were talking and whispering throughout the ENTIRE service! And not quietly! Most of their conversations were about the Bible passages we were discussing (in the book of Titus), but seriously! I felt like telling them to "zip it, lock it, and put it in your pocket"!

And in the middle of service I really needed to use the restroom, but sat stewing in my seat for several minutes debating a good time to quietly slip out. I hate leaving in the middle of Church! I feel like every person is staring at me as I leave, and it always sounds like the doors are slamming behind you, further announcing your departure. "Don't mind Jen, she couldn't bother to use the facilities before leaving the house!" I had this vision that if I stood up to exit the Pastor would stop his service and make an announcement: "We'll wait until you come back." Then, to make matters worse, you have to re-enter the Church auditorium where a multitude of people turn to watch you return to your seat. It's just torture! But when nature calls, it doesn't wait for a polite moment, it's usually during a meeting, or a movie, or something like that.

God knows my heart, and he knows my efforts... right??

kids camera

2008-09-04T17:28:00.000-07:00

When I turned on the camera today, these are some photos that I found (the boys are hiding under the art easel outside):
I think this one is hilarious because it shows that they started to get silly:
...and here's one of Charlie:
...this is actually a Hot Wheels-sized car that was zoomed in on:
...and Charlie's feet:
I had no idea they had grabbed my camera and snapped away to their hearts content! (Sheesh, what kind of parent am I that I don't have a clue to my children's whereabouts and activities!)

Strawberry Explosion!

2008-09-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

For a treat today I took my kids to the dollar store and let them choose a candy of their choice. Jake chose a Twix bar, Ben chose licorice, and I chose a two-and-a-half liter (for only 99 cents!!!) of Shasta strawberry soda. It's the yummiest soda and I rarely buy it for myself.

When I got home I stuck the bottle in the fridge for a few minutes, folded some laundry, and then pulled from the cupboard a tall blue cup to enjoy a refreshing drink. I casually untwisted the top and that's when it happened: strawberry soda EXPLODED everywhere! All over me, all over the counters, across every surface... except not a single drop landed inside my blue cup.

This is about 1/3 of one of the counters that was doused:
See how it continues down the counter...
All over the floors, covering the entire bottom half of my fridge, and all of the cabinets (which is hard to tell in the picture):
This is our doggie/kid gate, which was about four feet away, and it had several areas on it (like in the picture) where puddles collected on the top, and drips flowed all the way down through the poles: Somehow between my screaming and the pink shower I was getting, I managed to literally throw the soda bottle into the sink (spewing it's contents in the process):
I had already done a bunch of house work this morning and was planning on folding the last load of laundry in the dryer, and then kicking up my feet to relax. Instead I spent the next half and hour cursing under my breath, and kicking myself in the rear for even buying soda when I'm supposed to be "eating healthier" ...while I cleaned up this disaster. I know what you're thinking, "Why stop to take pictures! Grab a sponge! Grab a towel!" But I couldn't resist. I didn't even know where to start. There was pink dripping from my kitchen sink, sliding down numerous walls, dripping from the counter tops, drying in pink puddles on the floor... where does one begin?! You begin with a camera so all your bloggers will appreciate it later!

Hubby's an Equal Half

2008-09-03T13:08:00.001-07:00

My Hubby is a tall, fair skinned, blue-eyed, "balding" (or rather bald with a little peach fuzz) man, and for the past few years he has sported a slightly bulgeoning belly. I've never minded this before because it's more of him to love... it also helps me with my self esteem knowing he's not perfect either. He's almost 6'3 so when I hug him it's comfortable for my face to be buried in a pudgy pillow then up against rock-hard abs. (Yeah, right... or so I've convinced myself.)

I think I can speak for most women who openly admire the looks of such men as Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Wentworth Miller, etc... but I would not want to be married to one of these guys. Nice to gaze at over coffee in the morning, sure! But what would they have to look at in return? My frizz-ball of a hairdo, my sleep-swollen eyes, and my morning breath (which has been known to defrost a chicken in an under a minute). I wouldn't be able to keep up with these men! It's too much pressure for a "normal" chick like myself. I need to be able to burp under my breath, cough up my morning phlem, hang my bras around the bathroom to dry, and not give a hoot if my toenail polish is half chipped off.

I've always felt confident knowing that I have the love and devotion of a man who is more my type. Chicken legs and skinny feet... Sun tanned arms with a chest so white that when his t-shirt is off you can't tell if his undershirt is still on. Calloused fingers and muscular shoulders... stubbled face. The every-man! Not the type that requires beauty-pageant elegance on a regular basis! Good grief, to think about the daily rituals and headaches that Jennifer Lopez or Katie Holmes must go through! Thank goodness I've been spared from that life! Whew!

dog lovin's

2008-08-26T18:33:00.001-07:00

My kids were happily playing a game of "construction Star Wars" in the living room, when our dog Charlie stopped by for a visit! He plopped himself in the middle of their play area and layed on his back for a belly rub. This is Ben quickly moving toys out of the way to make room for him:
You see, Charlie weighs about 90 pounds, but he thinks he's the size of a gerbil. He'll come over to wherever someone is standing and literally lay on top of that person's feet to be "loved".
This is Jake loving him back! After this photo was taken, Charlie patiently and happily laid there while Jake explained the various Star Wars characters to him.

Sprinkle Art

2008-08-26T18:26:00.001-07:00

If you don't mind getting a little messy, this is always a fun art project! I drew the outline of a "cake" on a piece of paper, and then made "decorative" designs with glue... then Ben got to shake sprinkles all over! I'd highly suggest doing it on a tray or cookie sheet, or in a pan to help contain some of the mess!
I said, "Ben, show me how fun this is!" and this is the expression he gave me:
And the finish product...
After Ben was finished and had left the room I began to clean up. I instantly regretted my extra-positive cheers of "shake it harder!" as my feet began to crunch on the floor with every step I took. It's been about eight hours since that project and I'm still finding green and red sprinkles here and there... maybe next time I'll do it outside and let the dogs lick up the remains!

X-ray

2008-08-25T11:16:00.000-07:00

This morning Ben was scheduled to go to Kaiser for a Radiology appointment. He was supposed to drink a very chalky, thick, milk-of-magnesia-consistency drink and then the Radiologist would track his digestion through a live x-ray machine. Ben's Pediatrician had called me on Friday and set up the appointment for Monday (today). Because the appointment was so sudden, and because we had no time for me to be mailed the appropriate paperwork about the appointment, Ben's doctor "reviewed" with me the instructions over the phone.

During the call he had said, "Let me just zone out here for a minute and see if I can find any specific instructions (on the computer)." Then he followed with, "Nope, nothing. Just show up a few minutes early." I asked him at that point, "So it's okay for him to eat a normal breakfast?" and he agreed that that should be fine. He and I went back and forth for a minute discussing fasting and he said he didn't find any special instructions regarding that, so I decided I would just feed him an early breakfast so he would be "hungry" enough to drink the "smoothie". Ben's doctor agreed that "yes, that should be just fine."

Back to this morning...
We arrived at the Radiology appointment a few minutes early and they ushered us in almost immediately. As we were led down one of the millions of hallways (Hubby commented that a person could get seriously lost in a hospital) the technician inquired as to when Ben ate his last meal. So I happily replied, "Oh, he had breakfast at about seven."

No joke she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at me. She checked her watch, it was about nine o'clock. Hesitantly she continued, "And what exactly did he have? Because he's not supposed to have eaten anything! He was supposed to fast from Midnight on!"

I'm sure my expression was more than shocked! I am rule-follower down to the umph detail, so to me this was a completely humiliating moment. I stuttered for a second and answered her, "Well, he had about 2/3 of an Eggo waffle and one small strawberry." Again she lectured me on the importance of fasting before an event like this. I then explained that Ben's doctor had booked the appointment and he didn't mention fasting. I told her the big long story I just told you. She "needed to check with the doctor on staff", so we sat in the hallway and waited. A little while later she returned to tell us that we needed to reschedule for another day so Ben could properly fast.

Rescheduling was not an easy task! I asked for the earliest appointment possible since he's so little, and she informed me that 9:10 was the first appointment of the day. We walked to the reception area and she announced at the top of her voice to the receptionist, "She needs to reschedule because she fed the baby breakfast and he was supposed to fast." Naturally the waiting room was filled to the brim with other patients, causing me to feel like I deserved a "World's Worst Mom" award.

Then as the receptionist looked through the computer database, she found an appointment a couple of weeks away at 10:45. I shook my head "no". She found an open spot for a day this week at 11:30. Clearly the woman does not have children. I said, "No. He gets up at 6:30, there's no way he can make it that long. It HAS to be the first appointment of the day." So then I waited for another twenty minutes while she tried calling the Vallejo office for an appointment. Finally we were successful and were able to reschedule for later this week.

I was irritated with the whole situation. I could not believe that Ben's doctor didn't know he was supposed to fast! I couldn't believe we wasted an hour out of our morning in the company of a rude nurse. And now we had to drive to a different city on a different day because of Ben's doctor's incorrect information! We get to go through all of this again on Friday. woopee.

Kindergarten

2008-08-21T14:13:00.000-07:00

This week Jake started Kindergarten! It was a chapel day, so this was his uniform:
He seemed very excited to go and didn't seem in the least bit nervous. I was sweating like a pig out of anxiety, but blamed the "early morning heat" so as not to appear wimpy. I didn't think Jake would cry (he puts on a pretty tough exterior), but still it was a new place with new people and I had no idea what would happen! Well, he marched right in and sat down and was ready to go!After he sat down I leaned over a bit and whispered in my Mommy-knows-best tone of voice, "You let us know when you're ready for us to leave and we'll step out!" He waited all of three seconds and without barely a glance upward he mumbled, "Okay, go! Bye!" I was a little surprised to say the least! "Can I at least have a hug?" I ventured. That comment was met with this kind of face:
Sheesh, throw a dog a bone! "Fine, we'll stand in the back of the classroom for a few minutes." I glanced to my left and found many teary eyed parents and not one teary eyed child. I looked over my shoulder to the right and found a poor Mom waving to her daughter. Her daughter was absorbed in a fit of giggles with another little girl and didn't seem to notice. I could sympathize.

I slowly stepped out into the hall and looked at a woman standing guard next to me. She raised her eyebrows to me and said, "Well I thought he'd have a hard time but he's so involved with the dinosaurs I think I can leave now." I smiled politely and glanced around the corner at the dinosaur area to where her son was playing. Yep, no tears in that department! "Good for him!" I encouraged. She asked which child was mine, and I pointed to my little lad sitting at a table already engrossed in conversation with another blond-haired boy. The woman stated that Jake seemed to be doing alright too! I nodded... but still we waited.

A couple of times I thought Jake was glancing in my direction and I'd raise my hand to wave to him but he never looked over. He was content, which is every parent's dream for their child's first day of school, but something was troubling me. What was this hold he had on me? Surely I could walk outside, drive off and not look back, but something was holding me firm. My feet felt glued to the spot! I guess it was love, or something sappy like that...

Another blog about weight...

2008-08-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

I had a very unsettling resolution the other day: I had gained weight. An obvious, too-many-nachos-and-soda kind of weight. All of my shorts were snug across the bottom (if you looked closely enough you could read my Victoria's Secret label) and my buttons and zippers were practically bursting at the seems!

This past Saturday we were traveling to my sisters house, which isn't a fancy affair, but I wanted to look cute and it had been hot out so shorts seemed necessary. I actually went through four pairs of shorts trying to find some that were suitable. One pair were to "exercisey" for me; another pair were too tight across the waist; and a third pair were okay (if spandex was back in style).

It was the forth pair that did me in! They were just fine when I was standing up, but as soon as I would start to sit the fat would just ooze out like extra cheese on a pizza. So I thought, "well, what if I just stand all day?" That's no good, surely I'd get tired. But I seriously weighed over this decision. What IF I stood all day? That's not that awkward looking, right? Who would notice? I could just casually lean against the counter tops, and rest one foot up here and there on a stool... Oh, but the car ride down... it's over an hour! So I told myself I could just unbutton the shorts in the car, and when I got there I'd suck it in and put the button back in place!

I tried out my plan on a chair in my dining room. However, as soon as I sat down there was a muffin top explosion! I was quickly becoming short of breath, so I hurriedly unbuttoned my shorts and before I could stop it, the fat had taken on a mind of its own and unzipped the zipper by itself! I looked like Al Bundy from Married With Children. This wouldn't work at all!

My self-esteem and body image were bypassing depression and heading straight for suicidal when I got a sudden burst of hope! My safety jeans! Every woman I've ever met has a pair of safety jeans. These are the jeans that look fabulous no matter what size you are! If you've lost some weight they hang off your hips in a funky, casual, too-skinny-to-care kind of way, and if you've gained weight they "accentuate" your curves in a most flattering way. You can pair them with heels, sandals, or tennis shoes and they always look great!

I ran to my closet and threw on my safety jeans. Okay, so they were more "accentuating" than "hanging" but by golly they worked! I instantly felt better... okay maybe I'd been watching too much of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants but I needed anything at that point to boost my confidence. *sigh* It was such a great movie... now on to real life...

Sweeter Than Chocolate

2008-08-10T13:39:00.000-07:00

Meet Maia (pronounced My-uh)! She's a beautiful chocolate Lab pup that we "rescued" from a family who could no longer care for her. She's purebred, with AKC paperwork and she's a total sweetheart! She'll be staying with us for a few days while we find a suitable home for her (we have several positive prospects right now).

She loves to play in the hose water, she loves to play with cats (yup, you heard right) and she's an all-around well mannered pup. We read over her AKC paperwork and found out she's the same age as our pup Charlie! They were born on the same day, March 26, 2007! What a small world!

It was love at first sight for Hubby when he picked her up today and I had to remind him that NO we are not keeping her and YES we will be finding a home for her ASAP! Hubby's walking around like it's Christmas morning, while I'm standing by ready to throw coal in his pants the next time he "suggests" she stays here. The last thing we need is another mouth to feed! Especially when we already have two that drool and shed like it's going out of style.

Dog Drama

2008-08-05T19:44:00.001-07:00

I had just emailed my Mom this evening and told her I was behind on my blogging when God saw an opportunity and ran with it...

I walked by my french doors that open to the backyard and saw my lab, Charlie, lying on the grass casually holding something between his paws. Then I saw him lean down and nibble a bit. It looked dark in color so I immediately begin muttering under my breath something about the kids not keeping their toys picked up. I sighed heavily and yanked the door open.

"Charlie! Leave it!" I scolded. He glanced up casually as if to say, "You called?"

"Leave it!" I hollered again, and then pointed toward the side yard. "Go!" Clearly he was not willing to budge (stubborn mutt, gets the trait from my Hubby). I huffed out toward the lawn and said, "Come." Again he stared at me and cocked his head sideways a bit. I swear he curled his claws into the grass roots even deeper as if to say, "Go ahead, make me."

As I walked a little closer I couldn't quite make out the dark object. I squinted my eyes a bit and leaned forward. It seemed to be shredded some, as if he'd been working on it awhile. It looked like a type of hand glove or towel. I bent down a little closer... nope, dead bird. It was a dead, torn-to-pieces, de-fluffed, partially de-feathered bird carcass. EWWW!!!

I shrieked, jump backward, and then threw up a little in my throat. I shaked the willy-nilly's out of me and tried to swallow some saliva to ease the vomit sensation. Charlie took my commotion as an invitation to play and began dancing around trying to lick me. "Get away! Shoo! Ew! Gross!" spewed out of my mouth at warp speed in his direction.

I locked him behind the side fence and tiptoed back toward the dead bird. I quietly looked at it again, gagged, and headed back inside toward the phone. I dialed Hubby at work and explained my drama. Much to my surprise he started to chuckle. "Well look at that! He's doing what he was made to do. These are bird dogs, you know!" The man couldn't have sounded more impressed.

"Oh, really! How exciting! Good for him! Now come home and clean this mess up!" I snapped into the phone! He casually instructed me to "just get a bag and scoop it up and throw it away."

"But I can't!" I wailed. "It's a bird! A nasty, gross, disgusting carcass... with the head still attached!" To this comment he pointed out the obvious, that I change poopy diapers every day. "Yes, I said. But that's poop; I know what I'm expecting! I don't open the diaper and occasionally find a dead animal laying in there!"

Needless to say, I removed the "debris" from my yard but not before almost dropping it on my foot, twice, and then using said foot to soon after step in dog poop on the way to the garbage. I swear the next time I look out and see that dog chewing something, I'm just going to let him have at it. And if his poop is in the shape of a squirrel or woodpecker or owl, then Hubby can discard of that himself!

And thanks, God, for your lovely "suggestion" of a blog!

Kraft

2008-08-04T11:29:00.000-07:00

A friend recently sent me an email with this link for the Kraft Foods website for some dinner ideas. These are all very simple, very easy to make, even for those that struggle with boiling water. I made the Crisp-and-Creamy Baked Chicken today for Hubby to pack for lunch and for the boys and I to eat for dinner and it looks delicious! It turned out exactly like the picture looks--which is an obvious statement, but sometimes I'm a little cooking-challenged myself and my food doesn't always resemble the pictured entree (who knew pesto can turn purple).

I printed out several recipes and plan on giving them a go over the next few days. I thought the jumbo meatballs looked pretty tasty, so we'll try those tomorrow!

Turtles

2008-07-29T17:50:00.000-07:00

I'm so irritated at myself. I made a poor parenting decision and I'm being reminded of it over and over again...

This past Saturday my Hubby planned a fun day for him and the boys. He wanted to roast s'mores over the fire from the BBQ in the afternoon, cook kielbasa sausage for dinner (something all three of them enjoy), and watch a fun movie that night. The boys were more than elated for a fun time with Daddy!

In preparation for the "big day" I took the boys to the video store to rent a movie. This is where my irritation began. We looked at all the newly released movies and came across "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles". When it was in the theaters Jake begged and pleated for me to take him to see it, and I consistantly said "no". When he saw it for sale at Costco, or Target, or Wal-Mart, he persisted with his desire to buy it, and again my response was "no". Now at Blockbuster it was beckoning to him from the shelves. After much deliberation I relented and agreed to rent it, thinking that Hubby would be viewing it with the kids and therefore could make a parenting call to shut it off if necessary. I was worried that my boys (Jake inparticular) would be eager to mimick the Turtle's fighting moves, aggressive behavior, and adult commentary.

It started off a little rough and a little intimidating, but turned out to be an "okay" (at best) movie. I would not recommend it and I won't let my kids rent it or own it. When it was finished I thought, "Okay, he's seen it and it's out of his system, we can put it to rest." Boy was I wrong! Not only does Jake continually talk about the movie, its characters, the plot, the "funny" things that happened, but he has begun acting out some of the Turtle's moves. And not only in imaginary play, but today at Costco (yes, I was back at Costco... again...) when I told him "no" after he asked for muffins he did a "move" I'm sure that he learned from the movie. He configured this leg-stance and he did this karate-type of movement and actually hit me!!

I'm completely annoyed, mostly at myself for allowing this to happen. What's worse is that Ben, my sweet two-year-old, has asked continually for the movie every day (which I've held a firm "no we're not watching it again" stance, and yes it's going back to Blockbuster tomorrow). I'm irritated that I knew this would be a bad choice for my kids--no judgement on other parents who own or have let their kids view it--I should have trusted my inner thoughts. I know it's a phase and eventually they'll move on to something else, but currently it's a daily reminder of my poor parenting choice. Next time I'll know to play it safe and stick with my gut.

Packing

2008-07-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

My boys and I are spending a couple of days with my Hubby's parents, their Grandma and Grandpa. They're really excited, especially because on one day of our visit we'll be spending some time at the Monterey Bay Aquarium! A wonderful community of Marine life all in one building! This will be a mini-vacation of sorts...

The problem with vacations (mini or otherwise) is all the packing that's involved! There's the obvious clothes and shoes and toiletries, for both me and the boys. And then you have extras for the kids like sleep-blankets, sunblock, the camera, batteries for the camera, medicine, jackets, diapers and wipes, stuffed animals that couldn't bear a night or two alone, extra clothes for those "just in case" moments, sand toys, inside toys, quiet toys, car toys, and extra batteries for those toys. Then there are beach towels, bathing suits (oh gosh, mine too I suppose), life jackets (because Grandpa's pool is a little deeper than our above ground pool), snacks, sippy cups, a diaper bag, and my cell phone charger all to be included too.

Did I mention we're going for 2 nights, 3 days? Is it like this for everybody or just me? If I leave something out I almost always regret it. When the camera runs out of batteries at the aquarium I don't want to pay $10 for a 2-pack of AA's. It always rains when I don't have the kids jackets in the car, or my cell phone dies while my charger is at home on the kitchen counter. Half of the time most of this doesn't even get unpacked from the car, but I always like to be prepared. Is there such a thing as being a little "too" prepared?

Sandals

2008-07-28T16:41:00.000-07:00

I had one of those "smack your forehead" moments today. After squishing Ben's thick, fat, chubby feet into his croc's today I thought, "hmm... maybe they're too small..." So after naptime we piled in the car and headed to the Stride Rite outlet to (hopefully) catch a sale.

When we got there I asked the sales associate to please measure his tootsies. He measured a 7.5 on his left foot and an 8 on his right foot... I looked down at his croc's, the size was "5/6", and I was pretty sure his tennis shoes at home were maybe size 7's. Holy Cow!! I felt like a horrible mother. It didn't help that the associate said, "he should probably get an 8 wide or an 8 1/2 wide." Good grief.

So I searched and searched and hunted through box after box looking for decent sandals for his plump feet. Twenty-five times I had to tell my kids to "stop running" "stop climbing" "stop picking" their noses. There ended up being only 4 sandals in the whole store that were a size 8 wide. He didn't like the first two pair (they pinched so I didn't blame him), and the third pair I didn't like how his foot fit in them.

Finally we came upon the last and final pair. They fit great but by then Ben's attitude had turned to sour grapes. He was ready to go (I feel ya' kid) and had no patience left. They were on sale (not cheap enough) so I was getting them regardless, but in a final attempt for him to like them I reached really far into the depths of Mommyhood and pulled out this line, "They look like cowboy boots, only they're cowboy sandals." This got a perked-up grin and big-eyed response: "Cowboy sandals! I like a Cowboy!" I knew that would work. He's currently obsessed with anything western: cowboys, horses, horseshoes, hay, rope... you name it. So I reached a little further, "You see how they're dark brown leather? Well, that's just like a cowboy's boots! Only they're sandals!" He was sold, and happily wore them home.

Here they are:

And here he is, happy to model them. So if you see us on the street, please refer his shoes to "cowboy sandals".

Party

2008-07-28T11:52:00.000-07:00

My nephew's 2nd birthday is this week and yesterday we went to his house to celebrate. It was a very small, cute party, all basketball themed! He is obsessed with basketballs, and balls in general (and I'm not using the term loosely). The boy lives and dreams balls! His parents even put a video of him on YouTube shooting basketballs into his Playskool hoop. He's too cute! And he has great aim! He puts my five-year-old away everytime!

We had a BBQ lunch and a basketball cake for dessert, courtesy of Costco (yum! love their cakes!). The house was decorated casually with basketball-themed paper supplies on the tables, and yellow balloons around the floor.

This is the part that I love best about 2 year olds: when it came time to open presents my nephew was more enthralled with the balloons then with the gifts. And there weren't many presents to open, maybe five, but his attention couldn't be taken away from the balloons! One of my gifts to him was a "professional" sized NBA Nike basketball, and when he opened that package (one of two presents he actually tore himself away from the balloons to open) he was gone. He was so happy to have it, which made me particularily pleased, that even the balloons fell short!

Balloons, bubble wrap, strings and boxes... all boring to me, fascinating to them. We bought a new fridge a couple of years ago when Jake was 3, and I remember my son played in that box for a few weeks straight, full-blast imaginary play, in the middle of our living room. He was totally captivated.

Horrible Nails

2008-07-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

My toenails were in desperate need of a make-over. My pink polish was cracked, chipped, and half peeled off, not to mention my cuticles were a disaster and the heels of my feet... well, let's just say you could crack nuts on them. Off to the nail salon!

I chose a salon I don't visit very often because they're a teensy-bit too pricey but my feet were such a disaster so I thought the occasion called for a little extra pampering! It's a big salon with about ten pedicure chairs, five lining each of the side walls, and there are at least ten manicure tables in the center of the room. It' s a pretty clean, well maintained, largely staffed facility...

I entered at 10:08 (I know this because Hubby called to whine about some missing keys at exactly that time) and told the front desk that I would like a pedicure. I was immediately asked to please wait, so I grabbed the latest issue of Us Weekly and sat down. About five minutes later there were two other women also waiting, and one of the "technicians" came over and said a bunch of things to all of us really quickly, most of which wasn't in English. She was gesturing me toward a pedicure chair in the far back on the right. "Do you want me in that chair?" I ventured. She nodded and half-walked me over toward it.

I sat in the chair and opened my magazine. It was now about 10:15. A few minutes later another staff person came over and filled my foot-tub with scalding hot water and some blue fizzies. I thought I could muster enough strength to deal with the boiling temperature, but when I saw that my nail polish was beginning to peel itself off I flagged the man down and asked for some cool water to please be added. He laughed and said something to someone in his language. Humph. Excuse me for not wanting my insides to boil!

I sat there and read my magazine, page after page for what felt like an eternity. Everyone else in the salon was being helped... everyone but me. I looked at the clock, 10:35. Hmm... I loudly closed my magazine, "cleared" my throat, and sat a little more forward in my chair. I was beginning to get pretty annoyed that no one had bothered to help me. The two chairs next to me had been empty up until a few minutes ago, so I leaned forward slightly aiming my body toward the "technician" working on the girl to my left. In my most patient voice I asked, "I'm sorry, do you know how much longer it's going to be?" She didn't look up, didn't respond, didn't acknowledge my presence. I huffed quietly to myself and muttered under my breath, "I've been waiting forever!"

And then the "technician" said something under her breath and another woman came over, the one who half-guided me to my seat, and said it would be just a moment and pointed to another "technician" who was doing something by the sink. The time was now 10:40 and I was contemplating just getting up and leaving. Then the woman at the sink said something I couldn't interpret to the woman in front of me, and back and forth a few of the tech's chattered, sometimes gesturing at me and sometimes gesturing at other clients.

Then the woman looked at me with a plastered smile on her face and said, "It be just few more minute. Just few more. Maybe 5-10." And we all know in a nail salon when they say 5-10, it means 10-20 or whenever they feel like getting around to you. So I raised my eyebrows and said, "Oh, really? I can wait a couple more minutes, but not ten." She didn't know what to make of this and just kind of stared at me, plastered smile remaining. She repeated that it would be 5-10 minutes and could I please wait. I told her (as pleasantly as possible, keeping my seething temper locked in my head), "Well I've already been waiting for over a half an hour..." she just kept staring so I continued, anger now barely contained, "I have other errands to run and things to do today." She jumped in, smile still in place but with an added fake giggle, "Oh we just have lots of appointments this morning. Lots of people." So I said, "That's fine, I understand that you have appointments but no one told me that when I walked in. If someone had told me earlier you were busy I would have just come back this afternoon... instead of waiting here soaking."

I could see this was going no where. So I made the "forget it" gesture with my body and got up to leave. She quickly came over to help drive off my feet, which were fluorescent pink from the water. As I was trying to quickly slip into my flip-flops and grab my purse she was saying, "Sorry. So sorry! You come back? Come back today!" I was thinking, "Not over my dead body, lady."

Then I had to face the most humiliating walk of shame EVER and wind my way through several other chairs, all filled with clients whose nails were gleaming, and make my way quickly out the door. The clock in my car flashed 10:46; what a waste of an hour! I was so embarrassed and completely ticked off that I almost smashed my car pulling out of the parking space. I'm a reasonable person, and if they had just told me from the beginning that they were busy I would have made an appointment for later that day.

I came home, snapped at Hubby who has no clue at all about nail salons, and went about the rest of my day. Hubby tried to make light of the situation by saying, "Hey, at least you've got clean feet!" I frowned at him and told him they weren't cleaned at all, they were pruny, blistered and pink from the water. I wonder if nail salons have an HR department so I can call to complain to someone... I'm thinking no.

Growing Babies

2008-07-25T19:35:00.000-07:00

Ben, my 2 year old, has a nightly routine: every night at about 7:15 he and his brother hit the sheets. Ben with his blanket and sippy cup and favorite toy-of-the-day, Jake with his blanket and/or a toy. And every night Jake is asleep by, oh 7:20 ish. However Ben stays awake every single night until about 8 and calls me in to his room every ten minutes or so. "Mom. M-o-m!"

Why do I encourage this behavior? You might ask... This is why: I enjoy it, as does he. He does not, and will not, fall asleep before 8 (unless he's skipped naptime one day) and he's a terrific stays-on-the-bed kind of guy. He never gets down, he never cries, he never throws fits.

Sometimes when he calls me in it's because he wants more water (the classic "fool the parent for more time" delusion). Sometimes he hungry (that cookie after dinner didn't quite do it), sometimes he wants to grab a toy "real quick" he'll tell me. And he is quick; he jumps down, goes straight for the toy he wants, and climbs back into bed.

Usually one of the times he calls me in it's for this reason (my favorite): he wants me to hold him... so I do. I pick him up, blanket and all, and stand and sway gently and cuddle him close. When he was younger he used to fit so snug and perfectly all huddled up in my arms on my chest. I loved that feeling!! I miss that feeling! Now when I hold him his feet practically drag on the floor (thank Heavens for carpet) and his head is triple the size of my shoulder so his noggin is constantly sliding down my arm (cramp!)... but it only lasts for a couple of minutes and then I gently lay him down and wish him sweet dreams.

We've done this together since he was a baby, just one last goodnight hug, but lately he hasn't been needing it as often. He's too busy growing up, and it makes my heart twinge a little when I realize in a couple more months he won't want me to hold him at all--ever. *sniff*

As parents we're so busy with bottle weaning, and potty training, and temper tantrums, that we forget that parents need to be weaned too. Jake wouldn't hear of me kissing him goodbye in front of his friends at pre-school this past year (It's pre-school! They're all barely out of diapers!). I would bend down for a hug and a cuddle and he would literally (gently) slap at my body and irritatingly say, "okay, okay, okay" and hurry off to meet his buddies. I'm glad he's become so independant but when did that mean leaving Mommy cold-turkey emptied handed in the school hallway! And Ben isn't any better. He used to love having me carry him--everywhere! Now he can climb into his carseat himself; he can walk in the parking lot and hold my hand; he can swim on his own without my help...

And now my precious nighttime cuddles are dwindling to few and far between. This is just one more chapter in his baby book that is coming to an end. *dabs eyes*

Vasectomies are reverseable, right???

Starving Kids

2008-07-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

My son asked me for Lucky Charms this morning for breakfast, and I agreed. Yes, I'm that Mom. I hadn't bought them for awhile, but at the grocery store this week I thought I'd grab a box so my kids would award me "Best Mom Ever".

After pouring him an ample amount of cereal with milk, I set about to get my own breakfast. A few minutes later I glanced over and saw him picking at just the marshmallows. Now before you all think "well, what did you expect" know this: I've bought my children Lucky Charms for the past couple of years, not every week, but fairly often. They usually finish their bowls of cereal, scraping the bottom for every last morsel, and have never before "picked" at it.

I scolded him for picking at it and told him to use his spoon. He scowled at me and whined that he only liked the marshmallows. I told him he was crazy and he needed to start taking some huge bites. A few minutes later my son brought his bowl over to me and announced that he was done. If it was possible, it seemed like there was even more cereal in it now!

"You didn't eat anything!" I surprisingly said. "I don't like it." More whining... so out of my big Mommy bag I pulled this line: "You know, there are starving children around the world who don't have any money for food, or cereal. And when they do get cereal it's not something sweet like this. No, no! They eat oats or bran or maybe oatmeal. You're very lucky to have had this for breakfast." He thought about it for a minute but then placed his bowl on the counter and walked away. I yelled at his back, "I'm never buying this again!" to which I then heard, "Okay!"

Little does he know, I'm not joking! If he wants to test my cereal-patience then go for it! The child will see nothing but oatmeal for the rest of his life!

Star Wars tee

2008-07-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

The other day I was at Target (yes I know, another blog about Target... I swear, my life only exists at Target or Costco) ...and I found this really great, vintage-style Star Wars tee in Ben's size. I snapped it up because it was on clearance for $4.88! I looked for a size that would fit Jake (he wears a 4/5 or a 5t if it's big). I thought, "there's no way I can come home with this for Ben and not have something for Jake..." God help me, I looked. I even looked for my nephews who are all similarly Star Wars obsessed, but I struck out. There was an abundance of 2t and 3t's. I ended up getting Jake some diving sticks for the pool and thought maybe if he got something, anything, he wouldn't care so much about the tee. One would think that this was a good plan...

One would be WRONG! I handed the tee to Ben and of course he by-passes Daddy and me immediately and beelines for Jake, waving his treasure in the air. Jake was crushed, and no matter how earnestly I tried to describe my searching adventure, it didn't matter. And I know kids are allowed to feel disappointed but this was really hard to watch. It made my heart hurt a little.

A couple of days later after the kids were asleep, I headed back to Target (I know, I know) and that's were I saw it: a new Lego Star Wars printed screen tee in the boys section. Luckily they had Jake's size, so I grabbed one up and headed for home. I went into his room and kissed his sweaty, sleeping face, and then laid the new shirt on the carpet at the end of his bed where he would be sure to find it in the morning.

The next morning Hubby graciously let me sleep in (he is good for something, apparently) and when I awoke I found Jake playing xbox and wearing his new shirt. "Wow! Look at that!" I exclaimed. He nodded. I asked what he thought of it and he said it was cool. I then asked about what happened when he first saw it and he told me this (almost verbatem):

"Well, I woke up and when I got off my bed it was still early and I wasn't supposed to be up but I saw this shirt and I was like, 'what!', so then I said to myself, 'I don't know where it came from but I'm putting this bad boy on!' and then I got dressed because I was so excited to wear it and then I got back into bed until Daddy came in."

(Yes, he speaks in one run-on sentence after another.) I'm just glad he's happy with it!

Gossip

2008-07-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm completely infatuated with celebrity gossip. The Prime Minister of England--couldn't even begin to guess on his name (Or is it a "her"? Is there a Prime Minister of England?)... but Brad and Angelina just had twins and I could tell you the baby names and the times they were born! Did you know Jennifer Garner is expecting again? And that Christian Bale was not "arrested" but "voluntarily" walked into the police station to "discuss" issues that happened with his Mom and sister... This is something I live for in my life. I kind of thrive on it.

I have no idea when the Presidential race is over, or when we actually vote (I do know it's this November sometime, right?), but I do know who won the popularity vote between McCain and Obama! I can tell you who Oprah is voting for, although half the world thinks she should run for office herself *rolls eyes*.

This is my life. I go online several times a day, check my email (which is minimal at best), check out a few fellow bloggers (hi Karen! hi Ang!) and then begins my obsession. I go to spoilerfix and just jared and spoiler tv and fox to catch up on the latest news about my favorite shows...

Some may judge and think it's trashy, or stupid, or sad... but to me, it's my sanity! I so thoroughly enjoy it! Any Office fans out there? Check out their games and cute blog clips and online previews. Oh I could go on and on. Wait, is the baby crying? I'll just pause here on Madonna's latest review and be back in a jiffy...

La-dee-da

2008-07-22T19:22:00.000-07:00

Some days I truely appreciate being a stay-at-home Mom. Like when Hubby comes home from working until eleven, and then wakes up at oh, the butt crack of dawn the next morning, and goes to his real estate job until the early afternoon. Then the front door opens and there's this breath of stale air and all of the sudden slacks and a button down shirt have been carelessly tossed on my duvet and the wadded, wrinkled jeans disappear from the floor. Then the front door closes and I assume it must have been Hubby. As he heads for the Air Force base working his swing shift, those are the days that I appreciate my Victoria's Secret flannel pajama pants and Mossimo tank.

I appreciate his hard work and dedication, I do, but I can't tell him that. Gosh, think of the power he'd have! Oh the horror. That last thing the world needs is my Hubby higher up on his high-horse! I just smile and exaggeratingly glance at the checkbook with a heavy sigh. There, that should keep him in line!

What Happened??

2008-07-22T12:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure when it occured, but sometime in the past month my sweet little five year old boy vanished, and in his place arrived a bossy, whiny, back-talking, lying, temper-tantrumy child. I don't know what happened! I looked behind his ears to see if his exterior was a mask to some unruly alien, but all I found was dirt. I was a little disappointed. I guess I was hoping that something as simple as alien reincarnation was my answer...

My son has taken on a whole new demeanor and I am at a loss as to what to do. I try to compliment him when I see him behaving appropriately: "Thank you for holding my hand in the street!" "I like how nicely you made your bed!" "Thank you for helping Ben go down the slide!" "I appreciate your efforts at wiping your own bottom!" etc...

He has began to back-talk me, which either I've never noticed before or it's something brand new. I end up yelling at him to just be quiet and stop talking. Even then he still tries to get the last word in. It's driving me nuts!

But back-talking isn't the only problem: he's resorted back to his toddler years and has started throwing temper tantrums--a lot! Over anything and everything. So I'll calmly look at him and say, "I don't understand you. Use your words." I have been saying this phrase so often lately (to both of my boys) that I accidentally used it on my Hubby the other night. I did something that annoyed him and he complained about it under his breath and before I could stop myself I opened my trap and out tumbled, "I don't understand whining, use your words!" This surprised both of us!

I'm having the hardest time with Jake's attitude about everything in general. I feel like I'm often nagging him because when I say something or ask him to do something just once, I get no results. So that annoys me, naturally, and I result to raising my voice, to which he retaliates with a whiny high-pitched complaint, and the battle ensues...

So to all you mom's out there with kids this age, or that have had kids this age, please help! I'll try anything you throw at me, even if it seems obvious. (And if you have any vegetable-eating advice for my kids, then it'd be great if you could just throw some of that in there too!)

Art Emotions

2008-07-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

Usually I can appreciate a fine piece of art. I understand the depth and concentration and value that goes into a piece of work. The more love, color and texture, the more desirable a piece can be.

Jake is the artist of the family, and I'm constantly finding his Monet's and Picasso's plastered with tape all around my home. Here's a space picture that Jake drew for his little brother, which has now brightened his brother's originally dull bedroom door:
And these lovely drawings are located on the wall of Jake's own room, too valuable and prized to be placed in any other room of the house. (Fine by me!)
And above his bed is an entire row dedicated to anything he wants to "glance up and see" while he's sleeping. I've tried telling him that if he's sleeping then he won't be "glancing" anywhere. But he countered with, "Then I'll see them first thing in the morning and they'll make me smile." Okay, I was sold:
Today I spent the better part of my afternoon coloring with my five year old. We do this fairly often, and I actually find it quite therapeutic, but some days I'm just not in the mood--that would be today. He hadn't picked a nice, small, 8x10 sized picture from a book for us to color. Oh no, today he picked the 16x20 equivelant from the Cars poster-sized book that I had bought last year. I reluctantly relented and we set forth.

This lovely picture of Mac is the picture we worked on today. He did most of it and was very, very proud of "all the red". I looked around his room and said, "Where is it going to go?" to which he replied, "In your room!"

Oh, dear. Without meaning to offend him and hurt his tender feelings, I absolutely, positively, did NOT want Mac in my room. My bedroom is the one room in the house that I don't allow any toys, books or kid-related items (dirty clothes only, and even then...) I suggested a beautiful white wall in my master bathroom that was "in desperate need of some color!" He had other plans. We argued over the wall space above my bed, by my dresser, and finally he suggested under the window. Feeling rather pained and totally embarrassed that I was irritated by this Mac picture being forced into my personal space, I let myself out of my shell and agreed.

So here it is, below my window, across from my Pottery Barn bedding (isn't it cute!!) and between my silk curtains... a bright red symbol of my darling child's affection:
Maybe I can tear it down in a couple of weeks without him noticing!

Legos

2008-07-20T15:40:00.001-07:00

Lately my son has been obsessed with Legos. Both of my boys really, but where Jake builds ships and jets and characters (mostly Star Wars related), Ben usually builds "towers". Block upon block, straight up and down. But I guess that's good motor skill coordination, right? Especially because these are the tiny legos, the ones that make any new Mom gasp in fright as they have been written on scrolls from long ago as a "choking hazard". My kids have never once put them in their mouths--yet. (Good grief, what have I started... I can almost hear Ben now thinking, "I wonder what this tastes like...")

Jake is so disciplined when he's building. His ships are really very well endowed. He puts a lot of thought and effort into their structure and graphics, and all of them, every single one, have multiple "shooters". Fearing his imagination had taken a turn for the worse I asked him today "What exactly are they shooting? Because you know I'm not a fan of guns." He thought for a moment and came up with "fire" as his response. Good enough for me. As long as he's not playing Deadly Assassin then I'm game. I would completely understand if he was building a policeman/police car, or even a military character, but I don't think Joe Shmoe needs more ammo then necessary...

Target

2008-07-20T15:32:00.000-07:00

I love this store, but I dread going there... why? Because I never end up getting what I went in for! And I always, always buy more than I intend. "Make a list" "Stick to a budget" Yadda Yadda... It's Target! Those rules don't apply there, I swear!

I went in for 1 gallon of juice, 1 gallon of milk and coffee for Hubby. I walked out of there with 1 gallon of milk, 1 gallon of juice, coffee... and a shirt for me, three shirts for Ben, a toy for Jake that was on clearance (if it's on clearance then it's automatically a guilt-free item), swim shorts for Jake (all of his current swim shorts are from last year and embarrasingly too small) and socks for Jake which he needs for the upcoming school year.

I ended up spending almost $60, but in my defense the coffee was $8 and the milk and juice together were another $8... Well looking at it like that, that only accounts for about $16 of it... Good grief!

To Grandma's House We Go (Part 2)

2008-07-14T08:02:00.000-07:00

This is the second part of the blog so read this after the first part (duh)...

The drive was certainly no less than an hour and a half, and about 45 minutes into it Hubby was really, really regretting eating those slices of bacon. "I need a restroom, and I need it NOW." I looked out my window and saw nothing but dead grass for miles and miles. Occasionally some cows would pop into view, but seriously it was only desert farmland that surrounded us.

Hubby was getting sweatier and sweatier, and he had the A/C blasted on extra high. The boys were huddled under their blankets in the backseat wondering why it was so cold. "Daddy has a little tummy ache" was all I could muster. Every couple of miles we'd come to a stop light and he'd say, "Look for a bathroom! Look for a bathroom!" Again, nothing but farmland and the occasional strawberry stand, or nectarine store.

I was about to suggest he go squat behind a tree when we finally reached our turn-off. His Grandma's house was about four streets away and then it happened: our car massively overheated! Smoke entered through the A/C vents and started coming out of the hood. We zoomed around the last couple of turns and screeched to a halt in the trailer "community". Hubby jumped out and opened the hood and I'll I could see was black smoke.

"Get the kids out! Quick!" Some family members came out to help, and then we all trooped inside toward safety. Apparently the coolant line popped free and cause a bunch of drama underneath the hood. It was fixable, which was good, because this was not an area I'd like to be stranded in!

We ended up having a nice time and the kids played very well with their limited resources. My mother-in-law had purchased a bunch of food from Costco and we all dug in promptly! After lunch Grandma wanted to play "Happy Birthday" on the piano, so we all sang while she played. Then she played it again, so we sang it yet again. Then my mother-in-law brought over a cheesecake with a candle for her to blow out and someone suggested singing again. Are you kidding me! Nope, there was indeed a third rendition.

After dessert no one could find Ben (my two-year-old) so the whole house went hunting. I found him hiding in a corner by the piano. "Are you okay?" I asked. His eyes got really big and he shook his head and said "No." Then he got sick all over Grandma's carpet. I hauled him up, passed him to Hubby, and he ran him to the kitchen sink. I asked Grandma if she had any spray or carpet cleaner and was met with a blank stare, so I looked at my Mother-in-law for help. She asked Grandma, "Do you have something to clean the carpet, Mom? Some kind of cleaner?" Grandma just looked at me. I added, "I don't want your carpet to smell like vomit, so maybe you have something for me to clean it up with?" I was nodding my head at her in an encouraging sort of way. Again I got no reply. Finally someone produced a bottle of Lysol Kitchen Cleaner with Bleach. It was better than nothing!

After cleaning up the mess I realized there was a slight argument going on, and Grandma was looking very stubborn, sitting arms crossed in her chair. "What's going on?" I ventured. After some careful explaining by my sister-in-law I figured out that Grandma was complaining that she had never seen the two youngest babies, my Ben and my nephew. We both tried to explain to her that yes, she'd seem them both a number of times. We counted off specific events where Grandma had been present and had seen, even held, both boys. It was useless. Grandma sat stern in her chair refusing to believe.

Thankfully Hubby called, "It's time to go!" and happily we all packed up. In the car I asked, "Are we okay to make it home?" Hubby replied, "Let's hope so!" Oh, great...

To Grandma's House We Go (Part 1)

2008-07-14T06:54:00.000-07:00

This is a long blog, so it will be divided into two blogs....

Yesterday we had plans to go to Hubby's Grandma's house to celebrate her 93rd birthday. I can't imagine living that old, some days I feel ready to keel over due to exhaustion from taking care of my children... but that's a different story.

I awoke with the kids around their usual 6:30 time and Hubby got up a little later. He informed me he wanted to leave at "ten to ten". I was like, "Isn't this a lunch thing? Why are we leaving so early?" Then he sighed, and explained that we needed to get gas and that he yahoo-mapped our destination and we needed to allow an hour and a half for drive time. Fine, whatever.

A little after nine Hubby asked if I was planning on getting ready. So off to the bedroom I trotted, and a half and hour later I was only half ready. "You're not ready yet!" He yelled. Resisting the temptation to pop him on the nose, I explained that I had been interrupted about thirteen times by the kids asking for things or complaining about each other. During this discussion, my cell phone chirped that I had a text message. Hubby rolled his eyes at that and informed me that he "still wanted to get on the road at ten to ten". I swore if he said that phrase to me again I was going to strangle him at ten to ten.

The message was from my sister-in-law, Hubby's brother's wife (she's also my best friend which is helpful at these dreadful family functions) and she was asking if we'd left already. I glanced at the clock (it was about 9:45) and responded that we'd be leaving soon. I picked up my pace and started to get a move on towards my ten to ten goal. Then my phone chirped again and she made a joke about how she's "finally not going to be the one who was late" (a rare occurance for her). I was quickly applying my mascara with one hand and texting back "what are you talking about" with the other hand. Then, in my efforts to multi-task, I got the wand too close to my eye and blinked really hard and had fresh mascara bands imprinted on my upper cheeks... so I had to start over from scratch.

Hubby was poking his head around the door every couple of minutes hurrying the "kids" along (which I'm sure was aimed at me). Then my phone chirped again, and my heart stopped a little when I read the message. Apparently, according to my brother-in-law, were supposed to be there at 11, not 11:30, and the clock on my dresser was now flashing "10:05". Oh great!! So I start running through the house trying to remember to pack pj's and swim shorts and snacks and diapers, while Hubby was doing I-don't-know-what with the kids outside. My adrenaline was pumping so hard my head hurt, and then he opened the door and sent in a screaming two-year-old. This caused me to come to a full stop to handle the situation, and when I couldn't calm him down I was stuck toting around a sniffling two-year-old-who-weighs-about-a-hundred-pounds on my hip while I finished packing.

I then remembered we were traveling to a house filled with breakable objects, old furniture and no toys... oh, and it's in a trailer "community" which is about the size of my bathroom. So I felt forced to pack an overwhelming amount of "quiet activities". The clock was now flashing "10:15". Hubby sat down on the couch to put on the kids sandals and he made a small comment about how he hates to be late. I felt bad, because he really does dread being late. My largest annoyance in life are fingernails on a chalkboard, his is lateness.

So I bravely faced the lion and explained that we were going to be more than just a "little" late. He stopped and stared at me for a beat and then calmly said, "You want to run that by me again?" I explained about the change of time and he literally threw his hands up in the air. (I might have seen smoke coming from his ears, but we won't go there...) I shooed the kids out to the car, grabbed my purse, diaper bag, bag of toys, portable dvd player, two juice boxes and a sippy cup and trooped out to the car to buckle them in.

The tantrum from the baby was still continuing in the car, apparently he was upset about life in general, so over the noise from him, the noise coming from Jake (he was singing) and the hum of the engine Hubby and I were screaming to each other things like "Did you grab the dvd player?" "Did you get bottled water?" "Did you pack Grandma's card?" "Did you go pee-pee?" (after a little confusion I realized that last comment was directed toward my five-year-old.)

Finally we pulled out of the driveway, but not before Hubby spilled coffee all over the dash. I suggested we skip getting gas (we had enough to get there) and head for the freeway. Hubby asked if I grabbed his stack of business cards (that was a big fat NO from me) and then he began to lecture me on how he was hungry and very disappointed that there were no snacks for him in the car, and why wasn't I more prepared. I said, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had to feed three children this morning." Then I said, "I thought you already ate?" Apparently only eating two pieces of bacon doesn't constitute a breakfast.

We reached the freeway and got about two exits from the house when Hubby threw his hands in the air and exclaimed,"Oh great! Look at my shoes!" Sure enough, he was wearing his ratty, beat-up, five year old, black and white Addidas flip-flops. These are referred to as the "poop shoes" in our house because we throw them on to go out back and pick up dog poop. I busted a gut laughing, and insisted that he turn around. We headed back to our house and I ran inside to grab him a change of shoes, snacks and a hefty amount of business cards. Back on the road we went...

Messy payday

2008-07-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

Today has been somewhat of a lazy day, and because of this laziness my living room quickly turned into this catastrophic whirlwind of debris. There were stickers everywhere, and I'm not using that phrase lightly: under the couch, on the couch, on the floor, on the table, under the table, behind the curtains... and so on. Along with all the stickers, there were markers scattered across the coffee table, crackers from an earlier snack littering an end table, juice cups tipped over on the coffee table and on the floor, pillows from the couch carelessly tossed on the carpet, and the list goes on...

I took one look at the room and my head began to spin. I glanced into the kitchen and saw the counter tops strewn with cups and plates and cans and bottles, all begging to be taken out to the recycle bin. The sink was overflowing with dishes, and the counter tops and stove tops were sticky from lunchtime. The worst part is I had to unload the dishwasher before I could even begin to begin. I hate unloading the dishwasher. It's the equivalent to fingernails on a chalkboard, or bad breaks on a car... unloading it drives me nuts!!

Trying to ignore the ringing in my ears, I called Jake over to me and said, "how would you like to earn some money?" His eyes lit up like Rudolph's nose on Christmas day. I sent him to work on the living room, and before I knew it he had rallied up Ben and together they were picking up sticker after sticker and putting them away. After that he moved into the kitchen with me and helped unload the dishwasher (thank the Lord) and then on to his bedroom to finish in there. Without complaining, and in record time, he had definately earned his dollar!

When I handed him the crisp bill he was very grateful, but just before he turned away he kind of hesitated.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Do you have any of the dollars with a 2 on them?" he asked.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean? Are you asking if I'll give you 2 dollars instead of 1?"
"No, do you have the dollars with the 2 and the 0? I think it's a number 20?"
"Um, no, sorry, fresh out!"

He trotted off to his room to brag to Ben and shove his earnings in his piggy bank. Thankfully he was happy with his 1 dollar, but sheesh! I'll have to remember this for the future, this guy drives a hard bargain!

2008-07-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

On a boring Saturday afternoon, my boys and I were in the middle of a sticker and marker extravaganza when this picture was developed. You have a football coach for the Browns on the left, equipped with a micro-phoned headset and clipboard, and a football player #20 on his right. To be funny, Jake gave them chicken legs! I love the big fingers...

Pool Pandemonium

2008-07-08T18:03:00.001-07:00

It's got to be like 125 degrees here in Vacaville... I'd be shocked if it was anything less. It's too hot to move, too hot to breathe, and too hot to swim. Which was a huge bummer in this household today...

The kids wanted to take a dip in the middle of the afternoon, so we all slipped into our suits, slathered on our sunscreen, and suited up in our goggles and floaties. We opened the back door and a wave of sweltering hot air blew in on our faces. Any sweat that was already beading on our foreheads was instantly dried.

I took the cover off the pool and tested the water; it was a cool 92 degrees. Jake decided to take his super-duper squirt gun into the pool with him, and promptly filled it up. "Just squirt the plants and grass, dear." I warned.

A few minutes had passed by and I was standing on the grass about five feet from the pool hosing off the dirty pool filter when all of the sudden I got squirted in the middle of my back with a warm, sharp, blast of water! "Hey!" I called out, then turned around to get blasted yet again, but this time in the middle of my forehead. "Cut it out!" I yelled momentarily blinded by the chlorinated water quickly settling inside my tear ducts, causing my mascara to goop and clump. I could hear giggling and snickering from the direction of the pool. "Stop, let me finish so I can join you in the pool!" I attempted.

I turned around and bent over to pick up the filter (which was flung on the ground during all the commotion) when I got blasted again, this time on my rear-end. "Eeek!" I ran to the garden hose, whipped it on, and turned toward the pool. That little devil swam under the water. No problem, I'd just wait until he resurfaced. Well, apparently he's gotten pretty good at swimming. He'd dive under for quite a few seconds, come up for a breath or two, then dive back down again. I was too proud to squirt him. Oh what a fool I was...

I tucked the hose into the side of the pool to allow some cold water to filter in with the warm. I dove in and laid on my back to relax. Just as I was about to say "Ahhh", I was hit with ice cold water right on my face! I jumped up and turned away from the child hosing me down. Blindly, I tried reaching for him or the hose, and I was hit in the face from the other direction with the warm pool water by my other child. One had me with the hose and one had me with the squirt gun. I was guzzling water by the gallons, my nose was running, and my mascara had glued my eyelids shut. My eyes stung like crazy from the water, and my face literally hurt from all the torment.

"Enough!!" I shouted. Both kids got yanked from the pool and stood like wet cats, dripping on the grass. I took a minute to control my emotions, and stomped over to the spout to shut off the hose. I turned to lecture them, but found my oldest with a very solemn expression on his face. "You're the one who added the hose to the pool..." he pointed out. This was true, and due to the blazing heat we were all dried before I could even reach for a towel. I decided to call a truce, and sent the little devils inside for a movie and a snack. "They better watch out at bathtime..." I cackled to myself...

Zits

2008-07-03T17:17:00.000-07:00

The great thing about being in my twenties is that I still look relatively young... the awful thing about being in my twenties is that I still get zits. Not so much full-blown acne, the zits are kind enough to appear just a few at a time. And they never show up on a weekend, or a slow week where we spend a lot of time at home. It never fails, they always show up on a big night out, or right before an event, or on the day my foundation runs out. And of course, it's usually when a crater appears on the tip of my nose that I run into an old boyfriend or ex work-colleague.

My sister was kind enough to invite me along to her photography shoot this past weekend, which was a beautiful (and big) wedding. During the middle of the wedding reception I could feel a zit surfacing on my chin. Great, just great... I finally get a chance to go somewhere in a dress with no kids, and it's all going to be ruined by a Jay Leno inspired zit. Little did I know it was the calm before the storm!

A few days later I start to feel another zit forming on my forehead. Wonderful, and with my side-swept bangs it won't even come close to covering it. The zit is the size of Mongolia and right in the middle of my forehead, down between my eyebrows, hovering like a third eye. It's not the kind you can pop, it's the rounded type that is sore to the touch. So last night I started my treatments on it, applied some specialized creams that cost me an arm and a leg, and went to bed. I awoke thinking I had discouraged the little bugger, only to find it had doubled in size overnight!

Knowing that "a zit should never be popped" I've desperately tried covering it up all day long. I've concealed and re-concealed it like thirteen times, I've applied and re-applied my foundation about fifteen times, but to no avail the zit remained unchanged. And this was the day where I had a million places to go and a hundred people to see. I saw my good friend at Jake's summer school this morning, and all I could think to ask her was if my shirt made me look pregnant. I got a big fat "no" on that one (I love her), but I couldn't bare to ask her about the island on my forehead.

Then my stay-at-home-mom's group met at the mall today and I felt like everyone was staring at my third eye than my other two brown ones. And later this afternoon I had babysat Jake's best buddy, and when his dad came to pick him up I tried doing a lot of staring down at my toes, but he ended up chatting with me for thirty minutes, and there was no hiding it. After he left I ran to the bathroom to see how awful it was, and found not only was it still growing, but it had darkened in color.

Good grief. I've still been trying to dispose of it, but I'm having no luck. If anyone has any great pimple popping advice, I'd love to hear about it. Otherwise I'll be in hibernation for the next week or two...

Target Drama

2008-07-02T11:06:00.000-07:00

This morning I had a couple of errands to run, first to the pet store for dog food and then to Target for new pool filters. I love Target because they have everthing from underwear to chips and salsa to bug spray all in one store. I hate Target because everything I seem to need is located in or near the toy section. Light bulbs: across from the swim toys. Baby wipes: across from the toddler toys. Pool filters: next to the aisle with the Star Wars figurines. You can imagine the drama that ensued...

After I said for about the sixth time, "I'm ONLY buying pool filters today", and after the boys had looked at every toy possible on the Legos aisle, the cars and trucks aisle, and the figurine aisles... I said, "We're done. Let's go!" and I made a beeline for the front registers. This of course encouraged more whining from my five-year-old, Jake, and was soon accompanied by his begging and pleading for a "cheap Lego toy". After another firm "no" on my part (I was so proud of myself for not giving in), and after I pried a barbie doll from my two-year-old's hands, we headed toward the check-out. I could see the sunlight beckoning me from the front windows and automatic doors, saying "come toward the light", so I was encouraged that my journey was almost over...

And then we passed by the toothbrush aisle and Jake almost bull-dozed a lady in a walker trying to swing my cart in that direction. After a short lecture on paying attention to our surroundings (which went in one ear and out the other) my son began the begging and pleading act once more, this time over an automatic Power Rangers toothbrush. I could see this would soon turn into a whining, near tears fit if I didn't handle the situation properly, so I bargained with him: after our dentist appointment today, if he had no cavities, we would come back and get the darn toothbrush. This seemed to appease him... for about a minute and a half...

We headed toward the registers and all of the sudden Jake starts throwing himself around in a sort of toddler way, whining and moaning, and practically insisting that we return to the toothbrush aisle. Jake was pulling the cart away from me, while I'm trying to remain calm and collected, not daring to give up my space in line. And Ben's watching with utter fascination. You could just see the wheels turning in Ben's little head while he watched his big brother... "Oh, this is how I'm supposed to act to get what I want..." WRONG!

So I calmly but firmly told Jake he needed to stop or he would go on a time-out to his room when we got home. He continued his horrific behavior so I told him, "That's it. You now have a time-out." Of course this produced bigger, louder, tears and screams and when it was finally my turn to pay the woman looks at me with a plastered smile on her face and said, "And how are you doing today?" I just kind of stared at her, "Oh, just peachy..." I managed to sarcastically spit out.

When we got home, Jake went to his room for his time-out (kudos again to me for following through with my punishment--an area I tend to lag on a little) and then we had a nice long talk about proper five-year-old behavior in a store. In a half hour I get the joy of taking both of my children to the dentist by myself... there might be another blog about that later...

What a day

2008-07-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

My kids were very disappointed in the pool today (or, rather, I was disappointed that they couldn't be occupied in our pool today). It was really murky and dirty due to the slathers of sunscreen that we pile on our kids every day, and I kind of felt like the Health Inspecters would come knocking on my door if I let my kids play in it.

The problem was the dirty, disgustingly gross, filter. I was out of clean ones, so I decided to pull out the current filter and just hose it off. After breaking a nail trying to untwist the top, I was finally able to lift the lid off, but because I was bent down so low I got splattered with dirty filter water right on my face. Then my legs were itching like crazy, but in my attempt to hose off the cartridge (thinking the itchiness was compliments of the grass), I finally realized it wasn't grass irritation, but ants. And lots of them! All over my legs and arms and swimsuit!

I finally got the darn thing cleaned of most of the grunge it had acquired, put it back in the container and tightened it down. My two boys and I bent our heads over the side of the pool to examine the results: still murky. Not Health Inspection dirty, but "foggy" at best. I said to heck with it, and sent the kiddos indoors to watch a movie and enjoy a sticky treat.

Then later that day, at two different times, I managed to burn my finger (the one with the broken nail) in two different places. I splattered spaghetti sauce on my favorite white tank and then proceeded to splatter it all over the kitchen in a million different spots all the size of the head of a pin. My son dumped a big cup-full of bathtub water onto the bathroom rug, which splattered onto the Pergo floor, my son had two bloody noses today, and there's dog hair all over my dining room. This has turned into quite a day!

Shopping

2008-06-27T17:15:00.000-07:00

I love to shop. It's very enjoyable to me, theraputic if you will... but not when I'm listening to this:
"Are we done yet?"
"Can I get that?"
"I want one!"
"I want a snack!"
"Can we go now?"
"I have to pee!"

I had like a million errands to run today and my lovely children got dragged around with me. Before I left on my adventure I was explaining my errands over the phone to my sister-in-law, and one errand in particular caught her attention: I explained that I needed to buy a new bra, and how much I was looking forward to it with my two children in tow! She then asked what I planned on doing with Jake (my 5 year old) while I was stripping down to my all-together and trying bras on.

I had to think about this for a minute... I no longer change in front of him at home, but the thought about not being able to easily change in a dressing room while the kids played at my feet never occured to me before. It was a valid point: when does it become inappropriate for my son to see me naked? When does it cross the line? I reached the conclusion that when he became old enough to start asking questions and pointing and staring (around the age of 4), that that was the end of it.

So my solution to the problem? "Close your eyes and cover them with your hands, please!" It worked like a charm. He thought it was a fun game, and I hurriedly rushed through bra after bra trying to make a snap decision, constantly in fear that he would unexpectedly open his eyes and gain a "peep show". I quickly snapped it in front, whirled it around, adjusted the girls, bent and shook, stood and removed. Over and over, through about 6 bras.

I ended up buying one... I think it fit... I think it's the right size... thanks to Mervyn's sales it was only $15, but more importantly the only skin I think Jake saw was the palms of his hands.

Skinny

2008-06-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

I was in the Gap outlet today and was looking for some stylish capri pants for my sister, because she needed something to wear to an upcoming photo session... I found some really great capri pants, tried them on myself in a size 6, and found they fit very well. Not baggy, but no stomach bubbling over the top either. We had a winner!

The difference between her and me is that my thighs and butt are much more "cellulite-y" than hers. So when I tried these capri's on, they fit very well, but they're the type of pant that you really need to wear a thong with and I wasn't comfortable showing the world that many dimples... so I passed on them for me.

But I called her up and told her about them and she was thrilled. "Should I get a 4 or a 2?" she was asking me. I explained my cottage cheese issues and convinced her that she didn't have that particular problem, all the while other shoppers were staring at me while I was talking. Yeah, right, like the woman grabbing an XXL doesn't have cottage cheese problems... puh-lease.

Back and forth we went over the great debate between a size 4 and a 2. I mentally sighed and told myself,"If she asks about a size zero I'm hanging up on her." I had to admit when I was holding the 4 and 2 pants, I felt a little guilty like I had no business touching them. I was lucky enough to squeeze my large "backseat" into a size 6, which we all know would be an 8 at any other store. I felt like the woman with the XXL was watching me, judging my thighs versus the size on the hanger. I was finally able to make it out the store with the zero's left on the rack... along with some of my dignity.

Dooney

2008-06-18T19:47:00.000-07:00

Before I tell my Dooney story, here's a little background for those of you who don't know my son very well:

When Ben was about one years old he started vomiting A LOT, especially during a mealtime or right after it. Not to be gross, but we're not talking about a little spit up, we're talking the whole nine yards. Sometimes I was blessed to clean it up in the car, or in his bed, on my couch, or all over my carpet. He almost never got sick on the kitchen tile floor or in our laminate floored hallway... no, never in a place that could be mopped up easily. And it happened once a day, sometimes twice a day, for four or five days a week. Obviously I took him to the doctor and we discovered he has: 1) acid reflux, and 2) an underdeveloped esophagus muscle that doesn't always contract correctly to bring the food into the stomach. I was told this would go away with time, once his stomach and esophagus muscles were strengthened and had grown bigger.

After several more trips to the doctor, and several months of vomit later, we figured out if we fed him small portions, allowing him to get up and leave the table when he wanted (while also feeding him standing up to allow for a clearer passage) that it helped to control the vomit situation. So this is what we did for several months. Right around January of this year (when he turned 2) he stopped vomiting, and we've been vomit free for about 5 1/2 months! Yay!

...Until the past couple of weeks...

Only the difference now is he can communicate a little better since he's older and he motions to his mouth when he is about to get sick. So now on to the funny part of this disgusting story (I'm really sorry if you were eating during all this and now can't digest your snack)...

We were in Carls Jr. today sitting in a booth, and next to me was Ben, across from me was my Mom and next to her was Jake. Well, in the middle of our lunch Ben stops and puts down his nugget... and so I stopped eating to watch him carefully. Sure enough he looked at me with his huge eyes and pale cheeks and pointed to his mouth and said, "Sick!" Now any normal Mother would probably say something soothing to him, stroke his back, tell him to take deep breaths... not me. I knew what was coming! I yanked my $300 Dooney and Bourke bag away from its spot on the bench between myself and Ben, dumped it on the floor and scooted it under the table toward my Mom. Then I eyed Ben suspiciously, and while I hurriedly lifted him out of the bench I paused at the edge of the table thinking he was about to show us his lunch right then and there, I glanced down at my bag and back at Ben... bag, Ben, bag, Ben... and realized if he got sick on the floor it could splatter onto, or worse, into my bag. Thinking only of myself, I kicked my bag further beneath the table and ran with Ben to the bathroom. Luckily we made it just in time.

We came back, resumed our eating and I gingerly picked up my Dooney and brushed off the lint particles it had accumulated. I looked at my Mom and said, "How do you like that? My son is about to get sick and all I could think about was 'please don't get sick on my $300 Dooney'. How ridiculous am I?!" She started laughing at me and then I started laughing at me, and while the boys finished their lunch I gingerly tucked my Dooney up against my side, back in its rightful place.

Results

2008-06-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

This morning I went to Curves and got weighed and measured. *rolls eyes* There was hardly any change AT ALL with my body. Like it isn't embarrasing enough to get weighed and measured the first time, but to come back six weeks later, after working out 4-5 days a week, and I gained two pounds!! The only success I had was losing one inch in my hips (yay!) and a half-inch in my thighs (I think she was just being kind).

The first thing they did was weigh me, and the trainer kept saying, "hunh" under her breath, like she couldn't believe I was gaining instead of losing. She actually started over at one point and re-weighed me. I told her, "It was right the first time, I'm just fat I guess. Let's move on..."

Then that girl needed to take a phone call so another woman stepped in to do all my measurements. I swear every time she measured something she would check her chart and say, "hmm", because nothing had changed! Arms: exact same, "hmm". Waist: exact same, "hmm". The hip measurement and results were exciting, but then she kind of killed it by saying, "There you go! There's a little progress. These past six weeks didn't go entirely to waste!" *rolls eyes* Basically I could have saved my $40 for the month and layed off the soda for a couple of weeks and probably gotten the same results. And my half-inch off my thighs... well let's just say that was the absolute last thing she measured and I'm pretty sure it was a pity half-inch. After this I'm definately going to have to step up the diet and exercise at home, too! *groan*

Tie Continued...

2008-06-16T17:03:00.000-07:00

Read the "Tie" post first and this one will make more sense after...

Before everyone gets all judgemental on my Hubby for him not being the world champion of ties, you have to understand where he comes from:

When I first met Hubby, and while we were dating and engaged, he was a driver for a liquor distribution company (Charming career, huh? Sorry ladies, he's taken!) and his daily attire consisted of jeans and a tee-shirt. And then he acquired a job with the Department of Defense at our local Air Force Base (where he's also serves our Country as a Reservist) and again, his dress code was extremely casual. He actually has two types of jeans in his closet: work jeans (faded, stained, holey) and going-out jeans (darker in color, more expensive).

We rarely have an occasion to dress up, even our Church is pretty casual, so for Hubby tying a tie hasn't always been an obligation or a priority. I can even remember a wedding we went to years back where we were having a tie-tying dilema and so I told him, "Just wear your button down shirt open at the collar. It's all the rage!" He looked great, and to my satisfaction there were a few other men at that wedding with the same open collar outfit. Kudos to me!

So when you read the "Tie" post have a little compassion and understanding.

Tie

2008-06-16T16:14:00.000-07:00

This morning my Hubby had an important meeting to go to at 9:30. This was the kind of meeting that required a leather binder-folder, a resume, a list of questions, a fresh hair cut, and a suit and tie.

Yesterday he laid out his suit and tried on the pants to make sure everything still fit *rolls eyes*, and in doing so decided that he needed a new "power" tie. So off to Ross I went, which is the best place to go for stuff like this. I got him a Calvin Klein tie for $12.99 which was "compared to $40.00" originally.

Then later in the evening I "cut his hair" (all three pieces) and he trimmed up his goatee and sideburns all nice and clean. Also last night I threw out the suggestion of "typing up a resume", which he thought was a good idea but that it could wait until the morning to be done. Fine by me because my all-time favorite movie was on cable, While You Were Sleeping, and I happily hunkered into bed to watch it.

So here we are this morning and Hubby's running around frantic ironing his shirt, trying grab a bite to eat, yelling different suggestive phrases at me for his resume which was still un-typed, trimming nose hairs or whatever it is guys actually do in the bathroom... meanwhile the kids and I are huddled in the corner of the living room trying to stay out of the way. Then the house falls silent for a few moments so I peek around the corner and find hubby mesmorized by the glow of our computer screen. Curious, I sneak up behind him and realize he's located a website with instructions on how to tie a tie. So after a few failed attempts, he starts to get a little frustrated and I gingerly step in and tell him to go do something else to get ready, and I'll take care of the tie.

After about twenty minutes and fifteen different tries and tying this stupid thing I realize Hubby is watching me. "Just lay it on the back of the chair and I'll do it later. I don't want it to get wrinkled." ...he tells me. So I moved on to typing the finishing touches on his resume and printing out some various papers he needs done.

A little bit later I find him again in front of the computer trying to tie the tie, this time fully clothed with his button down shirt and slacks in place. It took the two of us another fifteen minutes, with three trips to the bathroom to try tying it in front of a mirror, to get it completely tied. The problem: Hubby is rather tall and the tie came to just above his belly button (about 6" north then it should have been). So off it came and back to the drawing board we went. I looked at him at one point and said, "We're two very capable, grown adults, and this is a piece of skinny fabric. How is this not working??" To which he replied, "You better not blog this. I'm serious, I don't want to see this online." Which caught me off guard and made me laugh hysterically and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah right! This is a blogger's dream!" But I settle for telling him, "You realize there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my mouth shut about this..."

Needless to say, he was out the door, tie fixed appropriately and all, at 9:15. I shut the computer off and tried to start my morning. Then Hubby calls me at 9:25 to say, "I'm at the wrong place. Look it up online for the right address!" So I have to wait for the computer to re-boot so I can find the correct address. He turned out to have a great meeting, but good grief! If he starts wearing a tie on a day-to-day basis I think I might develop an ulcer.

Weigh In

2008-06-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

This Tuesday at Curves will be my weigh-in and measurement day. I'm as about excited for this as I would be to get a root canal done. My scale at home says I've gained weight, my pants and shorts still fit as tight as ever, and aside from being a little more tan on my arms and chest, my upper body hasn't changed much either.

I've been working out at Curves every week, about 4 or 5 days a week. I think that's pretty good (considering I hate working out) but if I don't see any results on Tuesday then I'm afraid I'm going to have to up the anty. I might consider doing some work-out videos at home several days a week too; then I can "Walk Away The Pounds" with Leslie Sansone and "walk" about 2 miles everyday in addition to my Curves exercising. *sigh* I'm very excited for this.

I guess it would help if I continued to watch what I ate. I was exhausted yesterday from having a hard, tiring, week and so we ordered take-out from Round Table. OH MY GOODNESS, I could have eaten the entire large pizza... it tasted that good to me. If it wasn't for Jacob asking, "Are we going to save some for Daddy?" as I was hovered over my "cardboard" plate, I would've gone way past my limit on slices. Instead I gave him a sideways glance, sighed, and packaged up the remaining few pieces.

Movies

2008-06-13T19:19:00.000-07:00

My kids love movies. Any movie at all, they're up for it. Think of them as miniature Epert and Ropert experts. A couple of days ago the magical movie in our house was Montsers, Inc. They watched it about three times... in one day. I had it memorized by dinnertime (Billy Crystal is only funny the first time through). Yesterday was Toy Story, which was also watched multiple times... followed today by The Wild.

On their list of "important things to do this summer" going to see Kung Fu Panda is at the top, followed closely by Wall-e, and the new animated Star Wars epic that is supposed to air later this summer. I must admit they do sit well through a movie, hardly talking or budging from their "spot" on the couch. Will they sit through getting their hair washed? No. Will they sit still through dinner? No way. Through a Church service? *snort* I wish. On the potty? Forget about it. But when Darth, or Buzz, or Cinderella (yes her, she's a favorite remember...) is before them, all eyes are focused and concentrating. If only I could direct that attention toward tidying up their rooms, or unloading the dishwasher...

Olive Garden

2008-06-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

Every now and then as a treat, Hubby and I order take-out from Olive Garden. My two-year-old has been sick all weekend so tonight was one of those nights when we needed something yummy. However, I ordered dinner, not drama...

I ordered one child's cheese pizza, one seafood alfredo pasta, and one five-cheese baked ziti pasta (we all know that diets are for Monday through Friday only). When I got there the woman gave me my total: $54.30. I said, "Yeah... um, no." And then, "Really? Fifty-four dollars?" To which she responded with an eye-roll and a sigh and repeated my order back to me: "Two seafood pastas, one five-cheese baked ziti, and one child's pizza." I said something about how I only ordered one seafood pasta, and she insisted that I distinctly said "two" and that she had repeated it back to me when we were on the phone and I agreed to it. *silence*

Then, "Okay, well I didn't hear that and we only need one seafood pasta please." This was met with another eye-roll and an exasperated request for me to wait while she gets the Manager to remove the extra pasta dish from my order. Then a couple of other women that worked there whispered amongst themselves (which was so obvious that it was about me) and finally the Manager returned. She rung me up and I paid, and then had to wait for my food to be ready.

While I was waiting, an older gentleman was also picking up his food and the snotty check-out woman accidentally called him "Jennifer" (lucky me) so they had a little joke going on. And then the man turns to me and starts this conversation: "That'd be nice if I was a woman. I've been told when we die we all come back as the opposite sex, and then I could come back as a Jennifer. But you know I think I'd rather come back as a whale. Did you know that they keep the same mate for life?! There's no divorce or any of that nonsense. And the eagles, I could come back as an eagle..." He pauses and waits for me to respond. Meanwhile I'm having the hardest time trying not to stare at his wandering eye (seriously, couldn't tell which eye he was using to look at me), and trying not to gag from his B.O., which was hard considering he was about six inches from me. Seriously, during the eagle part his arm hairs touched my sleeve so I pretended to be interested in a nearby flyer so I could move over.

Since I felt forced to encourage this behavior, I said, "Oh? An eagle?" Which of course only led him on. "Why, eagles fly from country to country. If I came back as an eagle then think of how much of the world I'd be able to see!"

Just then my food came out (thank goodness)... but it was minus one salad. When I--very nicely--pointed out the error, she hastily lifted up the receipt and said that when I "changed my order" (LIAR) it cancelled one of the salads. So then I puffed up my feathers and said, "Regardless, there's still two adults entrees in here and only one salad. So I think I'm supposed to have another salad." And believe it or not, the smelly, twisted-eyed, old man has moved up to stand next to me and is still lecturing me on the lifestyles of the eagle.

I swear I almost screamed, "I just want my food!!! Is this my punishment for going off my diet? Just hand over the breadsticks and no one will get hurt!" I didn't, of course. After thinking such rude thoughts about this elderly ol' fart, I felt a little bad so as I was leaving I turned to him and said, "Have a nice evening." He nodded at me and wished me the same. Too late!

Dogs

2008-06-08T18:08:00.001-07:00

We have two yellow labs, both are big, slobbery, hairy, loving creatures that do anything and everything to get our attention. Last Saturday was no exception. Our big, furry companions do not get to ride in the car that often (oh, it's such a big deal for them when they do... ladies, think along the lines of diamond jewelry treats)... so when Hubby opened the car up to vacuum it out, guessed who hopped aboard. That's right, both of them, in the back of my Explorer.

They never went anywhere, except back to the yard when Hubby needed to vacuum out the trunk. They sat like this for about twenty minutes and then reluctantly got down after much persuading and several mentions of a "treat". That's Chloe on the left, looking guilty, and Charlie on the right acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe you have to be a dog owner or lover to appreciate the humor in this, but the picture is cute enough to share regardless...

Books

2008-06-07T07:56:00.000-07:00

Since we do go to the Library so often (about twice a month) we end up finding some really great stories that I can't keep quiet about any longer! We found this fantastic, adorable book called The Rooster Who Lost His Crow by Wendy Cheyette Lewison, pictures by Thor Wickstrom. It's this sweet tale of a farm rooster who gets scared by a bee and "loses" his ability to crow. He looks for his crow all over the farm (behind a haystack, in the grass, in the pond) and then finds it in a moment of braveness as he scares away a fox in the hen house.

Another series of books my kids are absolutely entralled with are the Can You See What I See series by Walter Wick. Wick is the co-creater of the I Spy books, and these follow the same I Spy guidelines, with a little "added boost"... these have an adorable little red and yellow guy named Seymore that appears throughout the book, kind of telling a story. My children are completely taken with him, and totally consumed to the point that every time we go to the library those are the first books we head toward to see if there was possibly another "Seymore book" (as they call them) that we haven't checked out.

I highly recommend both of these. I think once a week or so I'm going to add a spot to my blog called "Books" that will be my personal recommendations. Look for it on the left side!

Culture Awareness

2008-06-07T07:16:00.000-07:00

I try to be a well-rounded Mom. I try to have a little diversity in my house. We do art projects, we dance to music, we donate money to an Animal Shelter and to a Children's Foundation...

I try to recycle, and once I tried to explain this act to my oldest child. I showed him the difference between throwing cans and milk jugs into a big blue recycle bin versus the big grey one for trash, explaining that the jugs and cans and other bottles and cardboards we use everyday can be manufactured together to make a different box or bottle, etc., in the future. Then the next day I found some rocks and some dirt and a couple of (old) toys in the blue recycle bin. "What exactly is going on here?" I asked him. His reply was: "I want to see what else they can make!" The lesson on recycling was a lost cause.

In my urge to be the well-rounded individual I hope to be, I drag my kids to the local Farmers Market just about every Saturday. I go with the attitude that my kids will see first hand the "art" of fresh vegetables and fruits. I show them the different types of squash, and cherries, and herbs, and tomatoes... and then they see the sign for "fresh baked donuts". And suddenly the Farmers Market came alive! This was the best place ever! That's my kids; they'd happily go to a vaccination clinic if they knew donuts would be there. Nevermind the other fresh fruits and such in my stroller, the fact that someone was "cool" enough to sell "fresh baked donuts" was over-the-moon exciting. I think the Farmers Market was a lost cause, too.

My last hope for my children to find some culture is in the Library. I used to love going to the Library, and the joy of it has continued into my adulthood. I borrow the latest books that have been released-- free of charge-- or borrow the newest movies that hit the DVD shelves. I'm happy to say my children also share my enthusiasm for the Library! They love to go and look at the rows and rows of children's books, all their pages begging to be touched and turned. We don't usually leave the children's section without reading a few books first to "try them out" as my oldest would say.

The Library is probably the only place in the world that my kids have learned to be quiet. They use their softest whispering voices, they don't run or act wildly, they stay obediently by my side clutching in their arms the new treasures they've discovered. They help me scan them out at the desk, and as soon as we reach the car their noses are devored into page after page of animated bliss. I love to read and have tried to instill the value of books within my kids. I think it's safe to say they love it too!

Snips, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails...

2008-06-03T19:37:00.000-07:00

My boys are very "boy-ish" boys. They like cars and trucks, they like machines that smash things and dump things. They ride bikes around in a circle on our patio pretending it's a race track. My boys get their shovels out and push up their sleeves and dig through flower pots for worms and slugs. Pirates are exciting; any superhero, especially one who wears a cape, is beyond cool; Star Wars competes with no other... all these things that make a boy a "boy" totally define my children.

However, every now and then I'll be caught totally off guard by my children doing something sweet and tender, revealing a more gentle undercarriage to their rough exteriors. For example, my two year old, Ben, has a naked baby doll and has named it "Keira" after his beautiful baby cousin. And just the other day as I was walking down the hallway I saw him sort of "sneak" out of his room. He caught me watching him and put his finger to his lips and "shushed" me. Then he pointed his chubby finger into his room. Curious, I tiptoed over and stuck my head around the doorway. He had layed his baby doll in his bed and covered it with his treasured blanket. He then whispered to me "baby naptime" and slowly, softly, closed his door. He tiptoed down the hallway and went off to play. It was such a gracious, beautiful gesture of love toward that little plastic doll and it shocked me so hard it almost brought tears to my eyes.

Then today my oldest son, Jake, after he played for an hour in the backyard and was dripping with sweat and testosterone from his "Speed Racer Derby" extravaganza, he asked to watch a movie. I opened the cabinet and began reading off titles: "Cars, Madagascar, Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek 3, Mickey Mouse, Finding Nemo, Snow White..." He stopped me there, exclaiming, "Snow White! Snow White! That's the best movie! It's so good Mom!" Thinking he was finished but before I could open my mouth to reply he continued, "It's almost as good as Cinderella, huh Mom!"

These are the moments that stop me in my tracks, pull a smile from my lips, and make me chuckle softly to myself. Then one boy will "pass gas" or something else utterly grotesque, which will make the other one laugh hysterically and imitate said motion, and the fuzzy moment disappears... for now.

Whining

2008-06-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

I can read the headlines now: "Mother of two becomes deaf from persistent whining".

Oh my goodness, this has been heck of a day! It started yesterday when my son had a big birthday party and received many attractive presents. My two year old, Ben, the one who doesn't like to share, seemed to think the gifts were all his and all last night he was continually whining over his "right" to have a turn. So we hurried the kids through their bath, shoved pajamas over their heads, and tossed them into bed head first... they were both out within five minutes.

But this morning Ben awoke with the terrible case of the "whines". Starting as early as seven o'clock he carried his voice in the most high pitched, fingernails on a chalkboard, tone of voice, arguing his "right" to have a turn with anything and everything my five year old picked up. Even when I put on a movie for Ben to watch he whined that "Daytub (Jacob) looking at movie". And when I explained that Jacob was allowed to watch the movie too, the octave level went even higher.

So I pushed the boys outside, encouraging them with new adventures in chalk drawing (as Jacob received some fun new chalk toys yesterday). One chalk set came with 3-D eye glasses to make the chalk drawings seem more "alive", but of course there was only one pair of glasses and... well you can imagine the drama that ensued. So back inside they went...

At about 10:45 I was developing a headache and had negotiated "Three more minutes and we need to pass it to brother" about seventy five times with about eighty different toys, when Ben whined for a snack. I suggested watermelon, grapes, string cheese and then applesauce and I heard "NO!" four times. So I opened the cupboard and suggested goldfish, which turned into a crying "NO!" Then I had the audacity to mention peanut butter crackers (how nice am I to offer so many things?!) and received a screaming fit over my dreadful suggestions. My head was beginning to throb so when he pointed to the tortilla chips and asked for cheese to dip I said yes. I told myself I would add some fruit to his plate and call it an early lunch.

A little bit later Jacob wanted a corn dog, and of course that lead to Ben throwing a full on temper tantrum that he was stuck with cheese and chips and wasn't offered a corn dog to begin with... So he went down for a nap an entire hour earlier than normal!

By late afternoon the whining had reached levels that even an opera singer would be impressed with. Ben didn't want to share his ball outside, nor did he want to share his boat in the bathtub. He didn't want to read the same book as Jacob at bedtime, and he wasn't happy that I sent him to bed with just water and not something sweeter to cleanse his palate. I skipped washing their hair in the tub or brushing their teeth before bed (I wasn't about to touch on those issues) focusing on getting them between the sheets so this dreadful day would be over!

I think I'll hide those darn "chalk glasses" so there isn't an issue tomorrow, and I'll shove the bathtime boat in the back of the cupboard. I've also decided to order some military issued earplugs online and have them shipped Overnight Express Mail to me so I can receive them first thing in the morning.

Birthday Cupcakes

2008-06-02T14:27:00.000-07:00

My son is turning five years old this week (wow!) and yesterday we had this big, elaborate birthday spectacular for him. It was a lot of fun, and it cost me an arm and a leg and another leg, but it was worth it. The kids had a great time, and since it was held at another location, it saved me from having to scrub my house! Let's face it, when you're a Mom of two boys you do what it takes to get out of unnecessary housework!

I made cupcakes (with help from Duncan Hines) in both chocolate and vanilla flavors, and to go along with his sports themed decorations, I decided to make the chocolate cupcakes footballs and the vanilla cupcakes baseballs. Jake told me, "I really like how the baseballs look Mom, but those (pointing to chocolate cupcakes) don't really look like footballs." I had just spent the better part of an hour frosting these darn things, cutting my thumb in the process, so I smiled sweetly at him and just "suggested" that he use his imagination.

The party is now over and I'm left with the crying of my tired and overwhelmed children, the paper pieces of ripped boxes and packages scattered throughout my house (on my bed under my pillow, in my shower, in Ben's diaper drawer... seriously, what went on here??)... and of course left over cupcakes taunting me from the fridge. I swear, just a few minutes ago when I walked by the fridge, the door flew open hitting me in the chest, the lid to the cupcake tupperware container popped up, and a "football" flew into my mouth! I would have protested but I was too busy scarfing down cake and frosting. All that remains is my paper wrapper carelessly tossed on the floor in my haste for cake.

Clothespin Bubbles

2008-05-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

Not to sound too 1950's, but... if you have an extra clothespin laying around I would suggest attaching it to your bubble wand! I tried this recently after my fingers were cut and bloody trying to dig out the impossibly skinny and small wand from a particular bubble container. Why oh why do the manufacturers make is so darn impossible for the wands to be retrieved from their jars? I actually passed the jar to my almost-five-year-old saying, "Can you get the wand out?" And when he could not he passed the jar to my two-year-old who tried one time and then turned it upside down, spilling half its contents on the patio, but alas, dumping the ridiculous wand out in the process.

Anyway, this handy household item made bubble blowing a snap! Not only did it help to remove the wand from the jar, but it also kept my hands bubble-solution free after I dipped, and re-dipped two dozen times! Now to find something to easily remove the protective seal off the top...

2008-05-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

In our tiny, shoebox sized home, our kitchen is at the front of our house, with the kitchen window overlooking our front yard and porch. And every morning while I'm making waffles and cereal and juice and fruit for my children, I look out this kitchen window and I'm greated by two lovely birds. Every... single... day! Apparently this is their home, too!

This big guy is "Papa Bear", and he's about the size of my fist. He almost always sits on the left side of the two birds.
This lovely beauty is "Big Mama", because she always seems to have her chest protruding. She is almost always on the right side of "Papa Bear". It's kind of like me and Hubby; he always sleeps on the left side of the bed, I always sleep on the right. Funny how these idiotic rituals transfer over into the feathered world as well!
And every night these creatures find solice on top of my kitchen window ledge, "Papa Bear" on the left, and "Big Mama" on the right. What's hard to tell about this photo is that I'm only standing about two feet away... no exaggeration. I opened my front door (which creeks and squeaks horribly), and then I opened my screen/security door (which always bangs into the porch light on the wall behind it) and neither of these birds moved! "Big Mama" just kind of glanced in my direction!
How crazy is this? Hubby and I were just baffled and at the same time totally captivated that I could stand two feet away, or less, from these creatures, with the camera making noise, and the camera flash blinding them, and neither bird moved!

Hubby seemed to think it was my deceased Grandpa and his deceased Grandma coming back to haunt us. I choose to believe it's just God's way of bringing humans and nature together. Hubby thinks his way would be very cool. *rolls eyes*

2008-05-23T16:03:00.000-07:00

I've decided that my life isn't challenging enough for me and I'm going to return to school to finish my A.A. When I was in high school I was a mediocore student... I passed by with several "B" grades, an occasional "A" (thanks to Art and P.E.) and of course some "C" grades slipped in here and there.

I was nothing like my sister who was brainy, dedicated and who actually liked school. I mean, who enjoys school? Sure, I thrived for recess, and breaks, and my friends; and I played sports after school... but my sister enjoyed the work, the academics of it. *Snort* She must have been a hoot to hang around with! She went on to earn degree after degree in college, and has a great background to fall back on if she ever decided to enter the professional environment again. I'm extremely proud of her success, and always felt like she was a great example to live up to, but I never quite followed in her footsteps.

By some miracle of God, I was accepted in to San Jose State University fresh from High School. This was fabulous... except that I failed my History class the first semester and I failed Psychology the second semester; I was always late to my art class because it was fifteen walking-minutes away from my History class; and I only found parking on the very top level of the parking garage after circling around it for fifteen minutes. I had declared "Digital Art" as my major because at the time I was totally enthralled with animated cartoons and found Disney Pixar animations to be a brilliant art form! I would have loved an opportunity to work for them! Then the art department changed the definition of "Digital Art" to mean "graphics" and "layouts"... so I said, enough of this! And off to community college I went!

I finished all but a couple of my general ed. classes at two different community colleges, and am now entering my third junior college here in Vacaville. I have four classes to go until my A.A. is complete and have just signed up today for two classes this summer (an online Nutrition class, and P.E. on campus) and two classes this fall (Psychology and History).

Get this, my P.E. class is going to be "Beginning Tennis". *Snort* I enjoy tennis about as much as I enjoy jogging. It's right up there with an eyelash in my eye. I would have loved to take an aerobics class or an exercise class to inspire my weightloss, but they were booked. So tennis it is! Good thing it's only for 6 weeks, and I won't know anyone... I'm the most uncoordinated person God created. He probably thought, "I haven't had a good laugh in awhile what with the wars and prices of gas, so I'll force Jennifer to sign up for tennis. This should lighten my mood."

2008-05-21T20:22:00.000-07:00

This has been emotionally a rough week for us! Our big boy, Jacob, will be going on to Kindergarten this fall, *sniff-sniff*, and has graduated from the Awana Cubbies, completing two books of Bible verse memorization!

His pre-school had a closing-day program filled with songs and then cookies and playtime afterward. Here's Jake in the back row, yellow polo, next to his best friend Joe*. He and Joe met last summer at his pre-school's summer school and have become inseperable!

See how they even walked in to the chapel together, holding hands! *Awww...* How cute are they?!
I've become really good friends with Joe's parents and we've worked it out so that Jake and Joe can attend summer school again this year on the same days. I'm really hoping this friendship lasts, because this fall Jake and Joe will part ways as they go to different Kindergarten schools. Jake has already expressed a distaste in this situation, and thinks it's totally unfair that Joe won't be going to his school. I guess this is a good lesson on the value of one's friendship, and how life isn't about getting what you want, nor is it about life being fair all the time. I better not say that out-loud to Jake or he's likely to throw sand at me...

(*Joe* is not his real name)
*********

Aside from school, Jake's next biggest passion is going to Awana every Tuesday night. He absolutely LOVES it! I can't believe he's actually going on to Sparky's this fall! I mean, that's for elementary school-aged kids... when did he join that age group??

Here he is fresh from receiving his award. He was so thrilled to have received a ribbon ("...and it's BLUE, Mom!") that he immediately demanded I pin it on to his vest that instant.
Here are the boys outside of our Church, and Ben not wasting a moment to be silly.

His wonderful Cubbies teachers put together a computer disk of pictures (with background songs) for us to have, and we watched it today. Hubby watched it this morning while I was at Curves, and when I came home I found him with red eyes, and there were wadded Kleenex balls on the counter. "What's wrong? Allergies?" I asked. He looked at me shocked... "No! It's that Cubbies CD. Did you watch it yet? It had me in tears throughout!" So I hurried over, not wanting to miss the action, and plugged myself in to watch. Before I knew it Hubby was hovering by my side, praising and exclaiming over the greatness of this photograph-filled CD.

It was a great CD, and was ten minutes of all the Cubbies children, Jake being in it here and there... but I couldn't quite grasp what all the fuss was about. About five minutes into it I realized the heavy breathing had deceased out of my left ear and I turned to find Hubby, again with the Kleenex wads, tearing up in the kitchen. "Man up and get a grip!" I shouted. Sure, it was cute, but was it really tear-jerker cute? Hubby protested, "But this is my baby! He's just getting so big! He's just so adorable and I'm so proud of him. I'm the proudest Dad ever!"

*sigh* There are times when I think he definately wears the pants in the family, and then there are times like this when I really know it's probably me. I padded him on his back, passed him the Kleenex box, and left him to his tears.

2008-05-21T20:00:00.000-07:00

I've been going to Curves for a couple of weeks now and haven't quit yet! It's shocking really, that I've lasted this long! Probably because there's no running involved. I worked out five days in a row the first week, four days the second week, and this is my third week and I've gone every day so far and plan to continue on to finish a full five day week.

It's a slight bummer that I haven't seen any changes in the numbers on my scale at home. I stepped on it last week and the read-out flashed "Still Fat", so I tried again this week and it said, "I Can't Breathe". How rude. But I have noticed a slight difference in some areas of my body... for example: I've gained some muscle definition in my legs and have lost the "cankles" effect. My legs are now back to separating the difference between calves and ankles. My butt-fat no longer flows like lava into my upper thighs, there's more definition there as well. And in my stomach I'm still a little thick, but it's less "muffin-top" then before.

All this is good... I guess. My first day at Curves was May 1st, and for some reason on my computer screen when I sign in it has my "weight-check date" set for the 17th of each month. When this date came around the other day I politely asked the young girl (she's like 19) behind the desk if I could please just get weighed and measured the 17th of June instead. She laughed and then added, "Yeah, it's not like you've lost anything yet, huh! You're still kind of the same." Apparently they just let any moron work at a fitness place these days.

2008-05-13T19:24:00.000-07:00

Last summer we decided to splurge and buy a big 10 foot round pool that stands about 3 feet high. Perfect for the kiddos to splash and swim in, and big enough for Hubby and I to relax and kick up our heels. At the time Hubby decided he wanted to put the pool on our patio so it would be under our awning and would spare us the pain and misery of rubbing aloe on our children's sunburned bodies. Personally, I think he didn't want to ruin the grass... like the dogs didn't have a head start on that one!

It was nice to to be out from under the direct sun, but it was surely the coldest pool on the block! Random children would come up to Hubby and say, "Next summer could you put it in the sun?" I complained to Hubby about the sub-zero temperature but neither one of us wanted to dump and re-fill the pool. So it stayed put. We had penguins lounging on our inner tubes. We pulled ice cubes from it to add to our drinks. The boys would go in for about ten minutes at a time and then would re-emerge with frost mounting on their ears.

So when we discussed the pool location this year, the boys and I all said in unision: "On the grass!" So out on the lawn it went. It takes several hours for the pool to fill up and I tried explaining this too the boys but they insisted on watching. "Make yourselves comfortable!" I had warned, and before I had finished hooking up the garden hose I turned in their direction to see the boys lounging on their inner tubes, ready to take in the sights.

After awhile they got a little restless, and the waiting turned into to goofiness and hyperness...
And when Ben had had enough waiting and watching, Charlie came to enjoy the view. This was fine by Jake. He was happy to have the company.
Have you ever watched grass grow? Waiting for the pool to fill up is kind of like that. This was our progress after about an hour. Yep, it was going to be a long day!
We inserted the hose at about eleven in the morning and the pool was finally filled by two o'clock. The boys had tired of waiting and watching and had moved on to other things... mostly finding things for me to inflate. I blew my weight in air filling up inflatable balls, inner tubes, arm floaties, you name it, and when I had puffed my last breath I informed the kids that the pool was ready! They very excited until I told them that it would still take another day or two for it to "warm up". I said, "Remember the popsicle pool from last year? Do you want to swim in that?" They both vigorously shook their head 'no'. No one wanted to re-live that horrific pasttime. My body still trembles at the thought. "Maybe tomorrow afternoon, after my school and after Ben wakes up from his nap..." Jake ventured. Sounded good to me!

2008-05-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

Every year at the beginning of summer I take stock of what new items need to be purchased. The occasional bottle of sunblock, a new beach ball, sunglasses and such... This year it was mostly our outdoor toys and towels. It was a pretty sad sight to see, and every toy I came across seemed to be in worse shape then the first.

Both dismembered shovels are courtesy of the dogs teeth. Look how sad the little yellow one is! It barely has enough breath to lean against the fence.

This boat will no longer float in the moat.
The pool... our sadly squashed, bug infested, dirt trap has seen much better days. The great thing about these pools is you just kick them over, stamp your foot throughout the inner rim, spray water on the spiders, and voila! Back to normal!
When my son held up this towel, and sticking his entire head through it said, "What is this, Mom?" I knew it had soaked up it's last pool-water for good. It had taken it's last trip to the beach. I threw it on the ground for the dogs to enjoy and Charlie (my one-year-old Lab that eats cat poop and chews the carpet) sniffed it hesitantly, jerked his head up, and quickly backed away. I heard Hubby from behind me say, "When the dogs won't touch it, it's time for it to go in the trash."
So this week my mission is to find some new pool toys, new sand toys, new beach towels--preferably smell free and hole free-- and maybe a cute new pair of thongs for me.

2008-05-10T20:21:00.000-07:00

Things I never thought I’d say before I had kids:

“I don’t care what the dog is doing; little boys do not poop on the lawn.”

In the bathtub… “Please stop kissing your brother’s bottom.”

“We do NOT touch our poop and smear it on the floor!”

“Who pee’d in the bathtub?” …when it wasn’t bath time.

“We do not ride the dog!”

“Don’t eat your boogers!”

“Milkbones are not crackers.”

“Please take my bra out of the toilet.”

“Food is for our mouths, not our ears!”

“We draw on paper, not on couches!”

“Stop flicking boogers at your brother!”

“No thank you, I do not want to try on your penis.”

“I understand you are a superhero, but you may NOT wear my underwear over your pants to school.”

“Don’t wipe your nose on my pillow!”

2008-05-06T14:59:00.000-07:00

I've had highlights in my hair for the past few months now, re-highlighting them once somewhere in the middle, and slowly the color has changed from light brown/honey to crayola yellow. I think it had something to do with the sun. This morning in front of the mirror I decided the zebra look wasn't for me and trooped off to Target for a box of color. At the suggestion of my sister-in-law (who's own natural hair color is miles beneath her color-treated surface) I bought L'Oreal's Excellence Creme in Dark Chocolate Brown. On the box it looked a lot like my natural color. On the box...

After taking my kids for a picnic in the park, I got to work on my hair. First thing, I laid out all the contents and took stock. Conditioner: check. Color treatment: check. Gloves: check. Towel: check. Hubby's raised eyebrows: check. Vomit in the back of the throat from nerves: check. The application bottle looked so small that I freaked out about the possibility of not having enough liquid, and then as I began applying it I realized I had more then enough for my entire head. I would squirt a little here, a dab there, a glob there...

The problem wasn't the tiny applicator bottle, or the drops on my bathroom rug, or the fact that I had ruined one of Hubby's t-shirts... no the problem was the smell! The stench of the chemicals was so bad I had mascara running down my burnt eyes onto my cheeks (I double checked to make sure it mascara and not dye), I had the bathroom window open and the bedroom window open and I would occasionally run to the bedroom window and literally press my face up against the screen gasping for fresh air. I'd gasp in some big breaths and troop back to the bathroom to finish another layer. Back and forth, to and from the window I went for the entire fifteen minutes it took me to apply the glop.

Then I was supposed to "loosely pile" my hair on top of my head for 30 minutes. Yeah, right. My hair doesn't "loosely pile". It's got short layers throughout, it's heavy and thick and was stuck in clumps because of the dye-goo. So I ended up turning on Day's of Our Lives and rotating my arms to the top of my head, helping to "loosely pile" my hair. For 30 long minutes I had my arms up.

The time came to rinse out my hair, which was fine because Sami and John were having the same conversation over and over as characters do on a Soap... and then the real drama started. I turned on my shower to a warm temperature (per the box instructions) and assessed my surroundings. Hubby came in to check things out. "Do you want to take the shirt off?" He asked. I declined, explaining to him my brilliant plan of leaning very far over into the stream of water and that I'd remove my clothing after and take a shower to finish up.

So I leaned forward letting the water cascade over the top of my hair, and soon the bottom of the shower pan filled slowly with brown liquid water. I was leaning very far forward so as not to get my bathroom rug wet. All was going well, but then I had a not-so-brilliant idea of turning the spout more directly on me. The water started going over my ears and around my collar, and over the top of my forehead. I blindly grabbed a washcloth to cover my eyes, but it was soaked through in a matter of seconds. Then the outside water line from the sprinklers on the lawns turned off and all of the sudden my shower increased in pressure and turned very HOT! I desperately clawed the tiles on the walls reaching for the cold spout, found it, and gave it a good yank. With my arm still extended on the cold spout this gave the water a new incentive, and before I knew it I had water running down my arm, into my shirt, soaking my bra and receding to parts south from there.

Apparently I was hooting and hollering because suddenly Hubby appeared and asked if I needed help. I was blind from the stinging brown liquid, I had a drenched washcloth covering my face, my clothes were soaked through, and the bathroom was trashed. I raised my face in his direction and very calmly said, "Could you hand me a towel, please?" I wiped my face as best as I could, and with Hubby's assistance removed the excess water and dye from my hair. When we were done, and I was standing there like a drenched dog, Hubby asked, "Why didn't you just strip and take a shower? Wouldn't that have been easier then... this??" He gestured toward my body. So I showered.

Looking in the mirror afterward I found several stained spots of dark dye on my clothes, forehead, arms, toes (don't ask) and rug. I also found I had a mesh imprint on the side of my cheek from me pressing my face against the window screen for air. Then I looked at the color. Great, instead of a zebra I was now Snow White: pasty white skin on my no-makeup face and dark, dark brown hair. After I let my hair dry I went back to the mirror and re-assessed. Something was missing... makeup! Bad move! Snow White meet gothic chick. I give up.

2008-05-05T17:24:00.000-07:00

The funniest thing happened in the car today on the way to Costco! --Yes, I know, all of my stories have something to do with Costco. What can I say, we live next door to it!

Anyway, Ben saw a big truck out of his window and said (over and over) "big tuck, big tuck!" and I acknowledged that yes, it was a big truck. If I don't respond or repeat him he goes on and on like a broken record! So then Jake looked around and said, "Where's the big truck?" Ben pointed his little chubby hand over his head and says, "Back dare, Daytub (Jacob), back dare." And of course Jake has totally missed the truck but he's still looking for it and still asking, and Ben is still sitting there saying "Back dare, Daytub, back dare..." over and over. So finally I said, "Just let it go, Jacob, let it go." And before Jake could respond Ben said, "Let it doe, Daytub, let it doe."

Jake and I were laughing so hard, it was absolutely hilarious!! Maybe you had to be there, but come on, anyone who pronounces "Jacob" as "Daytub" has to be cute!!

2008-05-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

I've had enough! Enough of the videos, enough of the diets that don't work, enough of my plastic scale... so I broke down and went back to Curves. I have been contemplating doing this ever since I found out Hubby has a high school reunion in exactly... 4 months! Yeesh! No time to waste.

So this morning I talked about joining Curves to my Hubby and he said (his exact words): "I'm fine with paying the $39 a month for you to go, as long as you're actually going to do it. I don't want to pay for something that just sits around and that you don't take advantage of." So I very calmly, but sternly, pointed out that he has a dirt bike and a go kart in his garage that "sit around" and don't get taken "advantage of" most of the year. He just kind of looked at me and said I was right (then bells and whistles went off because Hubby NEVER admits to being right). Then I sucked in my gut and headed for Curves...

When I got there I had a big knot in my stomach... I wasn't sure if it was anxiety over joining or if it was from pepperoni pizza I had just scarfed down. Either way, I was uneasy. After talking to a nice woman named Debra I was really beginning to warm up to the place, and after sharing a laugh about how it's been awhile since I've been there (I joined in early 2005 and quit promptly in 2006), she pulled out my file. It's good to know all my old body weights and measurements and old goals were still accounted for on my old "fat" chart. Heaven forbid there be a fire in the two years I've been gone that would have cleared all that out for me.

And then Debra walks me over to this large, looming, doctor-type of scale. You know the kind that have the little bar you scoot across the top, the kind that always seems to need to "add" more weight... it's the type of scale that basically laughs at you when you approach it. Oh, and a hearty chuckle it got about me! Not only did it creak when I stepped on it (seriously, how embarrassing), but when my "suggestive" weight of 142 wasn't nearly enough to even out the scale marker, she had to move the bar way over nearer to the 150 mark! Talk about adding insult to injury! It was mocking me for sure!

Then Debra took out her little tape measure and measured everything! Arms, waist, chest, hips (good Lord, the hips), calves, toenails... the woman did it all. And I'm trying to be honest, so I would tell her things like "oh wait, I'm sucking in a little" and, "I want it to all hang out..." and so I'd relax and there the fat would go, dropping over my jean's waistline like the top of a cupcake. The misery, the dread, the cold hard slap in the face of what I'd let my body become... the Pillsbury dough boy has nothing on me.

Then as we're doing the paperwork and discussing fat goals and the such, I'm just going on and on about how I'm at the heaviest I've EVER been in my entire life and how I can't believe I've let myself get this big and how I need to lose a good 10-15 pounds in order to feel better about my body... and Debra very nicely says, "Well I would kill to be your weight! Your current weight is my goal weight! I've already lost 20 pounds and I would love it if I were your size." Good grief, I was mortified.

Then Debra starts talking about how she hasn't been there for the past couple of weeks due to some gall stones and rocks in her stomach that are going to require major surgery, and so she won't be able to work out for awhile. Put me in the oven and shut the door. I shut my mouth and had a mental argument with God for letting me go on and on in front of this poor woman. Talk about your lessons in humility! Here she is, already having lost 20 pounds (which I profusely congratulated her on) and is bummed because she can't work out due to a medical illness. Here I am blabbing on like an idiot for being lazy and not taking advantage of my God-given, perfectly healthy, albeit robust, body.

Anyway, so I start Monday and I'm actually pretty excited! Plus, I'll get to buy clothes! And shoes! Let's not forget the Simple brand shoes I attempted to "run" in the other day. That simply won't work for Curves. And I might need a new blush... something that says "sweaty while watching tv"...

2008-05-01T15:54:00.000-07:00

The weather was absolutely gorgeous outside today and when my boys asked for a snack a fruit pop sounded like the smart solution! And they thoroughly enjoyed them!

I had been snapping a few pics of the boys as they casually enjoyed their treats, and then low-and-behold, a sign of affection! And where was my camera during this rare moment? Turned off and on the other side of the patio on the table. So I hurried over, walking quickly for fear if I ran that it would ruin the brotherly love. I grabbed my camera, turned it on and whipped around right as they began to separate. This is the only shot I got of them together... and Jake's head is cut off. But it's better than nothing!
Here we are, scraping every last morsel of popsicle goodness off the stick. Ben was never one to waste a treat!

2008-05-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

Thank you Karen for this fun website! http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofcerealareyouquiz/

What kind of cereal are you? I am Cheerios!

Like other Cheerios eaters, you want to be a responsible adult, but you can't help but still be a kid at heart! You try to make good decisions. You're a clean cut, conscientious person. You're the type of person who would never skip breakfast. Part of you thinks that breakfast is too important to miss... But a bigger part of you knows it's too fun to miss!

2008-04-30T14:01:00.000-07:00

I'm a "planner". I make lists and schedules and like to have my days and weeks planned out so I know what to expect in advance. Don't get me wrong, I love a spontaneous adventure or a surprise here and there, but mostly I decide my daily life ahead of time. I thrive on it, and I'm known for it.

My oldest child, Jake, has inherited this lovely attribute from me, and he plans way in advance too. From January on he plans his next Christmas wish list. From the beginning of the school year he plans for the next summer. From the early morning he plans his pajamas for that night. I love him for this. We, together and/or separately, get labeled every name in the book from "over anxious" to "extra excited" to "paranoid". But that's okay with me. The people who aren't "planners", those are the ones who will worry if their underwear is clean during an emergency.

Jake also plans his birthday parties a year in advance. I'm absolutely NOT joking about this. When he turned two he celebrated with a Maisy party and the next day began talking about how his next party would be a Buzz Lightyear celebration. I changed his third birthday for him at the last minute to Animal Planet, but the day after his party he decided that Spiderman would be the theme for when he turned four. And on his fourth birthday, while the Spiderman decorations were still freshly hung, he planned his fifth party: a sports-themed extravaganza.

I loaded the kids in the car this morning and we headed off to the party store in search of decorations. The party is four weeks away, and to get the invitations out right on schedule, we needed to buy them ASAP! Taking two boys to a party store was a lot more tempting for them than I originally thought. All of my son's plans slowly began to drain from his little excited eyes when he surveyed the spectacle around him. Before I knew it we had Transformers, and Baseball, and Football, and Star Wars and Backyardigans themed supplies piling high inside our shopping cart.

"Just a minute here!" I declared. "We have too much! You need to decide on what theme you like best and we'll go from there." His little face slowly turned from excitement to bewilderment and he looked at me like, "How exactly do you expect me to do this?" So I carefully reminded him that he originally planned on Sports for the theme, and I further explained that we didn't really need to get the Tyrone and Uniqua Backyardigans dolls or the American Idol trophy to accomplish this. He held up a Star Wars decorative ribbon and with the biggest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen asked, "Please don't make me put back the ribbon!" I then had to be the "tough" Mom that I dread (my kids usually see right through me) and told him that he could buy the Star Wars ribbon if he was going to choose that as his theme. He reluctantly put it back.

Then he saw a plastic archeologist's hat (I know, I gagged too) and begged once more for me to buy it. "That hat is part of the dinosaur party. Is that what you want?" I asked him, knowing full well that to him dinosaurs ranked in the same category as My Little Pony. Another hour (no exaggeration), and fifty dollars later the back of our car was filled with Sports-themed stuff. And in place of the beloved Star Wars ribbon was a red, white and blue ribbon with a gold medal that said #1 in the center.

When we arrived home I think he was still a little unsure of his decisions, but he layed it all out on the counter for Daddy to see. And as soon as Daddy made an inappropriate "poop" comment in reference to the football pinata, I knew Jake was hooked. He was ready to pass out the invitations today!

2008-04-29T17:14:00.000-07:00

In honor of Mother's Day coming up, I thought I'd post some cute little comics I stumbled upon...

2008-04-29T15:21:00.000-07:00

Ever since I worked at KinderCare, I've never been able to quite "shake" that teacher-ness about me. I still cut out pictures from a magazine for my kids to glue on paper, and I still save nut cans, coffee cans, basically any can with a plastic lid... and make my own "shape sorters" or "mailboxes" for them to enjoy. We still do an art project (or two or three) just about every day, and my son absolutely LIVES for these pre-school paper packets that I continually put together for him to "do his homework". This is, I'm sure, the only time in his life that he'll think "homework" is enjoyable.

Last week was a slow week for us, no big outtings or adventures planned, so I did some creative thinking and got out my big binder of children's activities (literally, it's a black spiral binder stuffed with art project ideas, songs, games, etc... and when I pull it out my kids act like Santa dropped by for a visit). I came up with "Sticky Floor" for the kids to experiment with. I used to do this when Jake was younger but it's been awhile. You take contact paper, roll it out sticky side up and then tape it to a hard surface. It works better on a hard floor, or even outside, then on carpet. If you don't have tape, then cut off pieces of the contact paper to "tape" it down.

My kids thought it looked really exciting! Jake was so anxious to try it, he literally dove head first into it (see photo below) and then started laughing hysterically because he was "glued down" as he cried out.
The next time he tried it a little more cautiously and then lost his balance (see flailing arms) and began to fall, landing again, all fours down. It was hilarious to watch!
Ben on the other hand did NOT enjoy this. I'm sure it didn't help that Jake had previously flew on top of it and remained "glued down" in a fit of giggles until I came to rescue him. It also didn't help that Jake was screaming "it's got my toes and won't let go!" So Ben ventured one foot only (see photo). He stayed like that for about 5 min. before I told him to "step off" if he didn't want to walk across.

Oh, it was hilarious to watch, and Jake enjoyed it for several hours. Ben decided he wanted nothing to do with it and would very carefully walk around it, seriously like two feet away from it, to pass by.

2008-04-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

What started out as being a simple task, hanging a ceiling a fan in Ben's room, ended up being sooo much more...

The boys started by sitting on stools at Daddy's feet and handing him tools and screws at Daddy's requests... and then the mundane boringness hit my kids like sugar to their tummies and they went into silliness overdrive!

Yes, this white contraption is part of the light fixture that Daddy is patiently waiting to be handed, while perched up high on a ladder... but not before the boys have some fun!

Benjamin had to try it too! It's only fair of course. Daddy is still on the ladder, and even though Jake is smiling happily at him, I think Daddy is beginning to lose his patience.
Then the boys notice I have the camera turned on, and the goofiness escalates. "Take one of us like this!" they yell. And when Jake no longer had the lighting fixture for a frame, he grabbed the next most practical item, a stool, and made due with that.

So then Daddy was a little tired of waiting and suggested that I take the boys into the living room to assemble the fan blades. The more the boys "helped" me, the more work it became. Here's Benjamin bound and determined to continue screwing in the screw that I've already attached... and he's using the wrong tool at his insistance.
Ben soon becomes bored with the screwing, and after careful examination decides the fan blade looks like a surfboard. So he hops on and refuses to get off. Seriously, five, ten minutes are rolling by. Jake is howling in the background behind me, because as all 4-year-old's know, "a fan is not a surfboard!"
Ben then tries to "surf" down the hallway to Daddy and I'm yelling at him, "get off the fan before you scratch it!" and Jake is yelling (and giggling), "It's not a surfboard!" and Daddy is yelling from the top of the ladder, "Babe! Where's the fan blades?!" So Ben goes running in to his room, holding proudly the blade, and says, "Here's the surfboard Daddy". I started laughing and I could hear Daddy chuckling too. Ben ran back to me, grabbed another blade and ran back to Daddy yelling "Here's one! Here's a surfboard!" This was repeated for all four fan blades.

Oh, maybe you had to be there, but it was pure silliness in our home this morning. After all that, after getting it installed and working properly (surfboards and all), we found the motor to be broken. It makes a very loud "whirring" sounds as it circulates. *sigh* Back it goes to the store tomorrow, and the drama continues...

2008-04-28T07:37:00.001-07:00

I broke my rule of waiting two weeks to step on the scale this morning... thoughts of "how badly did I do this weekend?" began to sink in. I counted back throughout the past couple of days, one steak, two cupcakes, three sodas, four handfuls of chips... we'll just stop there. No need to get nauseous this early in the morning.

When I stepped on that cold piece of plastic this morning the numbers literally began to jump all over the place. It was 142, then 147, then 145, then 138 (I swear I whispered "Stop there!" on that number!) and so on. I felt like I was in Vegas at a slot machine! "Land all three 138's in a row, and win a muffin-top reduction!" Then the numbers stopped... on 143. That's not too terrible... I tried to reason with myself.

I mean let's be honest here, if someone was to ask my weight today, then weighing in at 143 I could clearly say, "Oh, I'm just about 140..." which sounds like I'm just under it, and not a couple notches above it. And in all honesty, if I stick to my "better lifestyle choices" (I've been told dieting doesn't work) then in a couple of weeks I might actually be 140. Okay, so at that point I can just claim to weigh 135, because we all know that if you weigh between 135-140 you can automatically register your number as "135". It's basic math really.

So I'm back to my "better lifestyle choices" today, and had a nice, but slightly bland, bowl of Cheerios for breakfast. Even if I don't lose weight by eating Cheerios for breakfast, I can still have piece of mind that my cholesterol is being lowered instead.

2008-04-24T12:27:00.000-07:00

Here's the original post if someone needs a good laugh at my droopy, saggy, squinchy self. Pass it on, let the whole world see, but I'll be darned if I'm going to post the pictures that go with this again! You can divert your attention to the next post... And thanks Karen for finding this... I looked and looked and couldn't find this post anywhere, but good to know it wasn't lost forever. It'd be a real shame for the world to miss out on how much I weigh, and how my Hubby views my body.

“Alright, so I'm going to be brave. I'm going to face my diet fears and jump in Vader-head first. I asked Hubby to take some pictures of me so I could have before and after shots. When I came out with the Vader-head on, Hubby just shook his head at me and said, "Whatever". Then as I was taking the photos, he was yelling things like, "No sucking it in!" and "That's right, let it all hang out..." and "Don't squinch your butt!" Squinch my butt? I wasn't purposely doing that, but note to self: when around other people, try to make butt look un-squinchable.

After he took my pictures he noticed I had earrings on and asked, "Why are you wearing earrings if you had a mask on in the pictures?" I just kind of gave him a weird look. "It's still a picture, and mask or not, I don't want to look like a complete dodo." I sure sidestepped that one, huh!

So here I am, weighing in at a whopping 143.5 lbs. on day 1 of my adventure in dieting. It's never fun to weigh myself, but I go all out. I strip to my birthday suit, use the bathroom, blow my nose, take off jewelry, pull my Scuncii hair band out of my hair (you never know what helps)... and then step on the little white box that will forever taunt me. I am determined to lose weight by my Hubby's reunion in 4 months and now 7 days (which, he informed me, I have even less time since I'll "need time to go shopping before then" so I'll need to lose the weight even sooner then expected). Good grief. Right after these peanut butter waffles, I'm going to jump on it!”

2008-04-24T07:18:00.000-07:00

At the requests of my fans (all two of them) here's the lovely Darth photos again. I had deleted the original post after I re-read it and hated it, to find later that it apparently was one of the best blogs I had written. *sigh* It won't be perfect, but here's a re-attempt.
Here's me in my all-together (as my Grandma would say):

And again, folks, that's just one beefy leg you're looking at, not two:
And the lovely, bulging, back fat and biceps are back as well... right above my squinchy butt:

I hated taking these photos. The whole time Hubby was yelling things like, "Suck it in." "Don't hold back!" "Don't try to perk up your boobs, let them be saggy..." Oh, yeah, a real self-esteem booster he is. "Don't make your butt look so squinchy"... Like I'm trying?? That's just my natural butt. It's huge, and round, and if possible still a little on the flat side. Good grief.

I have 4 months and 6 days to get skinny before my Hubby's reunion and so far I have done one day of dieting and almost killed myself with starvation and had a slight relapse involving my couch, my Prison Break dvd's and a bag of Honey Wheat Pretzel Sticks. Stop right there, for the record, I did NOT eat the entire bag... I believe there are still a few sticks left in the bag amongst the crumbs at the bottom. This is my defense:

Yesterday I started off by having an Eggo waffle with peanut butter for breakfast, and for lunch I had some strawberries and a breaded chicken breast stuffed with cheese and broccoli (and no, it was not made by me, it was courtesy of the frozen foods aisle at Win-Co) ...and then I had a few pretzel sticks (literally like 6) for a snack in the afternoon and most, but not all, of a can of coke. At dinner I had a huge salad with a low fat Asian sesame dressing that my Hubby said looks like "baby diarrhea", and a very very small portion of spaghetti.

So understandably, I was absolutely starving by 8:00 and could not wait until morning. So I tried some grapes. That did nothing. So I started by having a small handful of pretzel sticks, and then I had another 6 after that, and then my dvd's got soooo good and I was so involved that I didn't notice I wasn't hungry anymore!

And after awhile I thought, well what do you know! So I picked the bag up to put it away and realized it was extremely light. I very cautiously glanced down into the bag and realized my demise. Well of course I wasn't hungry anymore, I'd eaten almost everything... I'm honestly a little surprised I didn't started tearing off pieces of the bag and eating that too! But in my defense, when your starving from lack of food throughout the day (and NO chocolate... ooh, I'm getting a little light headed just thinking about it) and you're staring at the beautiful Wentworth Miller on the dvd screen, you just sort of lose yourself.

*sigh* Back to square one today. After I told Hubby this he just kind of shook his head and recommended that "maybe you should just weigh yourself every couple of weeks instead of every day" so I would "see results". Yeah, because he knows that if I weigh myself every day and the scale goes up again then, the depression will sink in and he's back to t.v. dinners.

2008-04-23T17:50:00.000-07:00

This is how my day has gone:

Yelled from the bathroom: "Mom!! I got some pee outside of the toilet!" That was a real treat to listen to and clean up.

Then my youngest one sees me sitting in a chair with my stomach pushed out slightly over my jeans (give a girl a break; I'd just eaten) and he decides to push it and say, "Wow! Tummy Mommy!" totally mesmorized pushing it in and out. Just lovely... "Thanks honey, if you really want to see a show, go check out Daddy's tummy"... I felt like saying.

Or this morning when I was literally stepping outside to head for the grocery store, I had my keys in hand and purse on my shoulder and my oldest was absolutely bewildered that I might run over a slug on the driveway when I backed the car out. *eyebrows raised* "A slug??" I ventured carefully. Sure enough, both boys rushed over to the top edge of the driveway and pointed at a small black creature inching it's slimy way across our pavement. So I had to very, very slowly back out, with my oldest standing on the sidelines and carefully guiding me with his hands "around" the precious slug. Then, when I apparently had cleared into the safe region, I got a thumbs-up of approval. *rolls eyes* Just what the world needs: one more alive slug.

2008-04-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

The other day my hubby got word that his High School reunion of fifteen years would be the 1st of August. Terrific. I have exactly 4 months and 8 days to lose weight... and not just a couple of pounds that can be saved by laying of the soda for a couple of weeks. No no, I mean a good fifteen pounds or so. I'm almost 7 years younger than my hubby, so to show up at his reunion 7 years younger than the other woman is a big plus... but not if they're thinking, "look at that balding man with his chubby little sister... was he in our class??" No, this is not the image I look forward to presenting.

Hubby joked "Do I have time to start Rogaine?" haha... Don't tell him, but I checked out some boxes in the supermarket on this hair stuff, and I didn't think they'd kick in in time. I just told him, "You're tall. Just stand up straight and try not to bend over. Maybe no one will notice." As it is with us, I have to stand on a step-stool to kiss him goodnight, let alone notice his receding hair line. He's so tall he usually yells down to the children instead of talking. He also notices the rain before the rest of us, too. Oh, I could go on... but I have much bigger problems to face than his hair-loss fiasco.

First, how to lose the weight? I'd like to post a shout-out to a lovely woman named Karen who is always coming up with delicious recipes that are healthy, low-fat and look absolutely delicious. This is a woman who wakes up in the wee hours of the morning to bake earth-friendly cupcakes. Not just regular Betty Crocker packaged cupcakes, but from scratch, organic, good for the environment, eat the dirt from your backyard, cupcakes. When I wake up early in the morning, my first decision is powdered or chocolate (donuts). Maybe I need to start here: establishing a low fat, low calorie diet that will enable me to eat the foods I enjoy and still lose weight.

Secondly, should I... exercise?? AUGHH! It's a frightening phrase to spit out of my mouth. I had to take a sip of water before I could continue with this thought. I am a horrible exerciser... shall we revisit the dreaded running spectacle. *shudders* Okay, I have some videos I can work out to, but it's really hard when I'm trying to "Walk with Leslie Sansone" and my two-year-old drops my weights on my feet then runs in-between my legs while I'm kicking. Note to self: while it's good that legs are getting kicked high enough in the air for a small child to pass underneath, it's not good that I'm landing on Darth Vador's light saber and tripping over my own weights. I need to start working out in the evening when the children are asleep (or pretending to lay in their beds).

Third, what do I wear? I'll need new makeup, new shoes (ooh, a pedicure for sure), new underwear (don't ask... there was an incident involving some Crayola brand sissors and a marker and my bra...) and of course, a dress. What does one wear to a fifteen year reunion when one is 7 years younger than everyone else? I need to look pretty, and elegant... young, but not like I'm 18. Is this the event for a cocktail dress? Would a long gown be appropriate? Jeans with heels? Oh, help!

For the next 4 months and 8 days I'll be worrying about everything I eat, if I'm getting enough exercise (someone told me chasing an ice cream truck down the street at the requests of my children doesn't count), if I be able to find something to wear (and I'll have to lose some pounds before I can begin looking and trying on), will Hubby's hair line stop receding... oh the drama. I think I need a cookie to calm myself down... and maybe a soda to wash down the cookie.

2008-04-17T17:45:00.000-07:00

I was never really concerned about the amount of television my children watched because I figured they were pretty well rounded individuals, with plenty of balance between outside play, art work, reading time and so forth...

Then the other day our Directv box broke down in the living room, and I almost broke down with it. Could I possibly function as a Mom without a television?? My worst nightmare was coming true--I might actually have to entertain my kids myself! And what would I do if I needed to take a shower? Or make dinner? Or pluck my eyebrows? Utter devastation set in...

Hubby called the Directv hotline (thank goodness for those lovely people; I'll have to send them a package of cookies at Christmas)... and they put a new box in the mail which would arrive in three days. "Three days!?!?" I exclaimed to Hubby. He tried to sympathize with me but truth be told he leaves for work in the middle of the day, so frankly I didn't think he cared much.

I woke up in a panic the first morning when realization hit me that there would be no cartoons with breakfast. I suggested a movie to my boys and they quickly agreed. Then for the rest of the day I found several instances in which I thought to myself, "I could put on another movie now..." but then I'd look at my dirty, sweaty, angels knee deep in outdoor play, and sending pb&j-stained smiles in my direction every few minutes... and I'd decide to let them be.

Then I became creative. Who knew K'nex were highly entertaining in the bathtub (not when shoved up a bottom, though)? Or that transformers can become "sand creatures" outside. Hide-and-Go-Seek became a favorite (alright, boring) indoors and outdoors game... but it made me smile every time my two-year-old would call out "Marco" and my four-year-old would reply "Polo" from his hidden spot. Who knew "Marco, Polo" wasn't just for swimming pools!?

Surprisingly over the next few days I realized that my kids don't actually watch that much television. Sure, they start the day off with Dora and Boots and a couple of other characters, but really for the rest of the day they're too busy to stop and sit... for longer than lunch. And I will purposely put on a show during the late afternoon when I'm trying to make dinner, or in the middle of the morning when I'm desperate for a shower, but I'm willing to negotiate with my "inner-mother" for those few thirty minutes of quiet. Sometimes my inner-mother talks back to me about my parenting, but I just shut her up with a brownie, or an extra serving of ice cream, and peace resides again.

2008-04-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

This has not been my day today... I feel like the little boy in Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Which is an excellent book, by the way.

This morning my son got milk on the couch (gross), and then his toothpaste fell on the floor. I poked myself in the eye with my finger when I was applying my eye liner, and my comfy jeans were in the dirty clothes so I was forced to wear a pair of old capri pants that make my butt flatter than a piece of paper. I hate those pants.

There was nothing to eat for breakfast but an Eggo waffle, so I cooked it and piled it high with peanut butter. Before I could endulge, my littlest son wanted juice and my oldest wanted a pancake. After I fixed them their breakfast, I realized my baby had wet through his pj's and both boys were squabbling over the most coveted spot to sit on the couch. After I pried them loose and changed my baby, I returned to my waffle to find it cold and very unappealing. Then I made the mistake of stepping on the scale and found I had gained two pounds! It was the start of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I received some photos I ordered in the mail and half of them had people's head's chopped off, and another third were extremely off-centered. I called the customer service line and told the woman I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, and she kindly explained the service options I had chosen, and "helped me to understand" why it was indeed my fault. I asked her, "Why would I choose to cut off my niece's head all the way down to her eyebrows?" and she went on to again "help me understand"... after I "raised my voice" I began to realize she may be right... and I hate to be wrong. It annoys me terribly. So I ended up ordering a few pictures from Costco instead, to later be told by my Photographer sister that Costco's development is "doo-doo". Just great...

And then I received a call from one of two women who had purchased some Pottery Barn Kids items from me off of Craig's List, and she informed me that she did not receive what she bought, and "did someone else also buy Pottery Barn Kids bedding from me?" I soon realized that I had mailed the two packages yesterday to the wrong women--I had switched the address labels by mistake. This women was in Sacramento... the other was in Texas. I apologized profusely but she was still pretty irritated even when I explained I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. So now I have to pay for each women to ship the box to the other woman, which will cost me another $24 out of my pocket.

I think I'll just order a pizza tonight and head to bed early... My hubby is working an earlier shift and should be home by nine tonight, which is a rare delight. I got all excited to watch Lost with him and then he informed me that it was a repeat. I informed him I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and he told me... some days are just like that.

2008-04-14T19:44:00.001-07:00

This week at my son's preschool the theme is "Royalty Week", and the kids have the option of dressing up in character. Today Jake went as a Knight, with his shield and green cape (don't get me started on the drama of him not being able to bring the matching sword). And when I picked him up, what do I hear, "Mom on the next day (Wed.) I want to be a King! I need a big flowey cape because King's don't wear small capes like this one." I'll give him that... his green cape is one I sewed for him when he was two and it barely reaches past his hips.

So as soon as we arrived home I got out my sewing basket to observe my scraps. I had soft cotton blue-and-white pinstripes and blue cotton with light yellow stars. "I can make the cape from this (gesturing to the blue-and-white stripes) and I can make the tie-straps out of the stars..." Jake thinks about it for a minute and slowly nods his head. "Yes. Yes, I think that will be fine. I'll also need a crown I think, otherwise they won't know I'm a King..." I'm thrilled to please you Your Majesty, I want to mutter but stifle in protest...

So feeling like Cinderella's twin, I get out my needle and thread and get to work. I never did get around to making a crown. His Majesty was pleased:

I asked him to model as a King and this is what I got...

In this picutre one of his Royal Subjects is looking on as he's being "dashing"...
And in this picture, the Royal Subject is stealing the King's thunder with his cheeky grin.
I see you've noticed the shield is back in the last picture... well, he decided after all to be a Knight... again. At first he was going to be a King with a shield and so I had to explain the roles of a Knight and a King: usually the Knight carries the shield and is a protector of the King, and the King sits on his throne and gives orders. After much consideration, apparently both options sounded appealing, he chose to be a Knight again. I told him this was the last cape I was making, and if he chose to be a Knight again on Friday he'd have to choose from one of the capes we already had... he replied, "We'll just wait and see Mom. I'll think about it." I just rolled my eyes.

2008-04-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

Of course the "Shout to the Lord" from American Idol is playing all over youtube.com, another secular website, but I thought some comments from random people about this song were kind of neat and worth sharing:

"Beautiful...absolutely beautiful. When they started singing this song, I got off the couch and just stood in my family room, totally blown away. An amazing song, whether you are a Christian or not. Who can be offended by such an uplifting & positive song? Our kids need to hear more songs like this, instead of the trashy, negative, destructive lyrics they are exposed to on a daily basis."

"Hooray! Someone in American Idol got it right! America was founded by people seeking a place to worship God in spirit and truth A nation founded on the gospel of Jesus Christ."

"I commend the singers for singing that song it shows the world how much that God is still alive and working and no one can compare to him Great Job Idol I commend you."

"When did the FOX network become a religious supporter? Bizzare choice of song, for me."

"No religion in music on TV. Music is about passions. Hate, love, loss, joy, fear. It's all art (some of it admittedly crappy). We should be willing to hear all of it and appreciate when true feelings can be expressed in music. The Doors, Black Sabbath, Metallica all have sung beautifully about darkness to help us undertand it. I also want to hear songs about light for the same reason. What about U2 -- ever listen to their lyrics (heavy on the God/spiritual stuff); same with Johnny Cash."

"whats wrong with it? its a good song. all the people who are whining need to get other it. I'm Buddhist. STILL a good song."

"perfect song choice, to GOD be the glory"

"Wholly Cow! I am having a hard time believing that was actually on American Idol!! Incredible! (in a great way!!!!) "

"this gave me goosebumps..as always! praise the Lord!!!!!"

"With all the violence, sex, racism... and every offensive thing imaginable in music today, it is unbelievable that this was allowed. Praise Jesus. We all know that being a white man or christian is very very unpopular in the world today."

"Praise to the Most High God."

"Hooray for Jesus! Thank you American Idol for being bold and going with your gut! I was starved of good music and you stood out with this! That's the beauty of America to me (and I am not Amreican)"

Here's one person version of the song that they downloaded on youtube. There's tons out there!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6G0U8Vg6nY

2008-04-11T17:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, how surprised was everyone that the American Idol contestants sang "Shout To The Lord" on national television last night?!?! I (honest-to-goodness) pressed the info button on my remote to make sure I tuned into the right channel. And, to top it all off, they sounded GOOD! Almost like they beleived what they were singing. Not that I'm judging anyone, but let's be honest here, this is a popular, secular show. I thought, "Wow! Way to shock the world, Lord!"

2008-04-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

So I was wondering, does anyone else have a conversation with their child like this:

me: What did you have for snack today? (in school)
son: I don't know.
me: Really? Was it crackers?
son: No... (skeptical)
me: Well, we brought the milk today, so you had milk... (trailed off to silence)
son: Oh yeah! I know. We had those... you know... those things that you cook in the oven. And then we put that stuff on top. And then we ate them.
me: Okay... (hesitant)
son: We had that... with milk.
me: *sigh* Was it good? What did it look like?
son: I don't know.

This was our conversation on our way home today after I picked him up from preschool. Keep in mind I picked him up at 3:30 and they usually have snack around 3:00. Good grief...