Brina Hyena

Magical Toonaise

2008-10-13T22:45:00.000-07:00

Our household was on pins and needles for Tuesday, October 7th. All the TV commercials were adding to the anticipation, it seemed like every 5 minutes I was hearing about it. Tuesday, October 7th. You've been waiting for it. It's almost here! Disney's Sleeping Beauty. In a magical two days, you too can own the masterpiece. Yah, yah.

Well, Madi was waiting. She waited and was counting down her days and on the 7th we were at Target (because they are the cheapest!) to get her copy.

On Saturday, with Mike and Alex at a hockey game, Mimi and Papa came over to see the masterpiece we'd been waiting so long to obtain for our very own. During the movie, Mimi asked Madi if she knew what Maleficent's bird's name was. Madi said "It's Magical Toonaise. I saw it on the commercial. They showed the wicked witch and her bird and they called it Magical Toonaise." (AKA in a magical two days = Magical Toonaise)

So we've watched it a couple times since then (4 to be exact) and she calls the bird Toonaise. "Mama, Mama, the fairies did magic and Toonaise saw them and told the witch and that's how she found Princess Aurora. That Toonaise is a mean bird."

I almost told her but Mimi and Papa said don't. I'm kinda glad I didn't because she is super convinced that his name is Toonaise and it will make a great story to tell her later on.

Things I could do without

2008-09-09T15:53:00.000-07:00

1. Go-Gurt. Whoever thought sucking flavored, thickened dairy product through a thin plastic tube was appealing is wrong. And my children love it. Every time we go somewhere that offers it with a kids meal I feel sick to my stomach. Especially at the end when the yogurt is gone and they sit there licking the plastic that I cannot verify where it's been.

2. Nasty room mother. Welcome to kindergarten. Day 1. Drop off your child, cry a little, go to the cafeteria to sign up for stuff. I got to the sign up sheet for Alex's room and noticed someone else had signed up in the first spot for room mother. I frowned, because I had assumed in my head I would be first. I signed up also, and looked at it as a chance to work with someone and get to know some new people. Well, she should have signed in as Hell Witch. I found out she lives on our block and when we saw her in passing, she was rude and condescending. I could go on, but I will give her another chance. Stay tuned.

3. Inner ear disease. Vertigo, nausea, blurred vision, headaches. Currently undergoing tests to see exactly what it is, and yes, the waay-aaaay-ting is the hardest part. But it makes driving and riding a bike very interesting.

Like, whatever...

2008-08-20T17:33:00.000-07:00

Mike and I went to lunch today at one of our usual spots, a local sandwich shoppe with super delicious food. (I don't know why I spelled shop that way, it just looks cooler)

We took our seats outside so I could get some much needed sunshine. I didn't pay much attention to the two non-descript girls sitting at the table behind ours. They were pretty average late teens/early twenties-ish types with an obvious affection for cosmetics. Ok, maybe I did pay attention to them. They were dressed like I used to dress in 1985, when I wore electric blue leg warmers with a fluorescent orange skirt and pink top that was pulled into a knot with a big plastic buckle. Well, not JUST like that, but similar. I bet they probably even had Wham!'s Wake Me Up Before You Go Go on their iPods. At the very least I know they had Cameo's Word Up! or Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. But they don't have it on a mix tape like me, complete with partially cut-off radio commercials and station identification.

Anyhoo, we were initially trying to have our own conversation. We were talking about people we work with and their own individual annoying habits. I'm a hand rubber. I sit in my freezing cold office and rub my hands together like a cricket at Nascar speed to try to create enough friction to warm them up, or possibly catch them on fire. We have another who slurps her own spit while talking to people. Blah-blah-blah-blah SHHHLLLLLUUUUUCCKKKK... (swallow) blah-blah-blah-blah. We have pen clickers, eye-twitchers, butt scratchers, etc. While we marveled at everyone's various annoying yet endearing habits, we couldn't help but overhear the 80's girls' conversation. What I think was a conversation. This is what we heard.

Girl 1: And then, like, he was all, like, Oh My Gawd, I'm like totally wasted or whatever!

Girl 2: Oh my gawd!

G1: Yah, and then we, like, you know, like, and stuff, and then, whatever, it was like 6 in the morning, and like we had to go to OUR FAMILY REUNION (????) at, like 8:30.

G2: Ohmigawd, did you, like, I mean, you know, or whatever?

G1: Totally, but we were like, cool, you know.

G2: Oh, totally. Hee hee hee!

At this point I looked at Mike and mouthed "So she slept with a relative???" He shrugged.

G1: Ok, so then my other cousin was like, ohmigawd, you weren't at breakfast or whatever, and i was like, really? what time is it? and it was like 9:45 or whatever.

G2: Nuh-uh...

G1: Totally, and she like saw him in the bed, like with his shirt off!

(She DID sleep with a relative! I knew it...)

G2: Oh My Gawd. No way. What did she do, or whatever?

G1: She just like left or whatever and didn't say anything. I don't think she like, KNEW anything (yes she did!) But it was cool, we were like, you know, just cool that day. And now we're like Facebook friends and stuff!

My neck started smoking, or whatever, and like totally fell off and like rolled across the patio or whatever and like, totally spoiled their f-ed up little lunchtime story.

But seriously, I wish I had counted the number of times they used the phrases like/whatever/totally/oh my gawd/you know. Even when it WAS 1985 and it WAS cool to talk like that, I still didn't, except for once in a classroom skit where I played a Valley Girl!!!

I mean, like, totally! Ohmigawd! Gag me with a spoon.

Just when I think I've heard it all

2008-08-11T16:41:00.000-07:00

The other night I took the kids to the mall in a nearby city. By nearby, I mean 35 minutes away and the only mall "nearby" with a Yankee Candle Company store. I sold the kids on the idea of going to a place filled with breakable glass by telling them they could smell any candle in the store, and they had ones that smell like chocolate cupcakes. I was not lying, they do, and I bought one. Now, repeat after me:

I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes
I will not lick it, it will NOT taste like chocolate cupcakes

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Recently, I might have mentioned before, I have been on a "local" kick. I don't go to chain restaurants, I shop local produce, etc. Matter of fact, the thought of going to Chili's makes me sick. Luckily, I have been able to break the kids of their Chili's habit and forbid our patronage without them going all mutiny on me.

At this "nearby" mall, there is a Red Robin. There is no local restaurant at the mall, or even anything that resembles local. So I figured since I didn't have to buy anything they broke at the candle store, I would allow them this ONE TIME to go to Red Robin. We were immediately seated. Alex asked the host if the Red Robin was in town tonight, and the host looked at him as if he had just spoken in some tongue-popping African dialect. Alex sensed his blank look and clarified, in his most sarcastic tone (I have NO IDEA where he gets it) "You know, Red Robin. The bird on your sign." The host said, "Oh, no, he's not here tonight." (In case you have not been there, they occasionally have someone dress in a Red Robin costume to scare, er, greet the kids).

I looked around the restaurant. Every single table had children at it. Not just children, but raging, running, screaming, jumping, yelling, sassing, anything but sitting-politely-in-their-own-damn-seat children. I was annoyed. Madi ordered the mac and cheese. SHOCKING. I tried to talk her out of it, because she never likes it. It has some strange pukey-tasting cheese sauce on it she always complains about. But she insisted, so I said fine. I convinced Alex to share a burger with me.

Our food came and the mac and cheese was gross, as expected. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it, it is just gross. Our burger came split in two, but on a single plate. I asked the server for another plate and I got the look again. Is it out of the ordinary to ask for a second plate when two people are sharing a meal? Now get outta here and go get my plate, Gothopotamus.

Two bites into the burger, Alex had a sad face. I was torn between asking what was wrong and not wanting to kick the whining bee's nest. I doused my half of the burger in mustard to make it edible. I decided to take the opportunity to illustrate the experience to the kids, maybe make them hop on my bandwagon of banning giant food chains. I said "Hey guys, this place is almost as bad as Chuck E. Cheese. Can we not come here anymore?" (Yes, I have ousted Chuck E. Cheese from our list of approved establishments)

It was my son's response to my request that made my day, and made me love him more, if that's possible.

Mama, can I tell you something?

Me: Sure, what is it, buddy?

But I have to say a word...

Me: Okaaay, what's up?

The food here is crap. I do not want to come back.

I don't think I can say anything more to top that.

Nashville, TN

2008-08-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

I just got back from Nashville. It was my first trip to the Southern United States.

I feel a little bit like I did when I got back from Vancouver, BC. Before I went there I was ready for all Canadians to say "Eh" at the end of every sentence. After all, that's always what I do when I make a fake Canadian accent. I say "aboot" instead of about and "eh" at the end of every sentence. When it was not really like that I was a little disappointed. In Nashville, I expected everyone to have a thick southern drawl and say "y'all" in every sentence. Again, I was surprised by just how many people sounded exactly like me. Although, maybe they were surprised I didn't use the word "Dude" and I don't surf to the supermarket. Who knows.

Anyway, I learned several things that did seem to ring true for at least the Downtown part of Nashville.

Mechanical bulls can be dangerous. I was heavily pressured by all the people in my group to get on the bull. "How can you go back to California knowing you came to Tennessee and DIDN'T ride a mechanical bull?!?" Turns out it doesn't impress many people here. Everyone I have told assumed I was drunk and I wasn't. Although it does make me seem really bad-ass when people ask what happened to my wrist (which is in a splint because I sprained it riding the mechanical bull).

Nashvillians seem fond of getting tattoos on their necks. Is there a prison somewhere close by that paroles all these folks? I think every 10th person I saw walking downtown had at least one tattoo on their neck. Not exaggerating.

You don't touch a cowboy's hat. An acquaintance was wearing one and another guy took it and was basically acting like a douche and they got in a fight. I was in the bathroom and I missed a real cowboy brawl.

I was not aware that cooking terms were regionally interpreted. I thought grilled meant grilled. No grease involved. No pan. Just a cooking utensil of parallel bars on which food is exposed to heat. Do they not have Merriam-Webster in TN? Everywhere we went, grilled = pan fried. Grilled Chicken Medallions with Red Beans and Rice = chicken breast strips coated in seasoned salt and pan fried until crusty and rice topped with canned kidney beans and burnt pan scrapings from some other pan fried piece of meat. UGH! Chicken Marsala was Linguine in a pool of some type of oil topped with a pan fried breast of hard chicken. Are Californians that spoiled with our food quality?!? It was really bad. And the worst part was people were lined up around the block to get into the places serving this crap.

You have not experienced humidity until you've been to the South. I've been to Central America. I've been to Hawaii. Tropical humidity is nothing compared to the humidity we experienced in Tennessee. In the air conditioned hotel, anything made of paper was damp. Metal fixtures had condensation. The rug felt moist under your feet. I've never experienced a hot thundershower until Nashville.

But it wasn't all bad. I saw the most beautiful lightning. Nashville is the cleanest big city I've ever been to. People were power washing the sidewalks daily, and they had people whose job was to walk the streets and sweep up litter. It was just like Disneyland. Only they weren't called Cast Members. And there were no rides. Well I guess that's not true, there was the mechanical bull.

A letter to my cat

2008-07-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

Dear FiFi,

As your leader, I would like to address a few complaints I have about your living arrangement.

1. I DO enjoy you sitting in my lap. I DO NOT enjoy you curling up to get comfortable on my chest and sticking your brown ass hole in my face. It makes me feel quite ill.

2. I appreciate your desire to get in the house at night. I will happily let you in when I call you at any of the regular ports. If you miss out, tough luck. Please don’t scratch my bedroom window with your claws to gain entry. It makes me think of scary clowns with long, glass-cutting nails.

3. I will not rescue you off the roof using a ladder that teeters on the porch. Well, I won’t ever do it again. You got up there, you get down.

4. On behalf of the dog: You are quite a small animal, and you do not need my entire bed to sleep on. I will gladly share with you, but you may not kick me off my own bed. You have no idea the fine line you walk. I could eat you in one bite, you furry little snack.

5. We bought you a scratching post. Use it. The carpet is not a scratching post.

6. I know catnip makes you really peppy, but please don’t show your zest for kitty life by sinking your fangs into my hand.

7. I brush you so you can come indoors. I know you don’t like it, but it is necessary. Ditto for baths.

8. I do enjoy your snuggles, but sprawling out on my back while I’m sleeping is a little much. Especially when you knead my skin with your claws because you are so comfortable.

9. Lastly, we humans have a saying. "Curiosity Killed the Cat." If you sneak up on the male leader and I while we’re gettin’ our naughty on and stick your whiskers near my ass again, you will find out what curiosity does to you.

That is all. Thank you in advance for your attention to these matters.

Your leader.

The Hum Freak Out

2008-07-21T10:44:00.001-07:00

Last month we went to Disneyland again. It has become a frequent affair this past year, we’ve been three times in 7 months. The thing is, each time we go back, one child or the other is tall enough to ride something they couldn’t ride before. So for me, one who doesn’t like to sit out on rides, it’s added incentive to get our tails back there. And I love Disneyland. I love it more than my kids love it. I know that makes me a little crazy to some people, but seriously, I can’t get enough of it.

I think I’ll download their “rider guide” and add the rides to the kids’ measuring stick. That way it will give them something to look forward to also.

In our family, the height restrictions are an obstacle. We’re of the mentality that if there were no height restrictions, our children would go on each and every ride until they puked out of sheer delight. Except the teacups, because then I’d be puking and it would not be for delight. See, we’re thrill seekers. We told Alex we were planning on going skydiving and the first thing he said was “Can I come?!?” It must be in their blood or something. Blame it on genetics.

Two trips ago, I convinced the kids to go on Tower of Terror. Madi finally met the height requirement, and in our house, that means you attempt the ride. Alex got all the way on the ride, got buckled in, then began shrieking like a damn banshee to let him off. His head even spun completely around. Twice. I couldn’t exactly push the issue, or I think everyone on the ride would have come after me with pitchforks and torches. And come to find out, it wasn’t the drop that scared him, it was the simulated lightning in the little waiting area with the TV. I couldn’t believe that was what was holding up the fun. So I basically gave Alex a lesson in peer pressure for 4 months until we went back and he swore he would go on it again. I felt a little bad, but after the episode last time, he HAD to redeem himself. I don’t care if he is only 5, that was embarrassing. Madi went on it every time the rest of us did, and she let Alex know about it.

June’s trip to Disneyland for a certain princess’ birthday is what brings me to write this post. The Hum Freak Out.

Space Mountain is an Alex favorite, but Madi was just under the height requirement in February so she didn’t get to go. In June, she was tall enough and was first in line to get on. Our friend T rode with her, since I get super dizzy and sick on Space Mountain. When they got off the ride, T told me about the Hum Freak Out. Madi had asked him to hold her tight while they rode, and that she’d do the Hum Freak Out. So he was like, “The what?” And Madi repeated “The Hum Freak Out. It’s what I do so I can enjoy the ride like I like it.” How wise of her to figure out how to suppress her fear so she could enjoy herself. During the ride, T put his head down and all he could hear was “Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” The Hum Freak Out.

I’m not sure if I was most impressed by her coping mechanism or by the fact that she gave it a name. I mean she had just turned 4, and it seemed well beyond her years. I know some adults who could benefit from the Hum Freak Out. Maybe she should teach a class or something. Finding Your Own Hum Freak Out – Stress Management Techniques for Everyone. She’ll be a millionaire… Maybe even infomercials…

Get the F%$# OUT of my kitchen!

2008-07-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

Have you seen Hell's Kitchen? I had a Gordon Ramsey moment today when I got home from the doctor's office. I had just been to my "annual checkup" (wink, wink, that's code for having a cold speculum rammed into your nether regions) so I was less than thrilled to begin with. Nothing like making small talk about work while someone has their hand there.

So I pull up to the house and get out of the car. The kids were playing with cups of water and eating M&Ms - a colorful combination. Mike had just finished replacing chunks of grass where neighborhood dogs had killed it off. I said my hellos and walked into the garage.

*PAUSE*

Um, is that my tomato slicer laying on your saw bench?

No answer.

(A little bit louder now) HEY! Is that my tomato slicer on your saw bench?

Mike: Uh, maybe...

I inspected the knife and saw what I had hoped I would not... Dirt and grass.

DID YOU CUT SOD WITH MY TOMATO SLICER?

No answer.

ISAIDDIDYOUCUTSODWITHMYTOMATOSLICER?!?!?!?!?

Mike: But it's serrated and...

UGH! THIS IS A PRECISION INSTRUMENT! IT IS MEANT TO DELICATELY SLICE TOMATOES. IT HAS A FINE SERRATED BLADE LOVINGLY HONED BY GERMAN CRAFTSMEN! IT IS NOT FOR LAWN!!!

Mike: But...

I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!

It's not like I went down to Walmart and picked up some bootsy fly-by-night knife to hack up my stuff. It's a Wusthof Tomato Knife, which retails for $90. The manufacturer says it can "create paper-thin tomato slices, cutting smoothly through the skin without crushing or tearing it." And that it does. Or it did. Until some caveman saw it and said "Ooooh, jaggedy!" and went and cut pieces of yard grass with it!

I think next time he wants sliced tomatoes I might have to mangle them up a bit. The funniest part is my little sous chef Alex threw his father right under the bus and said "I told daddy to get something else. I told him you'd be mad." At least someone has their culinary head screwed on straight.

Waxxident

2008-07-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

I have had a waxing accident. A Waxxident.

I guess I knew I was going to have one when I bought a professional waxing system for home use. I got tired of making appointments and paying for a Russian stranger to apply hot wax and rip my hair off. So why not do it myself, right?

When I was in college, I did the same thing with my acrylic nails. I didn't want to keep paying and wasting my time in the salon where they didn't always do it right, so I bought my own acrylic supplies and my roommates and I had our own dorm room nail shop. The fumes were so strong I think we probably got the whole floor high on fumes. I had a few nail mishaps, but mostly it went well.

And the funny thing is, I'm not a cheap person. I'd gladly pay for someone to do it for me. It's a control thing. See, I am a control freak by nature, and my Virgo personality leads me to believe I can definitely do a better job (than someone who has training and experience?!?) if I just do it myself. Back to the waxxident.

I began with my right eyebrow. I have nice eyebrows. I had them professionally waxed once by the Russian stranger. She told me I had excellent brow lines and she just had to take away the usual strays. Good for me. I can do it better. So I got the wax ready in it's compact heater and I had my applicator sticks and my muslin ripper-strips (the part you smooth over the wax to remove the unwanted hair). I make my first application in three parts - the middle, center, then outer area under the brow. Good. A few hairs to tweeze, but overall a good job. Look:

My confidence was up. I nailed my first try, so why shouldn't it be? On my left brow, I thought since the first one was so easy, I'd add a degree of difficulty and do the hair in one sweep with the wax stick and one rip. Baaaaaaaad idea. See I had waxed the in between the brows with the same strip, and the residual wax left on the strip got stuck to the meaty center portion of my brow. You know, the part you need to make it look like an eyebrow. I had started examining the brow and I didn't notice initially, although now I'm not sure how I didn't. I saw the ripper strip and I thought, "Wow, there's a big chunk of hair on there, where did that come from?" I looked at my brow, looked at the strip. Huh. Could it be from my brow? (like it could magically be from anywhere else) Looked at my brow, looked at the strip. (a little panic) Looked at my brow, saw the missing chunk. *GASP* It IS from my brow! Holy crapoly, what the shit am I gonna do with a hunk of brow missing? I brifely contemplated trying to re-attach them, since the follicles were intact. You know, like when you lose a tooth with the root intact and keep it in milk or something. I knew it wasn't possible, but it was worth the millisecond I spent on it.

I cleaned up the leftover wax that did not rip off, and looked at my brows in the mirror. I felt like it was 1989, and all the cool people (like Vanilla Ice) were shaving lines in their brows, only I was the dork who shaved a line in the beginning instead of the end of the brow. I guess I'll just have to stop, collaborate and listen (Ice is back with my brand new invention...) until it grows back. That and buy some brow powder to fill it in.

So THAT'S where they go...

2008-06-16T17:37:00.000-07:00

Back in April, we took the kids to Cancun for a week. It was an awesome vacation, and my tan is still going strong. But this is not what I write about today.

At Christmas, our friend K bought the kids a butterfly habitat. It came with a post card you mail in and get free caterpillars that turn into Painted Lady Butterflies. K was nice enough to approve the gift prior to purchase, seeing as how I am super creeped-out by moths/butterflies. But who am I to deprive my children of the experience of growing butterflies and witnessing the cycle of life? So I approved the gift, and eagerly sent away for the caterpillars (hey, 6 months IS eager when they scare you). We got the caterpillars last week. They came in a jar and looked sort of freeze-dried. The jar had some tan goop in the bottom. I read the booklet to the kids that talked about what would happen to them, and how they would eventually spin a cocoon and transform into butterflies.

They slowly emerged from their frozen state and gobbled the tan goo. After two days, they had almost tripled in size! It was pretty cool after I got over the initial shock of having a cup of huge furry worms on my kitchen counter (gag). On Friday, Alex went up to Mike and asked if he could check out the "calapitters." They went over to the counter, and Mike grabbed the cup. Alex said "Daddy, I wanna see if the calapitters went to Cancun yet." I guess I didn't explain cocoon very well. I think he thought they were going to go chill at the hotel, swim in the pool and drink frosty beverages.

A good laugh

2008-05-12T09:09:00.000-07:00

Hey, I thought I'd revive the blog to tell you all some great news.

I regularly read a blog by a brilliant writer named Danny Evans. It's called Dad Gone Mad, and it is quite possibly the best writing I have seen ever. He writes about things I identify with, and has an extraordinary sense of humor - about himself, his surroundings, his fellow human beings. He is not just funny, but one of those people who really seem to have a grip on how things/people work. It's one of those blogs you read and when you are done you feel super satisfied. Kinda like after Thanksgiving dinner, only without the dishes or turkey coma...

Anyway, Danny just anounced that he finally signed a book deal. I cannot wait to pick up a copy. I don't know what it will be called, but I can guarantee you it will make for excellent reading. Check out his blog if you get a chance, and look up the archives. I stumbled upon it by accident almost two years ago, and I am so glad I did.

I love a good pic-a-nic basket, but I’m no Yogi…

2008-03-25T17:49:00.000-07:00

Mike got me started on a workout program called P90X. It’s all over the infomercials, with the annoying guy (Tony) trying to motivate you using his own lean, muscular, sweaty physique. You too can be fit as a fiddle in as little as 3 months with his system. 3 months and at the very least 2 hours a day to devote to his program. Now don’t get me wrong, if you have the time, it kicks butt, but who has 2 hours every day just to work out? Why do you think we are fat to begin with?!? We work long hours, eat in the car, and commute an hour each way. By the time we get home, we are drained. But I am trying to get in the state of mind that it MUST be my routine...

Anyway, I started this workout program last week. Here is my “diary.”

Day 1 – Chest and Back (or chest and arms... I dunno)
Look at workout chart for day. Lots of fancy sounding stuff. Why are there two lines for each one? Anyway, some pushups, pull-ups, etc. Use the universal gym to simulate pull-ups since you can’t do any real ones. Tony says to set a goal and stick to it. I’ll do 15 pushups to start since I haven’t done them in like 12 years. Ok, now or never, get started.

Huh, “press” also means pushup (military press, incline press, etc). Boy these exercises have fancy names. Keep imaginary “promise” to Tony to do 15… each time.

Figured out what line two is for – once you complete round 1, you get to go back and do all the exercises AGAIN, but in a different order, to keep it lively!

WHY IS THIS ONE HOUR?!?!? Holy shit, this sucks. Tony, you suck.

Day 2 – Plyometrics (AKA “Jump Training”)
Can’t lift my arms from Day 1. Man I hope I don’t need them for this. Mike tells me this is the hardest one. It reminds me of basketball practice in high school. I like it.

Tony is annoying, but not as bad as the Tae Bo guy. He is actually a little funny. Sometimes.

Day 3 – Shoulders & Arms
Still can’t lift my arms from Day 1. Butt hurts from Plyo. Also the muscles right above my knees hurt. Not my quads, but the area just above the kneecap. Take a break and resume day 3 tomorrow.

Two days later – Ok, my arms work again. I understand the repeat process, I won’t overdo it the first round. 15 reps for each exercise, 10 pound weights in each hand. Not bad for the first time. I feel good. I’m at peace with Tony’s little quirks and find his expressions witty. I can see the muscles in my arms. Hey, 3 months can’t be that bad…

Day 4 – Yoga
Mike says “Hey, you like this kind of stuff. It’s relaxing. You’ll love yoga.” I am a little leery and put it off for three days.

Ok, time to do yoga. Just relax, those old ladies do it in the park all the time. How bad can it be?

Got my yoga mat, kids are sleeping, I’ll do a quick session then eat dinner. It’s 2130. Mike begrudgingly agrees to do yoga with me.

Stretching, yaaaaaaaahhhh. I do like yoga. I notice the video timer says 1:34:00. I do NOT like that.

Tony is using words I don’t understand, I think it has to do with the sun or something. He says “Ok, bend over gently and touch the floor. Deep breaths. Relax. Focus. Now plank! You can hop through or walk back. (WHAT? Hop where? Oh… ok, make your body into a plank… got it) Go into Upward Dog. Plank! Now go into downward dog. DON’T MOVE YOUR FEET! (Crap, I was moving my feet…) Now, runner’s pose!”

Pose? What is this, a Madonna video? Am I Vogue-ing? (Pause to close curtains so neighbors don’t think I’m doing some ancient Pagan ritual or something) Resume vogue-ing.

After repeating my attempts at runner’s pose three times and banging my toe on two of them, I sit down. I watch until they get to warrior’s pose. I skip all the mumbo jumbo and stand in the pose. I have quickly lost interest. This is no parts relaxing. My toe hurts and I am sweating after 5 minutes of yoga. I question the techniques of the old ladies in the park, and Mike points out they do Tai Chi, not yoga. Tai Chi is not part of P90X. Today I hate Tony. I hate yoga. I sit for a few minutes to regain my composure. This is not relaxing.

I resume with crescent pose, which quickly turns into something else that basically translates to “bend over and jump up your own ass.” I tip over attempting the pose and remember why I closed the curtains. Thank goodness the neighbors can’t see this. I attempt the pose again and get a cramp. I sit on the couch and watch Mike struggle.

They end the “movement poses” and go to balance poses. This should be easier. First balance pose is called tree. Bend right knee, place right foot on inside of left thigh, do something with your arms. Great, but my foot keeps slipping off my leg and I’ve got the sway of a .34 deuce. I forget what pose 2 was called, but it was some other shit I couldn’t do. I can’t even walk a straight line in tennis shoes, why would I think I could do this? I leave the room.

I return to find Mike doing “crane.” It reminds me of how my mom taught me to do handstands when I was a kid. You put your knees up on your elbows. Mike bangs his head on the floor. I snicker, then ask if he is ok (in that order). He says yes and trys it again. I am tempted to try, because I could do it when I was 10. I remember that was 20 years ago and decide not to risk it. I go get the leftover chicken tenders from the kids dinner. It’s 2230 now.

I sit on the couch with my chicken and watch Mike finish the yoga. I taunt Tony with my chicken as he tells me I’m “doing good.” Yeeeeesssss, very good. I tipped over, got cramps, and hurt my toe. I am now doing great with my chicken, thankyouverymuch.

Mike finally finished and we stopped complaining about it at 2330.

Tomorrow is Legs and Back. Ah, back to stuff I can tolerate.

So for future reference, the only time I want to hear about yoga is if you ask “what yoga-nna do today?” Otherwise, Tony, you can skip right to the one after crescent pose…

Pour some sugar on me

2007-11-27T21:05:00.000-08:00

Usually, when we get in the car to go somewhere, the back seat is a free-for-all of insults. Who is a DORK, who is a poopy sniffer poop, etc, etc. So tonight, after I got home from work, we hopped in the car and decided to go to dinner. The kids were really tired, because Mike had them "working out" in the garage. He was doing lunges with weights, and every time he did an exercise, they did it too. Combine that with the races they were having (dump truck vs. dolly stroller) and you wind up with two beat bobos.

In the car on the way to dinner, it was unusually quiet. At one point I even wondered if we had mistakenly forgotten them at home. I mean it is NEVER that quiet in the car, not even when I'm riding alone. I sing. And talk to myself. So we got to dinner, and they were also very well-behaved there.

What children did Mike substitute while I was at work? Did he threaten great bodily injury to their toys if they acted up? (Although that has not ever worked in the past...) They ate, they only requested to visit the toilet once, and they didn't argue over crayons or menus or sodas.

On our way back from the bathroom, Alex came running out, around the corner, and to the table. I called him back, asked him to start over, and walk to the table, since a restaurant is not a place to run. He did, with a funny little face and a weird stomp, like he hadn't actually gone to the bathroom in time. Apparently we had an audience.

As we were finishing dinner, Alex told me the man at the table behind us winked at him. I told Alex that was nice. Alex said "Yah. But he's a stranger, so I didn't wink back. But he looks like a pretty nice guy." I told Alex it was good of him to think like that, and that he'd always be safe if he looked out for himself. A few more minutes went by, and the winking guy got up. He came to our table and told us what wonderful children we had, and how well behaved they were, and polite, etc. He said we were blessed to have such great kids. So Mike and I said thanks, and that we work really hard to make sure they are that way. The kids were all smiles because they like getting compliments, and we took the time to point out how when they behave, nice things happen to them. Well, that is where they got a little overboard. For the rest of the dinner and trip home, they were so syrupy-sweet to each other I wanted to puke!

Alex: Oh Madi, you are so pretty. I'm going to give you a check mark because you are so cute and pretty when you sleep. I love you sissy.

Madi: A check mark?!? Ooooh, thank you brother! You are the sweetest brother in the whole wide world!

Alex: Yah, you are pretty, so you'll get a check for that, plus you carried my food so you get another check for that. For being nice.

Madi: TWO checks?!?! Oh Alex! And you're handsome! Thank you, thank you!

(The check marks come from a system we devised to give them allowance for completing household chores, like helping with pets, picking up toys, putting their clothes in the hamper, etc. They can't give themselves check marks, but it was cute for a minute...)

So bottom line is, it felt pretty good to see the rewards of all the hounding we do on them to say please and thank you and to walk, not run, and say excuse me, and not talk to strangers. Someone else noticed our work. It's like a check mark for grown ups.

First job

2007-11-18T11:54:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, Madi had her first modeling job. It went really well. She had originally been booked for 2 shoots, and because they liked her so much and she was so "cooperative" (to use their words) they ended up using her for 6 shoots. On the last one they ran out of light, so we had to stop. She had a great time, and has had several other opportunites since.

The reason I write about this is because something really funny happened on the set. As I said, first job, I didn't know what to expect. We got a set of "rules" from her manager, and a bunch of information about what to bring (good attitude, something to keep your child busy, a non-mouth-staining snack, etc), what not to bring (snotty sick child, siblings, friends, relatives, desire to butt-in or provide suggestions for the shoot, noisy toys, etc), and suggestions for how to walk the fine line of being helpful vs. being annoying to everyone on set. You can imagine I was pretty nervous. I wasn't worried about Madi, she's an angel. She is so sweet and loves to interact with people. People always like her. I was worried about me. I read and re-read all the "rules" because I didn't want to do anything deemed unacceptable by the modeling world at-large that would jeopardize my baby's chances of repeat jobs. After all, this is going to pay for her college education. (***Disclaimer*** She will not become a "child-star" who will need multiple, monthly stints in rehab at age 12. If she makes it and likes it, great. But I am certainly not looking for stardom for her. Alex, on the other hand, wanted no part of any of it. He doesn't have the patience. He just wants to play soccer and baseball and be a boy.)

That being said, since we arrived early, we sat in the car and waited. Madi fell asleep on the drive to the set, so I let her rest. I found a nice parking spot right next to the trailer we were supposed to check in at. The shoot was in SF, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a parking place. They had this trailer sitting on a little open pad of space right off the Embarcadero. Since the car was right next to it, I let Madi rest, and walked a few steps over to the trailer. I told them we were there and that Madi was sleeping. They said ok, let her sleep until it is time for her shoot. I sat back in the car and killed another half hour. Madi woke up and we walked over to the Starbucks to go potty before the shoot. It was 2 blocks over. We got in and were standing in line for the bathroom. In front of us was this little nook with a small couch, two tables and a plush chair. The chair had puke ALL OVER IT. Um... has nobody else noticed this? There was someone sitting on the couch, typing away, not seeming to care that something had apparently exploded a mere two feet from from his head. It did not smell good. We waited. And waited. Finally the door opened and the guy who had been in the bathroom FOREVER came out. Pukey Pukerson himself. His shirt was covered in vomit, and his pants were wet. Madi had the look Butt-Head used to get when he saw something gross. We went in anyway, but I will not describe the scene. I put down 3 ass-gaskets and told her not to touch anything. Madi finished her business and we left. We touched nothing, not even the sink. I was afraid Pukey might have touched it.

We walked back to the trailer and climbed the stairs. I guess first I should clarify trailer. Not the big trailers you see on movie sets. This trailer said "Serving the movie industry for X number of years" It hooked to a standard trailer hitch on a truck. It looked like something you'd take camping. Inside there was the little kitchen area, table and bench, and a back room that they used for wardrobe changes. I quickly understood that the shoot would not actually be taking place inside the trailer. So we went inside and I sat down on the "couch". The stylist put Madi in this tall directors chair and started on her hair. I had the binder I keep all the "rules" and forms and paperwork in. The mandatory on-set teacher came and greeted us. He was super nice. All was going well so far. There were two seats at the front of the trailer where the person in charge was sitting, along with another guy whose function I didn't know. Then the stylist right behind them and Madi in the chair, and the teacher and I on the couch. Next to us was the table and bench, where there were 3 Japanese girls (the shoot was for a Japanese clothing Co.) who were doing wardrobe and another lady we'd seen at audition, who might have been casting, I'm not sure. Anyway, there were about 10 people in this little trailer.

The teacher asked me for Madi's work permit, so he could sign it, as well as her voucher for payment. I picked up the binder, which got hung up on the clip of my pocket knife. I had clipped it to my purse for some reason I can't remember now. I pulled the binder, and at the same time realized what it was stuck on. Before I could make my brain tell my hand to stop pulling, the knife cut loose and flew out of my purse. Now if it were a regular knife, no biggie. But this one has spring assist, so if you hit the lever, it flicks open. Mind you, it is a small knife, about a two inch blade. So it flies out of my purse, flicks open, and flips end over end until it sticks into the floor at the bottom of the directors chair where Madi was sitting, about 3 inches from the teacher's foot.

Everything went quiet. Everyone was looking at me. Damn it! I think this might qualify under things NOT to do at a shoot. Maybe they should add it to the list for people like me who are usually adequately armed. "Don't throw knives at the crew." Anyway, everyone was staring at me. I knew I had to say something, but not freak out. So I said "Well, I bet that's the weirdest thing that's happened to you guys today!" I pulled my knife from the floor, closed it up, and put it in my purse. (Everyone still staring... should we just leave?) So I was waiting for someone to shout "You'll never work in this town again!" but instead the teacher said "Um, we feel pretty safe here. We don't normally need knives." He chuckled. I said "Well, that was uncomfortable. I promise I won't try to stab anyone else. Here's that work permit." All at once, as if someone pressed play, everyone went back to what they had been doing before my outburst.

Overall, the shoot went SO well. Madi picked up the slack and by the end of the day, we were remembered as "the cute little girl we want back because she is so easy to work with and so adorable" instead of "the cute little girl with the crazy knife-throwing mom who we NEVER want back in our trailer."

Smarty pants

2007-11-18T11:36:00.000-08:00

I have always known my children would be jokesters. Between Mike and I, there was really no way we would ever have quiet, reserved, shy children. They run amok, make jokes, and talk to everyone they meet.

This morning I asked Alex if he knew where the phone was, and he said, "Maybe in Tahiti. It has a timeshare there." WHAT?!? He got this cute little smirk on his face and said "That's what Lightning (McQueen) said about his agent."

The other day I asked how he slept, and he said, "laying down." DOH!

Look for him one day at a comedy club near you.

Odd dog

2007-11-02T22:03:00.001-07:00

Halloween was fun this year. The kids went as Peter Pan and Tinkerbelle. They like to coordinate their outfits. Now that they are big enough to decide together, it is cute to watch them come to an agreement about what to be. Originally, Alex had wanted to be one of the jumping cards from Alice in Wonderland. You know, the ones who paint the roses red for the Queen of Hearts? So I made his costume. It turned out really cute. Then Madi wanted to be Alice. But we couldn't find an Alice costume. So while looking for the Alice costume, we found the Peter costume and Madi got to tell Alex how handsome he looked all night.

We only went part way around the block, and then we headed back. The kids get tired after 10 houses or so, and then it just becomes more about being greedy for candy than the fun of dressing up and walking around looking at decorations. This one house Alex went up to the door, rang the bell. The guy came to the door, and the kids yelled Trick or Treat. The guy brought the bowl of candy, and through the window, Alex caught sight of his dog. Alex lost all interest in the candy and wanted to know about the dog. Could he pet it, what was its name, did it do tricks, etc. The guy let the kids pet his dog, and as the line grew long for candy, I called the kids back. Alex turned to the guy and said "Thank you! Happy Halloween! You have a weird looking dog, I thought you should know that." The guy laughed. He did have a weird looking dog. It looked like greyhound or whippett and something. Real skinny and tall with floppy ears.

I tried to get Alex to say sorry for insulting the dog, but instead he said "Sorry I called him weird looking... (turns to walk away, but then turns back around) but he does really look weird, you know."

I just waved and off we went. It was the funniest thing I heard all night!

Another funny thing was when we handed out candy, I had decorated the front entry with a hanging severed head, black light, strobe light, candles, a bunch of spooky stuff. We left the door open, and people were expecting something to jump at them. I would run by the door in a ghost getup now and then. Scary sounds played on the CD player. Parents were sending their kids up alone because they were scared to come up (we watched from the window). So this one kid was really apprehensive, and as he came up, expecting something to get him, Madi came out in her Tinkerbelle outfit and said "Want some candy?" It was so funny to see Tink offereing candy beside a severed head, with chains clanking and glass breaking in the background.

Next year we're thinking of doing a haunted house. Lot of work though... Hope nothing like this happens.

Jardinero

2007-11-02T21:33:00.000-07:00

I need to stop volunteering. Team mom, etc, etc. I got the bright idea after seeing one of our Home Owners Association "newsletters" that it could be improved. I had a ton of bright ideas, and as it turns out, they were looking for someone to take over doing the newsletter. Great! I'll volunteer... again.

So Mike and I went to the HOA meeting, me armed with my ideas for the newsletter, and Mike with an idea to turn a patch of unused fenced area in our neighborhood into a dog park. So the meeting consisted of like 8 people. The board members, and 3 people from the neighborhood. Whoo-hoo! Party! Big turnout.

The president started talking about the need for someone to do the newsletter, and I said I actually had some good ideas I wanted to propose, and I'd be willing to volunteer to do the newsletter. That was met with cheers from the Pres and VP. So I said "maybe I don't want to do it..." They managed to convince me that it would be great, and they liked my ideas. Ok... fine, I'll give it a shot. (Already it has been difficult, the pres is not the easiest person to deal with)

Next, it was Mike's turn. Turns out the school that this little fenced area is attached to just built a new playing field and wants the HOA to get the word out to the members not to let their dogs come onto the property. Enter Mike's idea for the dog park... He presents, that given this new information, it would be beneficial to all involved parties to build the park. It would keep the school from getting pooped on, the neighbors (who all seem to have dogs) would get a nice park, and the HOA could complete the beautification project for the year. So the Pres asks Mike what his ideas were for the park, and said she'd like him to lead the effort to spruce up the area. Then she said, very slowly and deliberately, "Can you look at the area and measure it and come up with some landscaping ideas? Are you in that line of work?"

That beee-yotch just asked him if he was a gardener. Seriously, is that all a brown boy can do? We sat thru her crap about neighborhood safety, and when Mike mentioned not leaving valuables in your car, she didn't ask if he was in THAT line of work. So why in the heck would she ask if he was a gardener? I tell ya, she's the type to call the police and say "I don't mean to sound racist but these people don't belong in our neighborhood" whenever she sees anyone of color on her block.

I can't believe I still agreed to do the stupid newsletter. Maybe I'll sell ads to all the local gardeners. Or maybe I'll write her newsletter in Spanish. Or maybe I'll get her a bunch of subscriptions to Latino Magazines. And a Piolin bumper sticker. HA! Mess with my family...

Poop

2007-10-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

I realized that there had been no October post... I know, I'm slippin. And there has been so much funny stuff to write about, but just no time. It's been a little crazy around here.

One of the new things in my house is a fascination with poop. Both kids, everything poop. Even the little girl, who loves princesses and dress up, is obsessed with poop. Poop, pooping, pretend poop, you name it. Here's a sampling of how our conversations are going nowadays...

Madi: Hey mama, what are we having for dinner? Poop sandwiches?
Me: Oh yah, big old stinky poop sandwiches. With flies.
Madi: Um... really?
Me: If that's what you want, I can probably round some up.
Madi: I'll just have whatever you were going to fix. Not poop.

Alex: You're a poo-poo head! Hahaha, poo-poo head!
Madi: No, you're a poo-poo head!
Alex: Well you're a poopy poopy nut!
Madi: I AM NOT A POOPY POOPY NUT! Mama! He called me a poopy poopy nut!
Mama: Well, what does Alex know anyway?
Madi: He doesn't know diddley squat! HAHAHAHA!
Alex: You're a poopy doogle poo!
Madi: Mama! He called me...
Mama: (interrupting) NO MORE POOP TALK! That's enough!

Madi: (at the store) Mama, I pooped in my pants.
Mama: WHAT?!? (digging in the pants to check) No you didn't. Why would you say that?
Madi: Because it's funny. You thought I pooped!

(Driving down the freeway)
Alex: Mama, what's that smell?
Mama: I dunno, hon, it's coming from outside. Stinks, eh?
Alex: Well... (long pause) I think it's dog poop. I think someone dropped dog poop on the freeway and you ran it over. Now it is stuck in your tires. You're going to have to pull over and hose it off. You should pull over now. Yah, it's dog poop.
Mama: I think my tires are fine. It will pass.
Alex: Too bad it's not poop. That would be funny.

Alex: When will Fiona (the cat) poop? I want to clean it up.
Mama: ??? (totally speechless, walks away)

Anyway, from poop central, I'm out... like a brown trout... HA!

Hurry Up

2007-09-20T22:39:00.000-07:00

I was reading one of my favorite blogs tonight and there was a post about how kids grow up too fast.

It's funny that everyone says it so much. You know, it's one of those phrases that you insert when you have nothing better to say, like "Its for the best" or "everything happens for a reason." "They grow up so fast." Yes, they do. Why do people keep reminding me of that, like I don't know?

My little monkey just missed the age cutoff for school this year. I am certainly not ready for that. My little princess is in love and ready to move away to Neverland, as soon as Peter flies in to get her. The nightly routine is get jammied up, brush teeth, get in bed, ask "When will Peter come so I can get married and live happily ever after like you and Daddy?" Big kudos to us for showing her what Happily Ever After looks like!

The other day I was reading through all my posts. I started back at 2004, the beginning of my blog. I read all the stories. Can you believe it's been 3 years since we got Nitro and he ate Madi's jammies? Or when Alex reached under Nitro to grab and yank his "collar"? Oh how I laughed. And cried. Where has the time gone? I am always in such a rush to get here or there, or go do errands, or spend some time sitting in traffic going to work. I realized I really need to take it down a couple notches.

Everyone is already well aware of our family propensity for lateness. Its pretty standard to tell us to be somewhere 15 minutes before we actually have to be there. Not because we're inconsiderate or we relish tardiness, we are just in a constant state of Hurry Up, no matter how much we prepare for something. Get out of the car. Hurry Up. Come on inside the house. Hurry Up. Eat your dinner. Hurry Up. I don't want to sit here all night. I'm gonna be late for work, will you get your shoes please? Hurry Up. Is like we're on a fuse or something, waiting to blow if we don't Hurry Up.

Well what if we stopped Hurrying Up? That's exactly what I'm going to do. No more Hurry Up and get in bed. Hurry Up and clean up your toys. Hurry Up and grow up and move away so I can miss you so much and beg you to Hurry Up and come visit. No more.

So maybe you give us a 30 minute leeway from now on, because I'm done Hurrying Up.

Green, the new color of the world

2007-09-17T12:25:00.000-07:00

Seems like everything you hear nowadays is about how green people are, or how green businesses are, or how to live a "green" life. I know it's all about energy consumption and saving the earth's resources. In fact, we are becoming a little greener every day. Eliminating junk mail, paperless billing, I even got rid of my SUV... for an 8cyl sports car... oh details. Anyway, I saw something funny the other day while on my way home from work.

I was sitting in 5 o'clock traffic as usual. Hurry up, slam the brakes, hurry up, slam the brakes. I noticed this car in the next lane to the right of me. It was a white Prius with stickers covering damn near the entire car promoting Global Greenery. It had permanent stickers affixed to the car that said "Certified Green Vehicle" and a company name on it. I forget now which company it was for. Save the Planet stickers, you name it. The driver had his window down. I was noticing that he didn't have the typical "look" a normal driver of this type of mobile would have. Our neighbor drives one. He's got the shaggy hair, sort of unkempt-ish, his kids never wear shoes, he wears Birkenstocks. You know, the stereotypical Prius driver. I know not all of them are like that, but you know what I mean. Anyway, this guy didn't look that way at all. He was overweight, balding, wearing business attire. More like he'd drive a Lexus, or a nice Toyota or something. So as I was taking it in for a few seconds, I saw him raise a cigarrette to his mouth, take a long drag, and blow his secondhand smoke out the window. ?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?! Are you kidding me! This guys car is the poster vehicle for saving the planet and he's spewing nasty smoke everywhere? I started laughing out loud. I watched him for a while more, making some more of my own judgements about him and his car, and how if he just slipped on a pair of Birks and didn't comb his hair maybe he'd quit smoking LOL.

So next, to my sheer amazement, he took his last puff and flicked the butt out the window! I think I actually yelled HEY! from my car and pointed at him. He kept on driving, oblivious to his polluting ways. It was sort of funny, you know, taking all that time to buy a Prius, deck it out with environmental stickers, go to great lengths to make sure everyone knows you are doing your part, then tear it all down with one hypocritical cigarrette.

I'm not sure why I didn't call the company and rat him out, I wish I remembered the name of it, because I'm in the kind of mood today that I would do it. In person.

Jeremiah

2007-09-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

Alex had his first soccer practice on Wednesday. There were a total of 5 kids there (BIIIIIG turnout...). They were attempting to do drills, led by their "coach." I shouldn't talk, she's probably doing fine for being a mom of one of the kids with no real training... but it is just kind of laughable, because she tries to be all officious even though she is obviously in over her head.

So halfway through, she gives the kids a water break. Dammit! I forgot the water bottle! I knew I would. But it's ok, because some other kids did too, and went around the snack bar for the fountain to get a drink. Now I should probably give you a diagram of how it looks...

The rectangle is the snack bar, the 3 circles are tables, and the other thing is the "water fountain." I was sitting at the bottom right of the three tables, and I couldn't see the fountain for the snack bar, even though it was 15 yards away. So I waited, and the coach was asking the kids to come on. And asking them to come on, and asking. Then she made sort of a funny face, and I noticed that my child was in the general direction of her face. So I got up and started over there to see what was going on. As I rounded the corner, I saw Alex was peeing right in front of two other boys, directly in front of the water spigot. First of all, there was no fountain to speak of, it was a spigot you attach a hose to. Better than nothing, but I wish I had known that first...
So to my amazement, with the start of his stream, Alex broke into verse, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog! Was a good friend of mine!..." shake shake shake...

I stood there for a minute stuck on stupid. I mean, what do you say to a 4 year old who pees in front of his team while singing 70s rock? I just wasn't sure what to do. So I got ahold of myself, fought back laughter, and marched the rest of the way over. The coach said, "Well, I guess boys will be boys..." My, she is so much more understanding than me. Or maybe she just was glad it wasn't her kid. I talked to Alex and pointed out the large porta-potties he could use in the future. I almost complimented his choice of pee song, but I didn't.

I wonder now what people said about us. Not that I care, but I just wonder. Oh well, at least he's not the injury magnet. There's one boy who is always getting hurt. That time he got tagged in the nuts point blank with a ball. He crumbled into a screaming heap. Before the season started, at the one clinic we attended, he bonked heads with Alex and got all bloody. Alex got a little black eye. It really is funny watching these boys.

We're baaaaaaaaa-aaaaack!

2007-09-12T07:47:00.000-07:00

Hey!

After a long, much-needed vacation, we are back. I'll post pictures soon, haven't downloaded them yet. Our first stop was Maui, HI. We dove with the sharks at the Maui Ocean Center and again in the crystal blue open waters of the Pacific. I was dragged onstage and made to hula for my birthday. The dancer I was paired with was having me do a lot of hopping, and I had to caution him on an impending wardrobe malfunction if he kept it up.

We also drove the infamous Road to Hana. Here's a good story... Everyone told us NOT to drive the road at night because it is mostly one lane width (only slightly more in some spots) and can be very dangerous. So we decided not to be "whizzers" (the local word for speedy day trippers) and get a place for the night. Momma and I checked out a bunch of places online, and came up with this one that looked beautiful, had glowing reviews from guests, and a spectacular view of the pacific off a high cliff. Sold. So we took our time getting there, enough time that I needed 2 doses of Triptone (motion sickness). Surprisingly, there was no vomit unleashed by any of us, contrary to what we expected. We saw beautiful waterfalls, exotic rainforest, seriously, the most beautiful place I've seen yet. So we finally got there at about quarter to 5. It gets dark at 7-ish in Maui, since they don't observe daylight savings time. (Oh yah, that time change threw me for a loop... first day I woke up at 0430) We found our cottage we had rented for the night (a small 3 bedroom house). It was cute, nicely decorated, quite impressive at first glance. We settled in, and I got dinner started. I heard a scream from the kids' bedroom. It was Madi, she had an ant on her. Whatever. We ate dinner and decided to watch Casino Royale. Another scream from the bedroom. Both of them. I went in to look, and they were screaming about ants again. I looked around and there were these giant red ants EVERYWHERE. I am not exaggerating. It looked like the carpet was crawling. At first I kind of dismissed it, I mean it's a rainforest afterall, there's gonna be bugs. I went to check in our room, same thing. They started coming out in the living room, everywhere you went, huge red ants. If you held still or sat down, they'd get all over you. That was enough to make us want to consider leaving, or at least sleeping in the car. So I asked the kids to go get their stuff from the room, and I hear Alex yell, "Madi has a big white bug on her leg!" So I go look, and Madi was paralysed with fear. There was what appeared to be an albino cockroach on her leg. We flicked it off and began stomping at it. Crunch crunch crunch. In the kitchen there were more of the non-albino variety. We made like bananas and split. As soon as we got in the car, the monsoon started. I'm talking rain so hard the highest wiper setting wasn't cutting it. So we sat for a minute, considering what to do. Do we drive the road at night like everyone told us not to, or do we sleep in the car in the driveway of the creepy house (as the kids so rightly named it). We decided to risk it. If nothing else it would be a good adventure. And hopefully we'd live. So at 9pm-ish I started the drive. The rain was very heavy, and there were not may cars on the road. In our logic, we figured that might work in our favor, because most good tourists listen to advice of locals and stay off the roads. In all we passed 5 cars on the road, all going up the hill to Hana. We were the only ones coming down. We made the drive in about 2 and a half hours down the windy mountain. At one point, on one of the 50 something bridges, the water was so high that when I drove through it, it sent a wave of water completely over our car. I couldn't see the water because it was so dark. Looking back, it was pretty chancey to drive it. But we made it ok, and I drove safely. At the bottom, I was so tired from the long day I handed over the wheel to my dad for the rest of the 45 minute drive to our non-buggy hotel. I would totally go back and stay longer, but not at the creepy house.

After we got home, we rested for 2 days then hopped a plane to Disneyland. That was a blast also. Lots of fun memories. I learned that I use the word "shit" to much. We were riding Pirates and for the first time in probably over 40 lifetime rides, we all got soaked. My mouth filled with Pirate water. I don't recommend riding with your mouth open. Anyway, Madi was sitting on the edge and took quite a helping of water. She sat quiet for a few seconds, and at just the right time said loudly, "Oh Shit. I'm all wet!" I didn't really know what to say. I wasn't sure I heard her right, so I asked what she said and she obligingly repeated it for me. Everyone in the boat (at least the family members) were looking right at me, knowing exactly where to place blame. So I asked her not to use that word, but use something like darn instead... Oh darn, I'm all wet. She didn't like darn, and instead opted for a mime-action substitute where she used no words at all, just an incredulous gesture. At least mine is correctable. The other funny thing she did is in her genes. She pulled her pants down, showed my mom her butt, and spanked herself a couple times, while laughing hysterically. Right in the middle of Disneyland. That is a genetic predisposition implanted by her father, who took great pleasure in mooning our roommates from the balcony of our house years ago and slapping his booty for the whole neighborhood to see. That is not correctable. Shit is correctable.

Anyway, stay tuned for pictures.

Miss Fiona

2007-08-24T07:53:00.000-07:00

Finally, after 8 weeks, I have pics of the kitten!

She's 4 months old, playful, and so cute. She LOVES attacking the kids, especially Madi, because she screams the loudest. Her favorite toy is a toss up between a little catnip mouse and Nitro's tail. The two of them playing together is the cutest thing! They roll and play.

Here's Nitro and Fiona sharing his bed. They didn't get along the first few days, what with all the hissing and Nitro licking his chops every two seconds. But after a few days, they became best buds. Now they run and chase each other. I don't think I have seen anything quite as funny as a giant Police dog running from a 12 week old kitten. I'll have to video it one day and post it here.

So these will have to tide you all over for a few weeks while we vacation. Be back after that with some wild stories I'm sure.

The itsy bitsy spiiiider crawled... into a wasps nest on my porch!

2007-08-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

You all remember not too long ago I posted about the unfortunate incident I had with a wasp that had managed to crawl up my pants? Well, I have had myself another run-in with said wasp.
In our last house, we had paper wasps. Those are the kind that make nests that look like exposed honeycomb. Those were bothersome, because there were a lot of them and they were right outside our back door under the eaves. So we'd (and by "we" I mean Mike) spray the nest with wasp killer and run like hell. Then later or the next day we'd go knock it down and be wasp free.

In our new house, we have a mud dauber wasp (see illustration). It looks VERY scary. It builds a home that looks like a large mud cocoon. The first time I realized the thing was living with us was when I would come and go from the front door, it always seemed to be around. Then I opened the little peek window in the door (you know, the old school style where there's a tiny door in your door so you can see who's outside) and heard this buzzing. I closed it quickly. I slowly opened in again, peeking in to see what the noise was. The buzzing continued. I closed it and went about my business, not in the mood to find out what it was (AKA Mike wasn't home). Next time I went in from outside, the damn thing flew out the door-in-my-door and scared the bejesus out of me. So we (again, Mike) cleared it out and the wasp "went away." I didn't care where, just not in my door-in-my-door again.

Two days ago, I was walking up to the front and I saw a very familiar creature hovering around my Japanese Maple. I ran to the door-in-my-door and checked, but there was no nest. Ok, maybe it's just visiting because my plants are oh-so-nice. Then I saw it. An even bigger mud cocoon in the eaves above the door. Damn! So I let Mike know he had some exterminating to do. I took my post in the kitchen where I could observe at a safe distance behind the closed windows. I did note that the neighbor kids were having a birthday party outside... hope they run fast.

Mike walked through the house with a hockey stick. I was a bit perplexed, because this part is not usually step 1. Usually the spray and run comes first. Turns out, since the cocoon didn't have an obvious entry point, we (he) couldn't spray it. He'd have to whack it down. Boy, I really hope those kids can run fast...

So a few minutes went by, which I assume were job assessment, follwed by a scrape-scrape-thump. He didn't go running... Hmmm. Then he opened the front door. I was less than pleased, as I'm sure you can imagine. The thought of a wasp in my house was not agreeing with me. I made that loud and clear. Then Mike said, "I'm sure you're not going to like this, but you've GOT to come see this." Normally, that means I could totally live without seeing whatever it is he wants to show me. That phrase is usually accompanied by a series of scary, itchy nightmares about multi-legged creatures I am terrified of.

This time was no different (I'm actually trying not to vomit as I write this. The closer I get to the big "reveal" the more I burp... and itch). Anyway, I slowly approach the door, not sure of what I am going to find, but knowing whatever it is, if he tells me I won't go look. I peek outside. Mike is standing there with a look of disgust. He points to the ground. I choke back my fear and look down... SPIDERS! Like 20 of them. Just laying on the porch. Big ones, too. And not the black kind you normally find indoors, but the scary white-ish ones. (Oh my gosh I am so itchy right now!!!)

So I screamed and slammed the door.

Mike came in to find me doing a funky dry-heave-scratchy-dance in the kitchen. I think if I could have crawled out of my body I would have. You have no idea how arachnophobic I am. Anyway, I propose, in order to calm myself, that maybe baby wasps just bear strong resemblance to spiders before they hatch or whatever. Mike quickly points out the difference in number of legs between the two species. (He picks NOW to be all scientific) So I go one more time to look at the spectacle on my porch. I figured I'd (ick) get a mental picture of them, then check it out on the internet and confirm that the wasps just lose the extra appendages once they hatch. Yah, that's it, they just fall right off and become wasps, not spiders at all.

Of course not. Turns out, mud dauber wasps are of the solitary variety, making a mud cocoon for their larvae, and filling it with paralyzed spiders for the young to feed on. The spiders were still alive, but paralyzed by the sting from the wasp. YYYEEEECCCHHHH!

There is not enough Raid on earth to rid me of the creepiness I saw that day. But I have decided that when the wasp returns, she may keep her nest (as long as it is not in my door-in-my-door) so as to rid my yard of the apparent infestation of scary bugs that reside there. So much for the strides I made in not "bug-hunting" while doing my gardening. Oh no, this bug-hunter is back, and on the attack.

I will TOO interfere...

2007-08-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

I got off work early the other day to join Mike at the movies for a date. It is rare, so we were excited. We went to see the Bourne Ultimatum. GREAT flick. Especially for a part 3, considering part 3's usually fall way short of the 1s or 2s. So we head on up to the top row, because I don't like people sitting behind me. I'd rather climb the stairs in the dark than have someone sit behind me. Unless I take the kids, then the 14 trips up and down the stairs to the bathroom way overpowers my dislike for people in my rear... wait that sounds bad... oh, you know what I mean.

So, we sat in the back, and as we are watching the commercials before the previews, three geeky looking boys walk in. I say boys, they were probably 20-22 years old. They each sit one seat apart, because god forbid they touch each other... people might talk... First problem is that there are like 15,000 seats in this damn place and you choose the one right in front of me?!? It's Wednesday afternoon at 4:15. There are 3 whole other couples in the joint, and you sit in front of me. Jackass.

The boy furthest from me to the right looks around suspiciously. He says in a rather ominous tone to the other boys, "Good. There's nobody around who'll interfere..." The way he said it, it seemed like he was plotting something terrible. And that he had grossly underestimated me as a source of interference... so I thought, "Oh, you've got it twisted, patnah... I will f&%$#ing interfere with you in a heatbeat. Try something funny. Go ahead, see what happen to you..." Just as my ghetto streak was about to peak, the three boys whip out their PSPs and start playing Super Mario. All together. You know, cuz they can't sit by one another, but they can link their PSPs and "interface." I guess that's what he meant by nobody would interfere... with their signal or something.

Anyway, it was VERY funny, because it all happened in like 5 seconds and was over with. But it seemed like it was going to be something, so I put my bad-ass hat on and was ready to roll. Ah, youngsters these days.

The saga of Pan continues

2007-08-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

So our situation has worsened. There is NOTHING worse than a love-struck, swooning 3 year old. First off, she is stuck on repeat and I can't find the 'mo.

Every two seconds... Mama, I Loooooooooove Peter Pan.

I know you do, baby. He loves you too.

I really love him. We're gonna get married.

Repeat until blue in the face.

I was contemplating what to do. Make an emergency trip to Disneyland and get it the hell out of her system? Make her watch the movie over and over until she gets sick of it? Ignore it?

I really wasn't sure what to do. The last straw came when we were all sitting around the dinner table. Madi was picking at her food, head in hand, dreamy look in her eyes. I had to ask...

What's wrong, punky? (Its punkin, only shortened)

I am soooooooo in love with Peter. He's the most handsome boy on the planet.

I know, eat your dinner.

I can't eat, I love him too much.

(Mike and I shoot each other a look. If it's this bad when she's 3, what's gonna happen when she's older and its a real boy?!?!)

Well, Peter only likes girls who eat.

Okay. And I when I'm done I need to go take a shower.

Ok, why?

So I'm clean and pretty when Peter gets here.

Oh for Crimeney sakes. Its too much.

So we ignore it for the rest of the night, until I have a brainstorm. I know, we'll get that youngster, co-worker friend of ours to call her and pretend to be Peter Pan!!!

He agrees, and promptly makes the call.

Madi was in the shower, but I didn't want to call him back, because if she thought I had Peter's number it would never end. So I got her out of the shower, and told her she had a phone call. Immediately she asked if it was Peter. I said yes...

Hi, Peter... (tee hee)

blahbitty blah blah blah.... Hi Madi its Peter yadda yadda yadda...

I love you Peter (giggle giggle)

I'm taking a shower... are you in Neverland?

I love you, Peter.

Can I talk to Wendy?

Ok, I love you Peter.

That's how my side of the conversation went. I'm not sure what he said to her, but you could have lit a forest on fire with the spark in her eyes. She has not stopped talking about it. So essentially, my attempt to quell the beast has just made it explode into a super-peter-stalking beast. I have had to watch Peter Pan 3 times since then, each time, hearing her profess her love for him. Mike says it would be funny if she goes to school and there is a kid in her class named Peter Pahn or something pronounced like Pan. She'd flip her wig.

Next in my big bag o' tricks is to get someone to dress like Peter and take her to dinner. LOL I don't think so... besides I don't think I know anyone I want to owe that hugely.

I'm just crossing my fingers. It will pass. Eventually she will get over him. It will pass. But for now, I'll keep explaining her Peter outbursts to waiters, checkout clerks, and the like. I've stopped trying to interpret the looks of either "Oh that's so cute" or "wow, your kid's a freak..." I just smile and move on... It will pass...

Peter Pan, future son-in-law

2007-08-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

Madi has developed her first crush. Well, more than a crush really. She's planning her wedding to a 50's era cartoon character. The other day, Madi, Alex and I were trying to decide which cartoon to watch. Alex, of course, wanted Cars. Madi - Alice in Wonderland. Me - anything NOT either of those. So we start to agree on Alice in Wonderland, when Madi suddenly says, "Mama, I'd actually like to watch Peter Pan... ... ... because I'm going to marry him."

(Oh re-hee-hee-ally? You mean you are going to marry a flying, felt-toga wearing, swashbuckling, never gonna grow up pixie boy? Wow, you do not know what you're getting into sister...)

Me: Oh, you are? Since when?

Madi: Oh, I love Peter. He is the most handsomest boy ever. He flies, and he's going to take me to Neverland, and I'm gonna see Captain Hook, but he's really mean, so I don't want him to come to the wedding. I'll get my kitty jammies on, and you can fix my hair, and I'm gonna marry Peter Pan.

Me: (eyes plastered open) You planned all that, huh?

Madi: Yah, and I want to wear the kitty jammies, because Peter likes them. And he's gonna come sleep in my bed, and put his shadow in my drawer. And you can read us stories.

Me: Oh. Does Daddy know about this?

Madi: Not yet, but I'll tell him when he gets home.

And she did. And she's told everyone else she can get to listen that she's going to marry Peter Pan. Matter of fact, last night we saw her Uncle, and it was the first thing she told him.

Uncle Bobby, Peter Pan is my boyfriend.

Sheesh. See, when it was Aladdin, she just wanted to pretend to hook up him and Jasmine, so we got the dolls, and she made them dance and sing the "I can show you the world" song, and fly on their magical carpet over the unicorns (which Alex gladly pretended to be). But I'm not really sure what to do with this. Do I feed the beast and give her an imaginary wedding, kitty jammies and all, to some fairytale thing? I mean I don't want to crush her little imagination and tell her she can't marry Peter. (Crap! Now we're on a first name basis)

Hopefully, it will be something else next week, and we'll be over this whole Peter drama. Maybe I can tell her Tink asked him out, and now they're all hot and heavy and he's not able to continue seeing her.

I'll keep you posted on how it all "pans" out. Pun intended :)

Say WHAT?!?

2007-08-08T14:15:00.000-07:00

We were having dinner at Outback the other night, and the kids were coloring.

As usual, Alex dropped his blue crayon onto the floor. "Aw, nutsack!" he exclaimed loudly, snapping his fingers mightily and climbing down to get the crayon (enter disapproving looks from neighboring tables).

Now, I know for sure that is a word that has NEVER left my lips, and I'm pretty sure Mike shys away from it, too. So where, oh where, did my little monkey learn the word "nutsack?" And why would he use it to show his digust for dropping his crayon? Usually he says "Aw, nuts!" but nutsack?!? I mean for real... that's just gross.

I also had an unfortunate incident similar to this one when I was a child. It has moritified my mother for 18 years, and she refuses to let me forget it. When I was 12, some of my friends had started using a term that I didn't fully understand. Not wanting to look ignorant in the ways of the world, I studied their use of the word, and adapted a definition in my mind. (Word of warning: do not define words in any language in the context used by a fellow 12 year old who doesn't know what the hell they're talking about)

So I have in my mind an idea of what this phrase means and how I should use it in a sentence. One day, my mom, grandma, and I were walking down the sidewalk in a crowded shopping center. A guy drove by in a lowered mini-truck (hey, it was the 80s...), music blaring. Because his car was lowered, his suspension was all tweaked, causing him to bounce up and down quickly in his seat as he drove along. Finally! I got all set to use my new phrase. This was the perfect situation. So I raise my 12 year old arm, point to the guy in the truck, and shout "Hey look! He's jacking off!"YES!!! Won't my mom be proud of that vernacular, based on something I put together in my juvenile little mind!!!

Well, you can imagine she was pleased right to death. She was so pleased, in fact, she turned red as a beet and yelled my name out with hurricane force fury! Yippee, all that schooling is paying off. Well, turns out she wasn't pleased. She was really embarrased. And MAD. She asked me if I knew what that meant, and I said yes, it meant jumping up and down in your seat, just like that guy in the truck was (ohmygod mom, you're like so not cool for not knowing that).

So I was wrong about what it REALLY meant, although I guess you could mimick the motion? Anyway, I think it's really funny now, but still it makes my mom get a little louder and pinker than usual.

Sex in the City - on the street corner...

2007-07-31T12:37:00.000-07:00

So Sunday we took the kids to San Francisco to see their uncle. Alex is just crazy about the Rainforest Cafe, so every time we go up, he wants to eat there. Let me start by saying I LOVE how open-minded we are as a family and that seemingly nothing my children see surprises them.

First, we drove up to SF because we were droping off a b-ball hoop to my bro-in-law. Usually we take BART because the kids love it so much, but not this time. We exited the freeway at 9th. As we turn onto 9th, we start to see quite a large crowd. It began to don on me that while it was quite a normal crowd for SF, not so much for anywhere else. Mike and I shot each other a look. I was wondering what the kids would say... but the windows were up, so I wasn't too worried :) (Wanna know what it was?)

Madi was the first one to pipe up...

Madi: Hey! That man is NAKED!

Me: Well, except for the leather speedo and chains...

Alex: And that guy has on cowboy pants! (Chaps)

Me: Holy Shit! That guy has a whip! Look, look, he's whipping that guy tied up in ropes!

Mike: Honey!

Me: Well look, he's whipping him down the street!

Madi: It's not nice to hit people with things.

Me: (Doesn't look like he minds....) No, it's not.

Alex: How come they are dressed up like that? Did we miss Halloween? I wanted to be a cowboy too.

Me: No, honey, we didn't miss it, it's just San Francisco.

So we go on down the road. We see a couple other random people doing VERY random stuff. Then on one corner, there was this girl yelling at a crowd of people. I rolled my window down to listen, just in time to hear her say "You've got nothing! You got NOTHING on me! Well, besides what, a video of me picking my nose once? I mean come on!" We all burst out laughing.

We saw the Bush Man. First time I've actually seen him. It was SO funny. The kids were laughing their little heads off at him. I still say my kick-ass instinct would take over and I would probably kick the guy in the head or something if he jumped at me like that.

In all, we saw a bagillion transients, Madi touched/hugged 7 garbage cans, we saw a "lady" rolling himself uphill in an old office chair and high heels under a busted rainbow umbrella (OMG it was funny), and a million other things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Later that night, we went back without the kids and went out. At deckfast (dinner/breakfast), a very slight looking Hispanic male walked in with gigantor broad, who was actually a man. We were all wondering if he knew, but my guess was that he didn't. He just looked way too happy to be dining with Tranny Manny to even think there might be a snake in the basement, you dig? It was just so obvious to all of us... Oh, outside this bar, K and I commented on a girl's shoes, and how much we liked them. We were kinda hoping she would trade one of us for ours, because she was having a REALLY hard time walking in them, and her shoes were bad-ass. Instead she thought we were hitting on her. She was NOT cute. And her friend Smokey sounded like she'd had one too many packs of Cools for the vocal chords.

So back to the leather-clad mens, I have never seen 4 city blocks so chock full of cow-covered booties. I mean, strappy leather restraints, chaps, shorts, you name it. And not one of them with a shirt on. It was crazy. At one point, I rolled my window down and yelled "Yeeeooooooooowww!" at one of them. He thought he rocked, pot-belly and all.

Strangely enough, I DO miss living in that city by the bay... there are not too many places in the world you can get all that fun in one day. I mean, you could go out with no pants and not get a second look. It's like the land of wardrobe malfunctions and insanity. Gotta love it.

Dear "John"

2007-07-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

I have been considering for a very long time whether or not to blog this... but I have decided it is time.

Today, for the first time in many weeks, I was able to walk into the bathroom stall here at work and find the seat free of any trace of it's prior user. Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode where Elaine is in the bathroom talking to this other woman, and she says how excited she is that they are the only two who share the bathroom? Then the next thing you hear is the lady pulling out a toilet seat cover... That's pretty much how I feel now.

There are relatively few of us women here, so you'd think that over all, there would be a pretty good chance of cleanliness. Not so.

First let me describe the scene. This is the bathroom time forgot. During the remodel of our facility, I think they either ran out of funds right before our bathroom, or the contractor had a serious case of amnesia and forgot to fix it up. The bathrooms on the upper floors have bright lighting, white walls, a little shelf for a plant, air freshener, etc. Ours here on the first floor is dingy, poorly lit, and smells like ass in hell on a particularly hot day.

So that's the first greeting when you walk in. It feels a bit like I imagine a subway bathroom would feel, and I always want to look in the other stalls for a lurking chainsaw murderer. They say the smell is from the "P-trap" drying out and allowing sewer odor in. Yummy! So the solution is to pour water into the drain in the floor to keep the thing wet and non smelly. I'll admit it is slightly better once you do that, but still smells like ass in hell on a muggy evening.

Once you power past the smell, you have to choose from one of three stalls. #1 - Corner Pocket... Bad choice because it is even darker there than the rest of the bathroom and there's a daddy long legs residing in the corner near the ceiling. As far as I can remember it has been there for about a year. I refuse to kill it, and apparently so does the janitorial staff. What perplexes me most is how it stays alive. Unless it survives on stank air and dust, there must be some critters in there invisible to the naked eye that it feasts upon. #2 - Middle Man... Slightly better lit, almost always has TP, although very close to the funk-emitting hole in the floor. #3 - Mayhem Central... This is most certainly where the chainsaw toting villain would be if there were one. Plenty of room to wield said chainsaw (it's a handicap stall) AND the funky hole is actually in there, providing lovely background odor to mask the smell of a body. So the lesser of 3 evils is #2.

Once you get into the stall and take a seat, you have lovely scenery... stained grouting in between the tiled wall and floor, marred stall dividers with random screws left over from something that used to hang there, an intake duct covered with hanging dust bunnies, a fire sprinkler sticking out of a gaping hole in the ceiling that was left unfinished, and of course, the funky hole of sewer gasses you can see under the mayhem stall divider. Trust me, there is no better motivator to finish up your business quickly than the state of affairs in the bathroom.

The thing that turns my stomach the most are the little prizes left behind by others. Hairs, fluids, unflushed remnants, I dare not go into what else I have found in there for risk of losing readers... But really, don't you turn to look before leaving the stall? I do. So the question is do people not look properly, or are they just that freakin' slobby that they don't care about what they leave behind for the next guy (or girl, in this case)?

Once you escape and go to wash your hands, you find the soap does not lather and appears to be watered down. The cold water does not turn all the way on, and the hot water isn't hot. The paper towels are never in the dispenser, but left on top, because apparently it is too hard to turn the little lever that opens the dispenser and put the towels inside. Or maybe the smell drives the janitor out gasping for cleaner air.

So that's my drama for today. I guess if that's all I have to complain about I'm in good shape. I'll just be thankful for my clean, fresh-smelling pomegranate scented bathroom at home.

So he thinks he can dance...

2007-07-19T15:24:00.000-07:00

We are fans of the show So You Think You Can Dance.

Madi has decided to become a contemporary/lyrical dancer. Her interpretations of music and dance would make Mia Michaels proud (those of you who watch will find that funny). She also wants to be a cheerleader, which by the conviction in her voice when she tells people she wants to be one, she really will.

Alex has other plans. One of the contestants said during his bio that his mom got him into dancing, and when he said he didn't want to go, she told him 'Just think, when all the other boys are going into locker rooms to change with other smelly boys, you can go and be with a bunch of beautiful girls." Who'd have thought a 4 year old who listens to NOTHING that comes from my mouth would listen to some guys mom on TV? But that's just what happened. So I noticed him trying to do some pretty cool dance moves he saw on the show. He actually was doing a pretty good job. So I inquire, as any curious mother would...

Me: Hey Alex, whatcha doin'?

Alex: I practicing my moves.

Me: (snicker snicker) your "moves" huh?

Alex: Yah. I'm gonna be a b-boy.

Me: (choking Diet Coke thru my nose) WHAT?

Alex: A b-boy, mama. You know, a break dancer.

Me: Cool. Do you want to take classes or just learn from TV?

Alex: I want to take classes. And meet girls.

Me: (more DC thru the nose) Girls?!?

Alex: Yah, like the guy on Cat Deeley. (the hostess of So You Think You Can Dance, the kids like her and have re-named the show after her)

Me: (having seen the episode) Oh. Okaaaaayyyy...

Alex: I have cooler moves than them.

Me: You do have cool moves.

Alex: Yah. I'm a cool b-boy. (OMG every time he says it it gets funnier)

So now I get to pay for dance classes for the princess of interpretive dance and a b-boying monkey who wants to meet girls. (No doubt older girls - seems he's always eyeing up the older ones, you know 7, 8, 9 years old LOL)

Wish me luck. And if you get any mass chain e-mails saying if you send it to 10 people you'll get windfalls of cash, don't send it to me. But if you do get the cash, keep me in mind. These Bobos are expensive.

A rant about Safeway...

2007-07-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

I think everyone who drives with their head up their ass comes to my Safeway. The parking lot situation is a nightmare. And that's before you even get into the store.

Once inside, there are a whole other set of things to deal with. There is one youngster who works there that I asked where something could be found in the store. He shrugged, grunted something like "uhnuh" and walked off. Gee, thanks. So the next person I asked looked clearly disgruntled and said "I dunno, maybe aisle 7?" and pointed in the general direction I should go. Better than Gruntey Grunterson, but still not what I would expect. What happened to the days when you asked someone for something, and they personally escorted you to the EXACT spot in the store it was, then selected the best one for you and straightened up the shelf while they were at it. And it's not like I'm 85 and saying "back when I was a kid..." This was like a few years ago.

So I start my mosey over to Aisle 7 to continue my quest, grabby children in tow. I thought the traffic jam in the parking lot was bad... apparently the people who can't drive cars cant drive carts either. After the remodel, the checkout counters are a bit too close to the aisles, so there's no place for more than 2 carts to queue up and check out. Finally, I decided to take a side aisle and go around. Once I got to aisle 7, the item I was looking for was obviously not there. For F&%$'s sake people, why is this so hard?!?!

Finally, I got everything I needed and got to checkout. The clerk was friendly and chatted up the kids, who at this point I just wanted to take home and duct tape to the ceiling. Whatever marketing person is responsible for hanging cheap ass toys from the shelves in every aisle just at kid-reach should be drug into the street and shot. Before I knew the aisle to avoid. Magazines, cards, school supplies, and toys. All in one forbidden aisle. But now, they're strewn about everywhere you go. They should put Advil dispensers up for the parents, right next to the toys. That way the incessant whining of "oooh oooh I want this one! No, look at this one! Maaaaaaa-maaaaaaa! Puh-leeeeeeease?" would be more tolerable.

So the bagging had begun, and another raggamuffin teen comes up and mumbles "Wud ya like help out?" My standard reply: "Not unless you can come to my house and take the stuff in for me." So I watch in awe at the bagging technique. It used to be (and still is at some small stores) that the bagger was a skilled technician. They could spot like items and quickly and efficiently bag them together. Nothing broken, nothing melting/squishing/crushing anything else. Oh no, not this gem of a bagger.

Here's a sampling of what he put together:
Giant vat of OJ and tomatoes (oh well, I guess I wanted some salsa anyway...)
Prepackaged turkey, Windex, and a bottle of wine (maybe the turkey will cushion the wine, then the Windex can clean the bottle of turkey juice...)
Toddler ravioli bite cans in with the bag of (smashed) chips
Deodorant and steak
Another bottle of wine with a box of Kleenex

Holy crap! Every time I go (because it's really the only major grocery store near me) it is something.

On the way out, I was approached by two transients and a guy who wanted me to vote for something. I told him I was NOT A REGISTERED VOTER. (OMG good thing Mike wasn't there and never reads this, or he would never let me live that down. I'm always on him to register to vote. It would have seriously cracked a hole in my soap box). But after the bagging incident, and biting my tongue and not saying anything, I would have just said something rude to the guy. So I lied.

Then I got home to my crushed food. I also found my mango salsa was expired over a month, and my chicken expired by two weeks. I'll go back to the small markets, thank you very much.

Random Facts of Nonsense

2007-07-12T14:56:00.000-07:00

So I always see people sending out those friend surveys with the very random questions about things you've done/said/eaten/been/thought/etc. Then last night on So You Think You Can Dance they asked the contestants for a detail about themselves that the viewers would not know. Then Mike asked what I would say if someone were to ask me that question... I thought and came up with a lot of weird little things about myself. Here goes:

I have a fear of drains (of all sizes). I call it drain-o-phobia. If you look on the website www.unusualphobias.com you'll see I'm not the only one.

I am quite a good cook. Not to sound like I'm boasting, but people like my grub.

I am known as "Dictionary Girl" around work. Any time anyone doesn't know how to spell a word, they don't turn to Miriam-Webster. No no, they just ask me.

I can curl my tongue into a cup shape without the use of my teeth. A feat only 2% of people can do. How I found that out and where I got the statistic still escapes me though.

My high school and my university had the same mascot.

Once, while skiing, I slid so fast down the mountain face first I stopped breathing for a second. Then a snowboarder rode up and said "Whoa! That was gnarly, dude! Are you OK?" I flailed my arms a little, I guess to say "yes" and he took off.

I have 4 tattoos, and I'm saving up for the next one.

I used to do a very good Fire Marshall Bill impression. I refuse to do it now, mostly because of the pressure.

I also do a great Janice impression (from Friends).

Although I was never in a drama class, in high school I dressed in a Big Bird costume for a skit (actually it was a big chicken that was meant to be Big Bird), and directed/produced/starred in a remake of the witches scene from MacBeth. It was fun.

I know all the words to a LOT of cartoon theme songs, including Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, Scooby Doo, Flintstones, Spongebob, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Little Einsteins, oh the list goes on... and on... and on...

I also know most Beatles songs. Their music makes me happy.

When I was little, I thought the lyrics "I fought the law, and the law won" was really "hop of the log, like a frog-og." Don't ask, I was weird.

I don't collect anything. Most people have some sort of collection, but I don't.

My favorite country to say is "Djibouti." (Pronounced juh-booty) Someday I'd like to visit there, so when someone asks where I went I can say "I was in Djibouti."

I speak Spanish (well everyone knows that). But when I learned, I had teachers from various Spanish-speaking countries, all with different accent patterns. So when I speak, people always ask if I'm Cuban. Then I have to answer the barrage of questions when I say no, like why I sound Cuban, where did I learn, etc. I should just say yes, it would be easier. But from the deepest darkest forest, where people don't get enough sun...

Favorite sports mascot: SJ Sharkie (NHL, San Jose Sharks)

I am a scuba diver. Funny though, since I hate putting my face in the water, and don't like going in the ocean... it's just different with the gear.

See above re: scuba diving... During my open water certification, I discovered one can become sea sick while diving. I puked in front of my whole class and then had to watch as they all swam through it... yummy!

I dressed up as the Domino's Pizza Noid for Halloween one year. My mom made the costume, as always.

I like to wear turquoise blue. It makes me look tan.

My hair has been the following colors: Light brown, blonde, light carrotty orange (accidental), black, purpley black, dark blue and black, maroon, firey red roots (again, accidental), and now brown with blonde highlights. I have returned to a color found in nature.

Since I come from the parent species Odius Vegetalis (veggie haters), it is rather curious that I love vegetables.

Spiders make me freeze in my tracks with fear. Moths too. But snakes and alligators are no biggie.

About the spiders, I remember the exact moment my arachnophobia went over the top. I was in El Salvador, and while pouring a bowl of Zucaritas (frosted flakes) a HUGE spider ran out of my pants pocket and across my body. It was bigger than a tarantula. The house we were in was infested with them. I didn't sleep the entire 3 days we were there.

At my wedding, we served Armadillo Willy's BBQ. I wore pink and white Adidas tennis shoes, hidden under my dress.

My favorite perfume is anything Christian Dior, but most especially Hypnotic Poison.

I (along with hubby, kids, and parents) rode out Hurricane John while on vacation in Cabo. It was SO COOL to see, minus the destruction in its wake.

My favorite color is blue.

The person I have known the longest (aside from family) that I still keep in contact with is named Jennifer. We've known each other for 23 years.

I love Diet Coke.

I have a construction paper George Washington that Alex made at pre-school for President's Day hanging on the bulletin board in my office. Funny thing is, everyone who comes in says, "Is that George Washington?" It's a pretty good likeness for flimsy cardboard cut by a 4 year old.

I love Disneyland more than my kids do.

Once at LAX, when I was 16, I was walking through the airport not paying attention and mowed down Martin Sheen. He was very gracious and accepted my apology, then went on his way.

My husband says I am secretly a hard-core rapper on the inside. Because I like Tupac, Biggie, Jay-Z, etc, I know all the lyrics to their songs, and belt them loudly in the most ghetto fashion every time they come on. He is amused, but says it's actually believable if you close your eyes and forget I'm hella white.

Ok, enough randomness, I've had fun reminiscing.

Mini Mobster

2007-07-10T12:34:00.000-07:00

The other day we were doing some work in the back yard. Mike told Alex if he would do certain tasks, he would give him additional money on top of his usual allowance. So the monkey helped him, went to the dumps, etc. He earned $5.

The next day, Alex and I were talking and I asked if he got his money from Daddy. He said No.
So I told him, "Go tell Daddy, 'You owe me money. If you don't pay up, I'll bust your knee caps.' He'll think it's funny." So off he goes, walks down the stairs, and I hear "Hey Daddy... um, gimme my money or I'll break your legs off! Moo-hoo-wah-hah-ha (evil laugh)!"

Mike comes walking up the stairs, asking what the hell I was feeding into the child's brain. I was laughing too hard to talk. I am still amused by this story, and it happened like a week ago.

The end of an era... well, the end of 3 weeks.

2007-06-23T14:55:00.000-07:00

After 3 weeks and the progression of my back injury, I am throwing in the marathon towel. All the pep talks in the world will not make this misery worth it. I am going to continue to "get in shape" just in a more sane fashion. If I may, I'll take a moment to vent. This thing was making me CRAZY. I didn't sleep well, I've been crabby, and to be perfectly honest, all the stress has done a number on my bowels. Ok there, I said it. I got the poops. As if that weren't injury enough, my back has been steadily getting worse. I hit it on a big rock when I was a kid, and lately it has been killing me. So every long run we do, it feels as though it compresses further and further. Not to mention, who adds on a mile a week?!?! Seriously, the "training" program left much to be desired. Any training at all would have been good, but what it consisted of was a little reminder about fundraising dues and then they'd kick our butts down to the street and say "Go."

You can't take a bunch of people who have never run before and tell them to work out 6 days a week and then give them increasing mileage every Saturday. It will break them. I feel hella busted. (There's a word from 1989) Hella busted. Anyway, I feel a bit "taken" if you will, like we became their money mules. I got a bunch of e-mails from them asking for volunteer time for events, to man a booth at the pride parade, all for fundraising credits, of course. And on Saturday morning, instead of taking time to "coach" us, as advertised, the coach would tell us to be sure to do our fundraising, and give us the grand total to date. Then he'd tell us half marathoners that after our run, we didn't have to come back to the start site, we could just go home. They didn't make sure we cooled down or anything. Just go home and fundraise!! The full marathoners, on the other hand, got a little more time post-run. But then they are raising more $$$, so why not. I am a little bitter, yes. But it really has nothing, well, not everything to do with my quitting. It did play a small part. But the terrible training program has me injured, and my training buddy injured, where she was not before. She was perfectly good and they busted her too.

Anyway, thanks to all of you for your support. Those of you who donated can feel good knowing your hard-earned cash went to a good cause. But I'll skip the ice baths and crushed spine, thank you very much. And so ends the marathon blog. But of course, you can always read my other fun hijinks here.

I'm running a marathon. Stop laughing, I am.

2007-06-05T11:46:00.000-07:00

For those of you who know me really well, you know I pretty much run when chased or chasing, and that’s it. So how in the world did I get myself into running a half-marathon? I was sitting at the computer, logging lunch into my Weight Watchers online points tracker. I was thinking about how well I have been doing modifying my eating habits and adding in more healthful options, at the same time lamenting my lack of exercise. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to tweak my schedule enough to fit in anything substantial or regular. Just then, as if she were reading my mind, my friend Katrina sent me an e-mail. It said “Any chance I could talk you into joining me for the AIDS half marathon in Vegas on Dec 2?” My reply was quite simple, “How funny, I didn’t know you smoked crack… Usually, I only run when chased. But since it’s you asking me, and I’m trying to get in shape, I’ll say yes. Just know I might ask you to chase me from time to time so I can keep going.” Then I sent the message. (Oh my gosh, what have I done?!?) Then I had a mini-panic attack. (I can’t run that far!!!) Then I thought maybe she’d think I was joking, or maybe SHE was joking! (Yah, that’s it. She’s so funny.) Then it hit me. I had just committed to running 13.1 miles (at once) in 6 months time. Maybe I was the one smoking crack.

Later on Katrina and I talked about it. She had received a flier in the mail advertising the marathon and half-marathon. For some reason it caught her attention, unlike the rest of the junk mail that got tossed directly into the recycle bin. So she figured what the heck, let’s see what it’s all about. We went to an informational meeting, where they showed us a 10 minute video of prior participants in the race. There were people from all walks of life featured in the video. There were even people like me, who looked like running might not have been up very high on their list of things to do. The part that hooked me is they offer a 6 month training program to get you in shape for the task. Then there was the thing that made up my mind. A lady in the video talked about how the training was hard, and the race was painful at times. Then she said she didn’t mind doing it, because her short time suffering with the pain from running and training paled in comparison to the pain people suffering with AIDS and HIV face every day. I started thinking about her statement, and evaluating my own place in life. When I thought about it, I realized I have it pretty good. I have my family, I have my health, and I shouldn’t have any more excuses. I have the ability to do this, and in doing so, I will raise money to help the people who can’t. What better motivation than that?

Now I have a goal to meet. Every Saturday, Katrina and I are going to hook up with our local group and run (or maybe be chased occasionally), training for a milestone experiences in our lives! Stay tuned for updates, and I'm sure I'll be hitting you all up for donations, because my fundraising goal is $2800. Once I complete my web page for the race, I'll send out the link.

Every Saturday morning, when you go to brush your teeth and you see the Icy Hot in the medicine cabinet, think of me. I need to make a trip to Chinatown for the Kwan Loong oil. Or maybe I should buy stock... LOL

Monty would be proud, or annoyed maybe...

2007-04-27T09:18:00.000-07:00

Remember let’s make a deal?
They had this part of the show where Monty Hall would go into the audience and wave $50 in the air and offer it to the first person who could produce an obscure item from their handbag. I am confident I could totally win whatever money he had in his pocket.

I was sitting at my desk today, thinking about what I have to do. I thought, at lunch, I have that nail appointment, they only take cash… I better either pat Mike down and take his cash or go to the ATM. Oh wait! Last week I got at 20 at Safeway. Where’s that receipt? I left the money folded up inside so Mike wouldn’t find it… I set out to search my purse for the money. I placed the purse on top of the desk and reached in, not really looking, just feeling for the receipt. I mean, I just cleaned out my purse last week, how hard could it be? HA!

Enter Monty Hall.

I’ve got $50 for the first person who can show me a small, plastic, chocolate-covered donut!
Oooooh! Ooooh! I’ve got it! (Madi gave it to me last week for “breakfast.” It’s still in my purse)

Ok, I’ve got another $50 for the first person who can show me a tape measure!
Ooooh! Me again! Over here!!! (You never know when you might need it. I actually use it a lot.)

Okaaaay… someone else now, $100 for the first one to show me a lint roller!
Um, Monty? That’s me again. Yah, I’ve got that too. (sweet! 200 bucks!)

And while we’re at it, let me just have you empty your pockets and I’ll show you the rest of what I got…

An apple, a stuffed Charlotte toy (spider from Charlotte’s Web), Kleenex, nasal spray, nail clippers, a “tool-in-a-pen” (miniature cutters, saws, nail files, picks, etc), Children’s Tylenol (you’d be surprised how often a 4 and 2 year old bonk stuff while on the go), pocket knife x2, badge, hairspray, spray mousse, car air freshener, glasses, nail file, old cell phone, new cell phone, inhaler, lotion (cream and butter style), makeup, perfume, Sharpie, Tide on-the-go stick, After-Bite stick (to stop the itching on bug bites), eyedrops x2, Neosporin, some more make-up (did I mention I hardly EVER wear makeup, yet I feel the need to carry it with me…), crayons, another smaller Sharpie, ooh a Band Aid, gum, stickers, a pen, a bluetooth robot-ear thingy, Excedrin Tension Headache (I'm a supervisor now, I need it) and movie ticket stubs.

And it’s not full yet… Any wonder it weighs 15 pounds? Seriously. But the day I take something out, I guarantee you, I’ll find a use for it and kick myself for taking it out.

Silly rabbit, egg hunts are for kids...

2007-04-08T11:08:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I took the kids to an Easter Egg hunt. It was advertised in the paper with a little flyer, "Free Easter Egg Hunt" (are there any that are not free?) sponsored by some group called "Dream" that I had never heard of. I figured it was a church function (I mean, it WAS for Easter after all) and I accepted that we would probably end up getting junk mail from our "registration" forms. Indeed. It was exactly as I expected. Not being a religious person, I took it for what it was worth, bowed my head in respect while prayers were said over a very loud PA system, and waited to turn the kids loose on the field of eggs. They kept thinking it was Halloween, only with a bunny... I later asked Mike to explain the "real" meaning of Easter to the kids, being that he was raised a good Catholic boy.

Anyway, the thing that pissed me off so badly was that the other parents that were there didn't just let their kids do the hunting, the parents were on seek and destroy missions for those eggs. Free-for-all was a colossal understatement. Thank goodness my mom was with me, because the parents were pushing and shoving so badly I almost lost Alex, who was trying desperately to pick up one little blue egg. So she stuck with him, and I stuck with Madi. She's so little she couldn't even make it through the crowd of snarling, egg-hungry beasts masquerading as parents. I finally picked her up and dodged a few of the slobbering hyenas in order to get her to a spot where there were not so many people.

Just as soon as we got there, the mob followed. So there's my tiny girl, bending down to get a pink egg, when this pudgy, adult hand swooped in and snatched that pink egg, as well as two other ones she had already picked up and put in her basket. Now I am normally a very diplomatic, level-headed individual. Matter of fact, I make a living at it. Always have to be held to a higher standard. So to hold back and not beat the living piss out of this grabby-mitten bitch who had just stuck her sausage fingers into my kid's basket was all I could do. Even before I could get "what the fu..." oh, wait, this is an Easter egg hunt... even before I could ask her what in the Sam Hill she was doing taking eggs from my little girl, she scampered off into the crowd.

So, as soon as Alex(who would have probably kicked that lady in the shin...) had a few, and Madi got a couple, we jetted, before everyone else was done. We got to the car, I loaded up the kids, and who do you think I saw??? That's right, old grabby-mittens herself. She was pushing a stroller with a baby in it that was probably 5 months old. Not even old enough to walk. Certainly not old enough to eat candy. I supressed my primal urge to just jam the gas pedal to the floor and mow her candy-snatching ass down. The bottom of the stroller, you know where the basket is, was FULL of little plastic eggs. FULL. Not a couple, not a little trinket, FULL. LLENO DE HUEVOS. Listen lady, if you need candy that badly, you don't need to hunt eggs to get it. Candy also comes in these giant, well-lit boxes called convenience stores. Heft your fat ass in there, drop a buck and get you some.

I just took this class last week, and part of it was generational learning and how each generation is different. They call the new generation the "me" generation. Is it any wonder all they think about is me, me, me when they've got Greedy Gerta stealing them eggs at 5 months? People have no common courtesy. Ok, enough... The best part about the day? The kids counted their eggs, 14 between the two of them. Alex says "Mama! We have 14 eggs! That's like a MILLION eggs!" They were so satisfied with the couple they got. At least I can take heart in knowing my kids will be NOTHING like greedy sausage-fingers who stole eggs from a child.

Just Say No...

2007-04-03T12:26:00.000-07:00

I was looking at Readers Digest today, and I noticed something. About every 5th page was an ad for prescription medication. I got through about half of the book before I realized it, so I went back and started really looking at the ads. In the majority of cases, the side effects are WORSE than the problem you take the meds for in the first place. Take for example, the following:

Pgs 6-9: Vytorin (Cholesterol Meds)
Side Effects: In clinical studies, patients reported the following common side effects… headache and muscle pain, allergic reactions including swelling of the face lips tongue, and/or throat that may cause difficulty in breathing or swallowing (which may require treatment right away), rash, hives, joint pain, muscle pain, alterations in some laboratory blood tests, liver problems, inflammation of the pancreas, nausea, gallstones, inflammation of the gallbladder.

Let me run right out and get some. Because I’d rather lower my cholesterol than have several of my major organs malfunction.

Pgs 14-17: Spiriva (COPD inhaler)
This one has so many side effects, there is a chart for it.
Pgs 24-27: Lyrica (Treats nerve pain caused by diabetes or shingles)
Dizziness, sleepiness, swelling of extremities, blurry vision, trouble concentrating, dry mouth, and weight gain (great for diabetes patients)
Pg 33: Ad for Walgreens Pharmacy, so you can fill all the prescriptions advertised in the magazine.
Pgs 36-37 (plus Business Reply mailer): Pfizer “Quit Smoking” ad. Does not name the drug, but offers a “prescription treatment option.”
Pgs 48-51 (plus Business Reply mailer and survey): Humira (Rheumatoid Arthritis injection)
Redness, rash, swelling, itching, or bruising at injection site, as well as upper respiratory infection, headache, and nausea.
Pgs 55-57: Lunesta (Sleep aid)
Lengthy list, including memory problems, dependence, withdrawl, behavioral changes (such as suicidal thoughts, confusion, depression, etc). The list goes on, and explains each problem. I particularly like the one about traveler’s amnesia, where if you take it while traveling, you may wake up and not remember how you got there. Lovely.
Pg 73 (plus another mail-in card): Learn more about Peripheral Artery Disease and your prescription options.
Pgs 81-83: Rozerem (Sleep Aid)
See Lunesta, above. Also, add the possibility of birth defects, headache, drowsiness, fatigue, dizziness, nausea, insomnia(!?!), Upper respiratory infection, diarrhea, muscle pain, depression, decreased sense of taste, joint pain, flu. Makes Lunesta look pretty good…

Not even halfway through the magazine yet…

Pgs 87-90: Plavix (Blood Thinner)
Yet another that felt the need for a chart of side effects.
Pgs 95-97: Boniva (Osteoporosis)
Relatively low side effects. Pulled out all the stops and got Sally Fields as a
spokesperson.
Pgs 103-105: Zetia (Cholesterol)
See Vytorin, above. Although this one said “patients reported few side effects.” Right. But they did have a cool graphic of a digestive tract with a turkey, steak, and a sandwich going through.

Fast-forward – no ads for 70 pages…

Pgs 175-178: Ambien (Sleep Aid)
Pgs 201-203: Requip (Restless Leg Syndrome) And I thought I just tapped my legs because I had extra energy…
Pgs 222-225: Lantus (24-hour Insulin Injection)

Is it any wonder our society is so unhealthy?!? I think direct marketing of prescription drugs to the general public is horrific, a huge abuse of advertising power. After all who is the audience? People like myself who just flip by the pages for half the magazine, not even realizing that there are drug ads? Nope. It goes after the self-diagnosers, the medication seekers, the hypochondriacs, who actually GO to the doctor and ask if these medications are right for them. Can you imagine? Your cholesterol is a little high, so they prescribe you one of these medications. You start taking it, and now your biggest concern isn’t future clogging of the arteries, it’s gallbladder disease, chronic muscle pain, and a swollen pancreas. But I bet then they’d prescribe more medication to treat those symptoms, which then would give you more symptoms, and before you know it you need a pill box and an alarm clock to remember to take all your medicine. Why not eat a bowl of Cheerios, it lowers cholesterol too.

(stepping down from soap box)

Ok, well now that I’ve ranted for a while, I will leave you to your thoughts. And I have to start a letter to my elected officials about changing these advertising laws… (I’m totally serious, stop laughing)

Wipe that Smile...

2007-04-02T18:35:00.000-07:00

So the other night, Madi was being particularly naughty. She was talking back, hitting her brother, and just generally being a pain in the rear. So I called hger over to the kitchen table where I was sitting and I said, "Young lady, you are not being very nice to your brother. You hit him for no reason, you..." (Madi had a big grin on her face like she was proud of how she was acting) So then I said "Wipe that smile off your face this instant and look at me!" Guess what she did... here it comes...

She used the back of her hand to WIPE HER SMILE OFF, then looked at me. It was so funny I couldn't help but laugh. So she ended up going to bed because she was still terrorizing Alex, but that whole smile thing was pretty freakin' funny.

A bee in the pants is worth... well, not much, really

2007-02-13T09:28:00.000-08:00

Something was digging up my dirt. I had two flower pots on the porch. I had not planted anything in them. I was waiting for, well, I dunno what I was waiting for... But an animal kept digging up my dirt and throwing it all over the porch. At first I thought squirrel. We have quite a few of them around and they like to hide nuts. So for weeks we just kept cleaning it up.

Finally, DING, the light bulb went on. Why not plant something in the pots... DUH! So I planted cyclamens in the pots - pink, red, and purple ones. They look beautiful. I figured now that there were plants, the animal would have to stop digging... Nope. It dug around the plants. I was slightly tweaked. Mike was much more upset about it. He was threatening some pretty advanced tactical measures against the animal. I'm talking night vision, cameras, water squirters, etc. We eventually narrowed it down to one old, mangey cat that lives two doors down. The owner is very old and doesn't keep after her cat. If it were someone younger, I'd have probably mentioned it to them. But how can you control where a cat wants to make unbelievably irritating huge messes, right? Well, as if making my porch a daily disaster wasn't enough, it moved on to digging up my sidewalk border where I had planted a couple hundred dollars worth of bulbs. Of course you know, this means war.

So I set out to finding a remedy to our cat situation. I searched the internet for "cat repellant." I also searched for "squirrel repellant" just in case. I came across on website that offered concentrated female fox urine to inspire "natural instinct of fear" in cats and squirrels. They also claim it will not, in fact, attract male foxes to your yard. Well, we live pretty darn close to a regional park which is pretty much a natural fox habitat. I didn't really want to be the first one to prove them wrong. Next idea... I found another website that offered household solutions to pesky digging by neighborhood cats. Perfect. I don't have to buy coyote piss. Turns out, so they say, cats dislike citrus and cayenne pepper. I do have a lemon tree, so I have citrus readily available... But I didn't want to leave lemon peels in the dirt, as they suggested. Make my beautiful sidewalk border look like a recycled food bin... So, I came up with an idea.

I went to the store and bought two of the largest containers of cayenne pepper they had. Admittedly I felt like Wiley Coyote. I wish my pepper had said Acme on the side, because I had a feeling there would be a story in this somewhere... My kids and my mom took a seat on the front porch to watch me sprinkle away. I started on the cat's beloved porch plants, and gave the dirt around them a good dousing of pepper. I giggled away, as I thought of the cat taking a big ol' whiff of the pepper, then running like a shot off my porch. Ha! Next, I went out to the sidewalk and started sprinkling the border. I was going to just do a little and save the second container, but I really wanted to get my point across to that damn cat. So I cracked open the second container and sprinkled away. I did the whole 50 foot border with a visible layer of cayenne. (giggle, giggle) I walked triumphantly back to the porch.

Take that, gato. So Alex asked me, "Mama, what if the pepper doesn't work? What are you gonna do to the cat if he digs again?" Jokingly, I said "I'm gonna grab him by the tail, swing him around my head, and chuck him over the fence!" Everyone burst into laughter at the thought. Just then, I felt something crawling INSIDE my pants. Not on my pants. IN my pants. Not way down by my ankle, or by my knee, we're talking past my crotch, crawling on my stomach. So I said Oh My GOD! THERE'S SOMETHING IN MY PANTS! I put my hand over the crawly thing and tried to psych myself up to look inside. I was terrified it was going to be a huge spider (I am SOOOOOO arachnophobic). I peeked into my pants (luckily they were sweats, not jeans, so they were pretty loose) and saw a freakin' huge black and yellow hornet. I wasn't expecting that. I kinda wished it had been a spider, in a way. Or some other bug. Not really a hornet. So I literally pulled my pants down on the porch in broad daylight and was frantically flipping them trying to extract the stunned hornet. I've heard of having a bee in your bonnet, but I had a very large bee somewhere I was not comfortable with. So I eventually ended up getting it out of my pants and regaining my composure (and my decency).

The kids and my mom were laughing hysterically. Then my mom posed the real question... Where exactly DID that hornet come from?!? The only thing we could figure out was that it must have crawled up my pants leg without me knowing it. Scary. I had the creeps for the rest of the day. I was a little defeated because I thought maybe that was a sign for how my peppering was going to work. Maybe I'd wake up and find my indoor plants had been dug in or something... Because if a hornet can make it all the way to my stomach inside my pants... well, now I'm itching again.

Luck was on my side. The next morning I woke up to one bit of dirt on my porch, and one tuft of shredded bark out of the sidewalk border. I hope that cat sneezed all the way home. Haven't had a problem since. Stick to it Wiley... One day you'll catch that Roadrunner slippin'.

Justice, Karma style

2007-02-13T09:07:00.000-08:00

I have seen it before, so I believe it is true. People will always get their due, good or bad. You just have to wait for it.

I will spare you the long story, because it is not very funny. Ok, it is not funny at all. And I get mad every time I re-tell it. In a nutshell, we took our car in for service, and somebody who works for the dealership stole about $10 in change from the coin tray and 2 ink pens. I mean the coin tray was clean, not even lint in the bottom. So after I wrote letters to the company, called their customer satisfaction department, basically everything I could do to bring attention to the incident (and let them know the local service manager never returned our calls and was always mysteriously "unavailable" when we went down to talk to him...) I at least felt like eventually MAYBE someone would look into it.

Well, one better than that happened. My dad and his partner went to do a warrant service on a guy. After they arrested him, my dad asked him where he was employed. He said he had been laid off from the very dealership we had had a problem with. So naturally, my dad said "Laid off, or fired?" The guy said, "well, fired..." Why, you ask? Get this... HE GOT CAUGHT STEALING CHANGE OUT OF CARS AT THE DEALERSHIP!!! My dad said if only he'd had my pen, he could have charged him with possession of stolen property too. I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to prove he was not Dispatcher of the Year, nor a Communications Managers Association member...

So now I actually feel a little better. My very own Daddy arrested the guy who stole from me. Without even knowing to start with. K-A-R-M-A, K-A-R-M-A... GOoooooooooooo Karma!

Back Alley Potato Deals

2007-01-29T08:40:00.000-08:00

This past weekend was our friend "D's" birthday. She chose this Cuban restaurant that none of us had tried before. It can be risky to try out a new place with such a large group of people, but what the heck, right? There's always McDonald's if it's nasty. Turned out it was SO GOOD. So good in fact we will be going back more than once.

Part of my dinner was something called "Boniato Mash." Now, being spanish-speaking, I know that different cultures have different words for the same thing. In Mexico, a drinking straw is called a popote (po-po-tay), while in Central America it is called a pajilla (pa-hee-ya). So I was wondering if boniato was just the fancy Cuban word for potato. I ordered it anyway. When it came, it turned out to be sort of a flavor mix of sweet potato and yukon gold. VERY tasty. (Check it out, I am going to start ordering them.) So, not to disappoint, Mike asked one of the bussers (in Spanish) what the boniato mash had in it, so we could make it at home.

We call Mike the "King of Ching-a-Ling." It all started because at work people were always calling him to translate on calls or traffic stops. They would literally come on the radio and say "K12 I need you to ching-a-ling." Professional, not so much, but pretty funny. Anyway, that sort of evolved to include his knack for using cultural comraderie to work deals and favors. This is not something white folks possess. I could not walk into Wal Mart and be like "Hey Buddy, hook me up with a discount." It is kinda cool. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times we have called in the expert to get us something we need. I am starting to learn the art of ching-a-ling, but I am basically like a 3 year old Luke Skywalker to his Yoda.

Anyway, the busser at the boniato place tells Mike he can find out what's in the mash, but he could get in trouble, so he will have to be sneaky. A few minutes later, the busser came back and was whispering to Mike. At that point I was a little more than waist-deep in Mojitos so I was a little cloudy as to what was all going down. But I saw Mike typing in his palm pilot, so I think I have the recipe now. Next thing I know, Mike said something else, and the busser ran off hurriedly. Huh. So Mike told me, "He's gonna get us one." I was like "one what"? Back to my Mojito. So the girl end of the table was absorbed in conversation about God knows what because we kept jumping around, and something told me to look over to Mike's seat. I looked to my left, and saw what looked like a drug deal about to go down. I hear the busser say "Aqui lo tengo" (I've got it right here) and pulled what looked like a giant potato out of his apron. He was being very furtive about the whole thing, and kept looking around suspiciouly. Ok, slick, there's a good way to get caught. Then the waitress came up. He jammed the boniato back into his apron and practically ran across the restaurant. Oh My GOD! It was so funny. So the waitress left, and the busser snuck back over. He looked around quickly and passed the boniato to Mike under the table. Part of me felt like "Ha! We got it! Now run!" and the other part of me was like "He made the transaction! Move in! Move in!" So suppressed my urge to take him down and concealed the stolen Boniato in my purse (good thing I brought the big one). I also ended up with two Mojito menus for my brother in law so he can replicate the recipes at his bar.

(Note to family readers: I know it wasn't napkins or sugar, but I think I come by this honestly...)

It was so funny. I think it might be one of those "you had to be there" kinds of funny, but good stuff though. And try the boniato if you get a chance.

Let sleeping (dead) birds lie...

2007-01-23T11:30:00.000-08:00

I KNOW it has been a while. I got all your little e-mails... Where's the blog, Cinderella? Write something funny, Cinderella! Cindereeeeeella!

OK, so now that I got promoted, and I actually have time to do my work without interruption, I realized Mike's ADD has rubbed off. I can't concentrate on one thing for more than 5 minutes before I start to Easter Bunny (see below). I mean, I was used to doing 16 things at once for so many years that I guess I have to re-learn how to concentrate.

[Easter Bunny (ē-stur buh-nē) verb: Sidetracking while given a specific task. (I went to get my wife something to drink, but I hella Easter Bunny’d and ended up doing the dishes instead.)

Origin: In the early 2000’s, Adult ADD became a popular disorder to diagnose. Drug companies inundated our televisions with advertisements for synthetic drugs to cure peoples’ lack of focus. One such advertisement showed a lady in a business meeting. Instead of listening to the presenter at her meeting, she is flooded, at breakneck speed, with visualizations of her daily routines. One of the many things that flash into her “reality” is a very large pink and white Easter Bunny. Hence the phrase “Easter Bunny-ing.”]

Anyway, now that you have a little insight on my kooky brain, here's my title story:

Alex and Madi have been all fired up about getting a pet. First it was a cat. That didn't work out, so (with a little MiMi influence... OK, a LOT of MiMi influence) they ended up with hermit crabs. Those were creepy and they stunk really bad. Oh, and I almost froze them to death. But with a little warm water, they came out of hibernation and went to live with our friends who have a daycare and lots of kids who like creepy crawly stuff. Madi got on the cat kick again, she wanted a kitten really bad. As much fun as that would be, the litter box was gross and I can’t stand that litter smell. Short of leaving it outside, we are not getting a cat.

What harm could a bird be, right? I always had birds growing up. They chirped, and made happy little birdie noises all day long. Ok, let’s get a bird. That’s what I thought. Off to the pet store we went, kids in tow, in search of the perfect little bird. Alex wanted a blue one. Actually, Alex wanted a condor. “I saw one on TV. Diego has a condor. We should get a condor. They are nice.” That was specifically what he said. After I explained the spatial requirements of keeping a condor, and the types of food it may eat, etc, he settled for a turquoise blue parakeet. We chose the cutest one from the cage at Petco. It seemed great, cute face, didn’t look all mangey like some of them did. It was no condor, but both kids agreed it would do.

We got into the car after buying all our birdie accessories and started trying to think of names for the new bird. I think we must have gone through a million – Tweety, Rufus P. Funk, Birdie, etc. Finally, Alex said “I think we should name him Scoop.” We all just kind of sat there, taking it in. For some reason it seemed like the perfect name. Made no sense at all, but it worked. So Scoop he was. At first, we took the bird out a lot, it sat on the kids’ shoulders, fingers, crawled on the floor, etc. It was cool. Alex cleaned up after him with the dust buster. Every day, he would go down to the play room and see seed shells and bird dust on the table. He’d say “Just look at this mess!” Then he’d go get the hand vacuum and suck it all up. Good responsibility for him.

Scoop was not a “tweety” bird. In fact, the only noise Scoop ever made was when you’d stick your hand in the cage to give him food/water. He made this awful chit-chit-chit-chit noise over and over REALLY loud until you removed your “evil digits of doom” and left the cage. Mean ass bird. We stopped letting him out because he kept trying to hide under the sofa bed. Do you know how hard it is to coax a bird out from under a sofa bed?!? Especially when a slobbering, 90 pound German eating machine is waiting for said bird to come out? Not easy.

I went to work on this past Friday. Momma was at our house with the kids. When she arrived, Scoop’s water dish (which I SWEAR I filled the day before) was completely dry. He was huddled under the food dish in the corner. As I am told, Momma grabs the bird, who lies listlessly on her chest. She figures he is on his last leg, and puts him back in the cage. He sits on his perch. At approximately 0947 hrs, she hears a small thud in the cage. When she goes to investigate, she finds Scoop lying on the bottom of the cage, claws up. I get a text message. “I have bad news.” So, naturally curious as I am, I text back, “Call me.” She texts “I can’t.” Bull shit-ake mushrooms you can’t. What does that mean, right? So I called.

Me: What is the news? You can’t just leave me hanging like that.

Momma: Well, the kids are here…

(I sense now that this is why she can’t tell me… I am so sharp…)

Momma: Scoop is, um, sleeping on the bottom of the cage.

(Adult translation: The bird kicked the bucket, I had to tell them it was sleeping.)

So the conversation goes on cryptically, to avoid telling them that the bird not in fact sleeping, it is actually deader than a door nail. We agree to leave it at that until I arrive home and can delicately explain nature, life, death, etc. (Hey, why not throw in how babies are made, right?) At about 1530, I get another text message. “They are asking about Scoop. Do you want me to tell them or what?” So I text back “No. Just cover it up and I’ll take care of it.” I don’t like to give the kids garbage excuses or sugar coated explanations for things (to an age appropriate level, of course). I think it makes you seem more credible if what you tell them is really true and they don't find out later you were making stuff up. I figured if I was able to explain the bloody photos they found of Mike’s car accident without causing nightmares, a bird’s untimely death would be a piece of cake. Right…

So I get home and walk into the playroom. Both kids put their little fingers up and go “Shhhh! Scoop is sleeping!” Aw, you are breakin’ my heart guys. I peeked into the covered cage and he was in rigor. There was no mistaking it. It is not like he’d somehow miraculously peck himself out of a shallow grave or suddenly sit up on the birdie coroner’s table. He was DOA. So, I call Alex over and ask him to sit on my lap.

Me: Alex, hunny, I have some bad news for you.

Alex: What, Mama?

Me: Scoop is not sleeping.

Alex: He isn’t? (Looks at MiMi, then looks at the cage)

Me: No, sweetheart, Scoop is dead.

Alex: DEAD? (Starts to process the information…)

Me: Yes, not alive. Scoop is not alive anymore.

Alex: Well, OK, then we have to put some energy back in him.

Me: (fighting back laughing) I wish it worked like that, but it doesn’t. Dead is… well, dead is just dead. It is permanent.

Alex: No, we can get him some energy and put it in him.

Me: How do you suggest we do that?

Alex: Batteries!

Me: (I should have seen that coming…) Hahaha! Scoop doesn’t have batteries, sweetie, Scoop was alive, like you or me. His battery was his heart, and it is out of juice. There is nothing we can do to start him up again.

Alex: Oh, well ok, then maybe we can pump air into him until he wakes up.

Me: Um, …

Mike: Hey buddy, you know how when you have a balloon and it pops, it is just gone? You can’t bring it back?

Alex: Yah.

Mike: Well, it’s like that.

Alex: (Sad little face) Oh. Okay… (hangs his head down)

About 3 seconds pass of awkward, sad silence…

Alex: Hey! Can we get another bird then?!?! That would be SO COOL!

Me: I guess you are over it, huh? Let’s bury Scoop and go get a new bird.

So I ask the kids to go play while I prepared the bird for burial. Madi scampered off, but Alex said “No. I want to watch.” I told him he would probably be better off just going to play and I’d let him know when Scoop was ready for his funeral. Alex refused. He said, get this… “No, I want to watch you. I want to see his eyes.” SICKO! That’s totally my kid right there. Must witness the carnage. So I scooped dead Scoop into a little box and off we went to the back yard. The kids said bye to Scoop and back to Petco we went. This time we came home with a heat lamp (I think lack of heat may have contributed to Scoop’s demise) and two birds. A green and yellow one for Madi (which she named “Cheep”) and a darker blue one for Alex (which he named “Zazu” after the bird from The Lion King). These two birds chirp and sing and play, not like old Scoop.

Anyway, that is the story of the dead bird. The new birds are great, and the kids have forgotten all about the dead one. Life goes on.

K9 Trials

2006-10-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

So, the 2006 K9 trials went well. Mike and Nitro placed 9th overall, out of 48 people. In the Novice category (less than 3 years K9 experience and no prior awards) they placed 2nd and got a nice trophy. No more Novice next year! They placed 5th overall in the obstacles (the dog does a series of obstacles while also following obedience commands). The obstacle trophy was a nice engraved glass plaque with a etched picture of a dog going over an A-Frame. There were some funny things that happened there. Since Mike got Nitro, I have said it is very similar to raising children. Nitro knows when he is disobeying, and gives the same look as Alex does. That "I-know-you-are-watching-but-can-I-get-away-with-this" look, and when he gets the evil-eye, he sulks off to his bed and lets out a loud sigh. He's just a big furry kid that we actually allow to bite people.

Anyway, the first challenge of the two-day trial is obedience. There is a pre-set list of things the handler has to do with the dog to show his basic obedience skills (and the handler's ability to follow directions...). First, 10 handlers go to this large field with their dogs. All the dogs must be muzzled to avoid the potential for dog fights (not all police dogs like other police dogs). They give them the command to lie down and stay, and the dog has to do just that while all the handlers go hide behind a small shack for 5 minutes. Each time, two of the ten dogs would get up and run to see where their handler had gone. The remaining 8 would stay and wait for the exercise to finish. Nitro's group had the same fate. You could see, looking at Nitro, what was going through his head...

Nitro: Kommen Sie auf, Vater, gehen hinlegt für eine Weile!
(Come on, Dad, let's go lay down for a while!)

Mike: Platz! Blieb! (walks away with other handlers)

Nitro: (to neighbor dog) Deshalb wie um sie Tiger, eh? Denkt, dass sie die Serie nehmen werden?
(So, how 'bout them Tigers, eh? Think they'll take the series?)

Other dog: Ich muss Fund mein Vater gehen... wo würde er gehen? Haben Sie ihn gesehen? Wo ist Ihr Vater?
(I gotta go find my dad... where'd he go? Did you see him? Where's your dad?)

Other dog runs off...

Nitro: Dummkopf! Sie werden angenommen, hier zu warten. Muss neu sein.
(Jackass! You're supposed to wait here. Must be new.)

(Nitro tries to swipe the muzzle off his face)

Nitro: Ich hasse diesen dummen Korb!
(I hate this stupid basket!)

(2nd dog stands up and looks around)

Nitro: Groß, ein ander FNG... Affe sehen, macht Affe
(Great, another FNG... Monkey see, monkey do.)

(2nd dog runs off, Nitro fights with muzzle some more)

Nitro: Noch hat diesen Korb auf meinem Gesicht erhalten... Es ist, nicht wie ich Dr. Lechter oder etwas bin. Ich werde ihre Leber mit fava Bohnen nicht essen
(Still got this basket on my face... It's not like I'm Dr. Lechter or something. I won't eat their livers with fava beans)

Czech dog: Odpustit mne! Does někdo mluvit Čech?
(Excuse me! Does anyone speak Czech?)

Silence....

Czech dog: Um am JÁ domnímivaaný až k spravedlivý zůstat zde či doprovázet those druhý dva dogs?
(Um, am I supposed to just stay here or follow those other two dogs?)

Nitro: Ausländer. SEIEN Sie NUR RUHIG UND WARTEZEIT.
(Foreigner. JUST BE QUIET AND WAIT...) (He thought it a little louder and slower so the Czech dog could understand)

Czech dog: Dobře , ona ne pomoci. Dohad čekat zde.
(Well, they're no help. Guess I'll wait here.)

(Handlers walk out)

Nitro: Schließlich! Es handelt von Zeit. Dieser Tourist wird nicht abschließen.
(Finally! It's about time. This tourist won't shut up.)

They all get up and walk off in line. Nitro did well, he stayed put right where he was supposed to. Then each handler did their obedience routine. Some of the dogs we galloping around like they were waiting to play, some just plain didn't listen at all, some did just what they were supposed to. Nitro did good. He had to be reminded to sit once, but other than that, it was great.

Part two was the obstacles, and like I said, they came in 5th out of 48. The dog has to climb an A frame, wait 3 seconds, then climb back over and sit at the handler's feet. Next, the handler tosses a toy over a small, solid fence. The dog must hop over, retrieve the toy, hop back over, return the toy and sit at the handler's feet. Next, the dog must hop a small chain link fence and lay down on the other side. (A lot of dogs refuse to jump fences they can see through because they want to go around. Weird.) Next is a small 50-gallon drum, open on both ends, sitting on top of an "X" shaped platform (about 4 feet in the air). The dog has to jump through the barrel and lay down on the other side. Finally, an "L" shaped tube that is dark inside, the dog has to run through and lay down just outside the tube. Some of the trainers elected not to do the obstacles in order to minimize risk of jumping injuries to their dogs. Most people did them, though.

Next day was handler protection and searching. The handler protection involved decoys dressed in full bite suits, gunfire, etc. It tests the dog's courage and drive and how well they respond to threats, etc. It also tests whether or not a dog will release a bite when commamded to do so.

The final event was the search. It is by far my favorite event. They put all the handlers and their dogs in this huge barn and sequester them until it is their turn. They cordon off part of the field, then hide a decoy. This year there were 4 small wooden boxes, a truck full of garbage, a small red car with it's doors open, and a "blind" (A "V" shaped barricade used to hide behind). They hid the decoy in the blind, then put a piece of plywood over the open side so the dog could not attack the decoy. The dog and handler get 3 minutes to locate the suspect. The catch is the handler does not know if they are right until the event is over. They never see the suspect. The handler has to read his dog and trust the dog's nose. Nitro tied for 5th place in points in this event, but had a slightly slower time than the other 5th place dog, so ended up in 6th place. It was so funny to watch. Some dogs indicated and their handlers called them off the blind. Some dogs just ran around for 3 minutes, and one dog got inside the small car and honked the horn with his butt! I'd say about 25% of the handlers correctly called the suspect location, 25% timed out after 3 minutes, and the other 50% called the incorrect location. Far cry from last year when everyone called correctly but one who was wrong and one who timed out.

It is a really fun two days and we can't wait until the next trial.

Parent of a Toddler

2006-09-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

You can always pick out the parents of toddlers, no matter where you go. Being the parent of 2 toddlers, it is a lot easier for me to pick out other parents. Here is a guide for those of you who aren't sure how to tell...

A group of friends are standing around, munching on snacks, talking. One friend passes gas and it makes a small noise. The other friends politely ignore it, except one who shouts "Eeeeew! Tooty-booty!" (Dad of a toddler)

A lady is at the mall with her 2 children and enters an upscale department store which employs a pianist. There are several people standing around the piano area, appreciating the music. The pianist is playing Fur Elise. The lady decides to stop so her children can get a taste of the "finer" things... The children listen intently for about 15 seconds, then the little girl decides to share her vocal talent. She breaks into a round of "B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-OOOOOOOH... aaaaaand Bingo was his name, OH!" The lady, now being a seasoned vet of enduring embarrassing moments, calmly walks off with the kids while joining in.. "(clap)-I-N-G-O, (clap)-I-N-G-O, (clap)-I-N-G-O, aaaand Bingo was his name, OH!" (definately a toddler's mom).

Three ladies get together for a girl's lunch. They are dressed nicely. One lady has a banana sticker on her butt. Chiquita. Ecuador. Toddler's mom.

A couple go out for a nice dinner. After the meal, the woman reaches into her cocktail purse to freshen her lipstick. Instead of her usual tube, she pulls out a small plastic kitty and a pair of Dora panties. Toddler's mom on dress-up day.

A handsome looking guy is walking down the street with a cute little boy. The guy has on a black t-shirt with strange white-ish streaks on the right side, near the hem. Toddler's dad (forgot the pack of Kleenex).

Getting the picture? See, it's really not that hard to spot...

Hurricane John

2006-09-08T17:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm sure most of you know, we were in the Cabo San Lucas area when Hurricane John hit this past week. What luck, right? I mean, it did disrupt our vacation plans, but you can't really book a natural disaster, you know? So we thought it was kind of cool. Our vacation started great, we relaxed a lot, went parasailing, went horseback riding on the beach, and did some sight seeing. Mike and I went scuba diving at Land's End (the famous arch)which is right where the Sea of Cortez meets the Pacific ocean. Anyway, it was fun. Everything started to close down on Thurday afternoon. Windows were boarded up and taped, all the shops were closed, it basically looked like a ghost town. Our resort was closer to San Jose del Cabo, which is about 12 miles or so North of Cabo San Lucas, in the upscale resort area. The hurricane's eye made landfall about 14 miles north of where we were. The hurricane force winds extended 25 miles from the eye, so we were in the thick of it pretty much. On Friday, we waited for the hurricane to make landfall and watched a lot of CNN. It seemed like every hour they said it would hit within the next hour. It finally hit late in the day, and it was dark by the time it was in full force, so we didn't really get to watch it much. During the day, there were about 6 crazy mo-fo's surfing in the ocean outside the resort. The waves were huge. The resort staff had brought in a bulldozer and dug a trench on each side of the resort out to the ocean. We were told it would prevent mud from covering the resort, since all the rainfall and mudslides that came down the hills across the highway had to go somewhere. Sure enough, when it was over, the ocean was brown, the trenches were three times as deep as when they had started, and our resort was nice and clean. They really knew what they were doing down there. Anyway, here are some pictures from the storm.
This is before it made landfall:

This is the roadway during the heavy rain. Looked much worse after...

Here is just a pretty shot of the waves and the ominous sky:

These are the crazy mo-fo's:

Fountain of Youth

2006-08-11T16:29:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! Call off the search party, I am still kickin'...

Anyway, check this out for the "Sooper Stoopid" file... Two weeks ago, the kids had this icky thing called Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. It was pretty nasty, and seemed painful. They had these blisters on their tongue and inside the mouth, and red spots on their hands and feet. Anyway, the gross details of the illness are not important. We decided to take the kiddies to the doctor, because they were not eating or drinking, and it was right in the middle of that big heat wave we were having. So the doctor's office made us an appointment to be seen within the hour. Sweet!

Since the office is right around the corner from the house, we all set out walking. We walked into the office and the kids went for the books and toys, Mike took a seat next to them. I went to the counter to check them in.

I wrote their names on the sheet. Alex C. Madi C. I waited for the desk clerk so I could pay the copay. I hadn't seen her there before, maybe she was new. She looked at me, frowned, looked in the waiting area... Then the twilight zone conversation started.

Lady: So... you guys just came down?

Me: (???) Um, yah, we walked over... (Is that what she's asking me?)

Lady: I mean, you came without your parents?

Me: (Blank stare)

Lady: (Irritated) Your parents are supposed to come too.

(Now the other reception lady is looking at her too. Ok, good. It's not just me who is totally confused.)

Me: I'm sorry, I don't get it.

Lady: Well, technically your parents should come with you.

Me: I AM the parent.

Lady: You are?

Me: Yes. (Pointing to Alex and Madi) Those are the children. I am the mom. (Pointing to Mike) That is the dad.

Other Lady: (In an exasperated tone to Lady #1) Those aren't the patients. She's the mother.

Lady: OH!!! I thought you were like, a 17 year old patient or something! HA HA HA!

Me: Well, I guess that's the nicest compliment I'll probably hear today. Considering I'm nearly double that age...

Lady: Well, you guys look so young!

Now, I look in the mirror every day. I look young (thanks, Olay Regenerist!) but I DON'T look 17. I don't even get carded for liquor anymore. How retardo was that lady. Anyway, I just thought that was funny.

Thanks to Madagascar...

2006-06-01T09:33:00.000-07:00

Oh boy do I have some stories for you guys...

First, let's start where my son tried to rob my daughter at knifepoint...
The kids were in the playroom, playing with their toys. Alex is always trying to swipe every toy Madi has, so she has learned to defend herself and her toys from the big bully. In this case, Alex was busy playing with his little kitchen set. Madi was happily pretending with her Dora the Explorer action figures. Then, Alex noticed that Madi had one particular action figure, Diego, and he wanted it.

Alex: Madi, give me Diego!

Madi: No!

(Alex grabs plastic chef's knife from the play kitchen, and takes a fighting stance, one arm extended with the knife)

Alex: Madi! Give me the Diego or I'll cut 'ya!

Madi: You no cut-a-me! (raises tiny little hand and whacks Alex over the head)

Alex dropped the knife and started yelling at her, grabbed her with both arms and started squeezing her really hard. She started fighting back, flailing her arms to get free. My mom had to step in and break them up and confiscate the "weapon." It sits to this day on the top shelf of the book case.

On to story #2...

Last week we had a garage sale, and my grand plan was to keep the kids busy by setting them up with their very own bake sale booth, and have them sell cupcakes and drinks. I told Alex about the plan, and told him he could sell cupcakes to the people who came to the sale, and he could keep any money he made for his piggy bank. Madi, overhearing that there was money involved, piped up and said, "I want some money, too!" So I told her she could help Alex sell... Then the little entrepreneur went to work. He decided to hire himself an employee. He said, "Ok, Madi, you can help me. But if you don't sell, you don't get anything!" Talk about a tough comission!

And the grand finale...

If you have seen the movie Madagascar, you remember the part where Julien, the Lemur King, breaks out in song and dance to "I like to move it, move it." Don't know the song? Click here (cute video too, if you decide to watch). Anyway, on Monday, Memorial Day, we decided to take the kids to Great America. We were originally planning to go to Bonfante Gardens, but we decided on Great America instead. There were a lot of people there, but not too many to enjoy it. It was a nice day outside, but had a little breeze, so it was not as excruciating as Great America can be in the dead of summer when it gets to 100 degrees on the blacktop. I digress. So, ever since Alex saw Madagascar a couple weeks ago, he has been singing this "I like to move it move it" song. It drives me NUTS. He repeats himself over and over, at the top of his lungs, until I am absolutely ready to burst, then he does it some more. Usually it ends with me threatening some type of harm if he doesn't stop LOL. He sang it in the car all the way to Great America, he sang it in the parking lot, he sang it in the stroller... I had to ask him to stop singing that damn song. Seriously, I couldn't take any more. So we walk all the way across the parking lot, Alex and Madi in the double stroller we recently got out of storage. We got to the line and were waiting to buy our tickets. The line was about 20 deep in each of the 15 or so lines. There were a LOT of people waiting. The kids were starting the day out well. They were behaving nicely, being patient, and surprisingly quiet. Next thing I knew, Alex shouts at the top of his lungs "1, 2, 3, 4... I LIKE TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! I LIKE TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! YA LIKE TO MOVE IT!" Madi was dancing in her seat, Alex was doing this whole dance-arm-wave thing in his seat. He repeated it again, "I LIKE TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! I LIKE TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! YA LIKE TO MOVE IT!" The girl in line next to us, who looked to be about 16, started dancing to his song. Then her friends started dancing too, encouraging him to sing even louder. I didn't want to tell him to be quiet, because it was a park, after all, and people seemed to be enjoying it. But I had this overwhelming urge to bury my head under something, or yell out "Who's child is this? Someone lose a little singing boy?" All Mike and I could do was laugh about it. Every day since, at least 4 times per day, Alex and Madi ask to watch Madagascar. Madi picked up the DVD case for it and pointed to the Lemur and said "He likes to move it move it too!"

I guess you could say there is never a dull moment in our neck of the woods.

American Idol

2006-05-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

So, my guiltiest pleasure is my love of "reality" TV. Now I know it is as far from "reality" as you can possibly get, but still, it is average people doing above average things, and it is pretty cool. I actually had a friend in college who was on Road Rules on MTV. The Australia one. She said it was an absolutely horrible experience. The travel was cool, but the execs would try to encite feuds and make drama to keep the show interesting. I actually never watched the show, even though she was on it. At the time I was really into WCW wrestling, and they were on at the same time. She told me it was nice to see someone who didn't want to talk to her about last week's episode... LOL

Anyway, let me weigh in on the latest developments on A.I. First, my favorite got voted off last week. I picked Chris to win from the very beginning. He is an awesome singer. I was initially shocked and totally pissed off when he got voted off. I was among the many crying conspiracy, and re-count, and wondering if there was some ulterior motive for him being "voted" off. Ok, now I'm over it. He's totally going to be successful anyway, and I'll buy his CD when it comes out.

Now let's talk about this week... Our Tivo had not downloaded program information, so we missed part of the performances. We saw enough to get by though. Then last night, we were recording the season finale of the Amazing Race, so we didn't Tivo A.I. I tried to set the VCR in our bedroom to record it, but seriously, how long has it been since I used a VCR to record something?!? Or used a VCR period?!? So I did it wrong, and it recorded an hour of static. Luckily, everyone else saw it and I have been fully filled in.

Mike's favorite, Katharine, is still in the running, so our yearly "my favorite vs. your favorite" trash-talking is not a factor this year. I also really like Katharine, and would be totally OK with her winning. Then there's Taylor. I have liked Taylor from the beginning. I am very surprised at how far he's gone, and how much he has improved vocally over the months. I never thought he'd be in the finals.

Elliott. Where do I start... I heard there was a little drama behind his exit as well. Here's an excerpt from a secret letter he received:

Dear Elliott,

Your brothers and I really miss your elfin magic. We want you to come home right away! The fudge shoppe just isn't the same without you. Please give the enclosed box of cookies to Taylor and tell him we're part of the Soul Patrol.

Sincerely,
Ernie Keebler
Head Elf

Ok, maybe that was a little mean. But not as mean as what one of our co-workers said. He said "Elliott looks like he's been eating too much corn through the fence." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I don't know exactly what that means, but the visual is great! Everyone is saying what a great singer he is, but every time I watch him, he looks so nervous I expect him to pee himself. He's even less believable than Clay. Even though Clay did not win, my boy Ruben turned out to be somewhat of a dud, so it seems like Clay was more the winner... (although this is no concession to Mike that Ruben is still better.) All I've seen Ruben do since winning was an appearance on Sesame Street to sing the ABCs. And I think he put out a record, I seem to remember a song called "This is my sorry for 2004." Well, it should be, because the song was sorry.

So we'll see what the big finale brings. Katharine or Taylor... either way it's a good season!

The cat was short-lived

2006-05-18T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ok, maybe that's a bad name for this post... The cat is still alive, just not in our house. We had to take her back. Turns out my dad really IS allergic to cats. Hell of a way to see if he was bluffing, huh? Anyway, the two times he came over after we got the cat, he left a miserable mess. The cat also made my asthma flare up worse than it already was... I can't imagine why. Oh, maybe waking up at 3am with a cat on my pillow wasn't good for my allergies.

All joking aside, I feel HORRIBLE about having to return her. I promised the lady we would keep her and love her and while we did love her, I ultimately had to decide between health and the cat we'd had less than a week. I was afraid the kids would be really crushed, but I think they forgot about it already. They're back to playing with their toys instead of tormenting a cat.

Anyway, that is all I have to say about that.

The cat's out of the bag... wait, no it's not.

2006-05-13T18:42:00.000-07:00

I have had no luck with pictures before, but I will try again.

And India was her naaaaaame-oh!

2006-05-13T17:28:00.000-07:00

We got a cat. I know, many of you are thinking, "Hey, don't you guys have a big dog?" Why yes, we do have a big dog, but we're always up for adventure. Here's how this all happened...

Week 1
My mom brought us a flyer from Petco advertising Chinchillas. She thought it would be "nice" if the kids had one. So we went to 3 different Petco's for the various adopt-a-chinchilla events.
Problem# 1: What the hell is a chinchilla? What does it come from? It looks like mutant bunny meets giant hamster.
Problem #2: *WHAT* is that smell? Can one animal could possibly smell so horribly? It smelled like it was wearing a litter box.
Problem #3: Is that the noise it is always going to make, or are you squeezing it too hard?
Problem #4: 1 month after seeing the chinchilla, Alex still claims that every time he has an itch, "it's from the chinchilla."

So we did not get a chinchilla. Thank goodness.

Week 2
We were moving, so we were off the hook for pet looking

Week 3
Hey, you moved into your new house! You guys should get a cat for the kids. Momma brings a newspaper clipping that the local shelter is having a "black and white" pet adoption event. Apparently, people don't adopt enough pets that have black or black/white fur. They say because of superstition (cats), or that they look mean (dogs) so people don't readily adopt them. Um, yah, I'm busy this week... I don't have time to go get a cat, I'm unpacking... (did I mention I'm not really a cat person?)

Week 4
Momma brings a Petsmart ad. The shelter is hosting an adopt-a-cat event at the local Petsmart. I should go when I get off work and get one to surprise the kids. Friday: Ooops! I forgot! Soooooo-rrrryyyyy...
Saturday: Momma suggests we go after work to the cat adoption. She puts on "the face" and I can't say no. We go to the cat adoption, and we come home with adoption papers for India, a 5-mo old black kitty.
Wednesday: India comes home after being "fixed." (No, we did not adopt a busted cat, she got spayed.) We were told to keep her still, in her carrier or in the bathroom, for 7-10 days until she completely heals. Wednesday night, I put her in the downstairs bathroom.
Thursday: We go to work, Momma tends to kids and cat. Opens bathroom door to find litter everywhere, kitty paw prints on the window, sink, toilet, mirror, etc. So much for keeping still. Mess is cleaned, cat is re-secured.
Friday: Cat is allowed to play in downstairs area. Cat does not follow vet instructions well. Does not understand "keep still." Quickly learns that playing in the litter is inappropriate behaviour. Cat learns about cat-door cut in screen by previous owner. Cat learns dog is in back yard. Cat does not re-attempt escape. Dog learns cat is inside. Dog keeps jumping in front of the window to see cat. Cat hisses at dog. Dog doesn't care, keeps leaping and peeping. Madi decides it is the cat's birthday. She puts a toy frying pan on the cat's head and sings her Happy Birthday. The cat plays along.
Saturday: Cat is definately fine, healing-wise. Cat is very tolerant. Cat is not ladylike... Cat lays on her back, spread-eagle, Alex tells cat "Close your legs, nobody wants to see your pee pee!" Cat will be shown entire house, and allowed to roam around. Cat is fast, and likes to play in bags.

So far, that's our cat experience. She is very loving, and we have a picture of her and Alex asleep together on the couch. She loves the kids, and thinks it is great to curl up and sleep on them. Cat keeps them out of trouble... and keeps them B-U-S-Y!!!

Hi Guys!

2006-04-29T13:36:00.000-07:00

Well, if you don't already know, we've moved!!! It's going well, we're all adjusting to a very large house and new surroundings. The kids have their own rooms, and they love it. Makes bedtime easier too. They can't keep each other up playing and talking. So, as soon as we get more settled, there will be more blogs to come. But here's one short, funny story in the mean time.

Alex and Madi went on a field trip with their preschool/daycare yesterday. They came over to the PD and to a local fire station for a tour. First, they went to the fire station. The Fire Captain had plastic fire hats for all the kids, and they all put them on and were excited to be wearing them. Until, that is, he got to Alex. Here is what took place, as I understand it (after all, I wasn't there)

Fire Captain (FC): Here you go, put this hat on, like a fireman.

Alex: No thank you.

FC: Don't you want to wear the hat?

Alex: No thanks, I don't want one.

(At this point, our friend "D," who put the trip together, took the hat and offered it again to Alex, thinking maybe he didn't want it because the FC was a stranger...)

D: Here, buddy, just put it on.

Alex: (Snatches the hat) NO! I don't want to be a fireman! You keep it! (throws hat at FC)

Yikes! So I asked "D", does the captain know he's my kid? Why yes, of course he does. Then, Alex and the kids came to the police station and Alex was all about wearing his plastic police badge. He was walking around calling himself "Policeman Alex." That's right, buddy, you tell him how it is. Everyone loves the firemen, hates the cops... Not my boy, he's blue through and through... :)

April Fool!

2006-04-06T09:18:00.000-07:00

Normally, I am not a fan of April Fool's jokes. Once when I was a kid, about 12 or so, I thought it would be funny to saran wrap the toilet, trying to get my Dad... Well, we (yes, Ma, you were in on it) put the toilet seat lid down, which tipped him off to our joke, since the lid was NEVER down. So he got away free from splashes. Anyway, after that backfire, I figured I was a failed prankster and never really tried again. Until this year. I decided to pull a prank on Mike, hoping that his sleepy, just-getting-off-of-night-shift routine would come through for me. Every morning when he gets home, he fills Nitro's food bowls, brings them into the kitchen, sets them on the counter, and turns on the kitchen faucet full blast to warm the water, then covers the food with water to soften it up.

Before I left for work, I was diligently at work in the kitchen. I was trying to rubber band the spray nozzle in the kitchen sink. I couldn't make it work, when my mom suggested I use scotch tape instead. Great Idea!! She got me a long strip of scotch tape, and I got to wrapping. It was perfect. You could not tell the sprayer had anything on it. I stood in front of the sprayer, and aimed it where I wanted it to hit. I left the rest up to Mike and his routine.

Waiting for the result of the prank has got to be worse than the surprise of being pranked.

Anyway, some time after he arrived home, I got a phone call. All he said was "Of course you know, this means war." I also heard hysterical laughter and snorting from the background, which I could only assume was my mom having seen the outcome. Then he hung up. I went about my day.

At about 1045, I got a call at work. First, let me clarify. My prank was a harmless mischief. A little fun with H2O. But apparently some people don't like being sprayed in the belly/crotch region early in the morning with cold water. Whatever.
As I was saying, I got a call at work. Just run of the mill stuff. Some company calling to report a reposession. So I create an event for the call in our computer system. Nothing out of the ordinary. Here's our conversation:

Lady: Hi, I'd like to report a repo.

Me: From where?

Lady: Um, looks like Main St... No address though.

Me: Ok, that's fine. That's just right outside the Police Station. Go ahead with the vehicle information.

Lady: The plate is personalized, it's ABC123, a champagne colored Chevy Tahoe.

Me: (Sensing a joke... that's my plate/car) So now, you are from WHAT company?

Lady: From Big Time Auto Recovery.

Me: Riiiiight... and what's the phone number there?

Lady: It's xxx-xxx-xxxx (the actual phone number of the actual company)

Me: Ok. (Thinking...)

Lady: He told me to call before he left, that's what we're supposed to do...

Me: Yah, I know what you're supposed to do. What's your name?

Lady: Um.. Jane

(Now I know who the accomplice is.... I just need to nail her...)

Me: Ok, Jane, so this car is being repo'd right now?

Lady: Yah, the tow truck is waiting for me to advise you.

Me: Yah, alright.

Lady: Don't you want the last 4 of the VIN?

Me: No, I think I've got it. (I hang up on her)

So while I am taking that call, in walks our friend, "C." (Yes, "C," you get a pass this time. I will protect the "innocent." But next time, it's on like Donkey Kong, my friend.) I am in the middle of calling my house, where there is no answer. I call Mike's cell phone, which rings with a little "bong" at the end of each ring, telling me he's on the other line. I leave a message, something to the effect of "Hey, jackass, did you really think I'd fall for the repo'd car bit? Very funny. Nice try. You're not gonna get me."

Anyway, "C" pulls up a chair. He is very nonchalant, says "Hey, what's up?"

Me: Nothing. Mike is trying to get me back for the water incident by having someone call to say they repo'd my Tahoe.

C: That's funny, when I came in I saw a tow truck outside.

Me: Yah right. I'm sure he probably told you to say that. Make me go look. Hahaha.

C: (snickering) No, really, I saw a tow truck. You'd better go look. (more snickers)

Me: I'm not going out there to look. There is no way my car is being repo'd. It's on automatic deduction. That's ridiculous.

C: Okaaaaaay, but I'm telling you, there's a tow truck out there. (trying to maintain a straight face) I'll cover for you. Go look.

Me: Fine. I'll walk outside and go see. Just to humor you.

I walk outside. My car was parked just to the right of the rear door the the Police Station. I peek out around the corner, and see my space empty, with the sound of a tow truck engine in the air. I stop for a second, assess my surroundings. He must be here somewhere. He would not want to miss this. Where is he.... I look around for Mike while making a cautious approach toward the empty parking space. I can now see the front end of my Tahoe, angled down toward the pavement, the rear end hooked up to a red tow truck. So I try sneaking up to it, so I can get the name of the tow company (I have no idea what I was planning to do with that information...) Just as I get ready to burst into a sprint toward the tow truck, the driver gasses it and hauls ass out of the parking lot, my car attached. So I watch it go, turn the corner, and leave. I turn, scratch my head, and walk... no, march... back into the police station. I head straight to dispatch. I don't even acknowledge "C" sitting there. I pick up the phone and call a neighboring agency where "Jane" works. I know it was her, Mike and her are friends. Has to be her. They pick up, I say "Is Jane working today?" Not hi, no how are you's, just business. They tell me she is not. Ok, I hang up. I call Mike's cell phone again. My back is to the door of dispatch. Just as his phone rolls to voicemail, and I start to say, "I don't care where it went, I don't care who took it, just bring it back..." Then, guess who sneaks up behind me... Mike and the fam! Happy April Fool's Day Hunny!

HAHAHA! Great joke! I squirt you with water, you have my car towed. Talk about escalation... Jeeeeeeee-sus! He was quite proud of himself, and I must admit, although I knew it was a prank, I was quite impressed with the resources he was able to pull together in such short notice.

So now it is my time to face the camera, and tell the world that Mike AKA Ashton Kutcher got me. Yes, everyone, that's right, I got Punk'd.

Wouldn't you just take the whole box?

2006-03-10T08:39:00.000-08:00

Alex's 3rd birthday just passed. Most of his gifts were toys. Have you even noticed the lengths toy makers go to to retain the toy in the box? I mean, the purpose of the item is to provide hours of joy and fun for a youngster. But before that can happen, it takes about an hour for the parent to fight said toddler away from said box containing said toy, which has been tied down to a snugly fitted plastic tray with no less than 43 plastic/wire ties that have been wound up together and are unable to be cut by any normal tool. When I was a kid, we did not have this. You bought a doll/action figure, you popped the box open, maybe there was one paper twistie around the doll's neck holding her up for display, but that could be defeated in about 3 seconds with a pair of scissors. These new ties are far more advanced than any scissor. I think they are made of some super strength poly-metal-alloy-blah-blah-blah invented by NASA. Then they are covered in plastic, a clever ploy by the scissor industry to trick you into thinking you can cut it, effectively ruining your scissors. Each time you think, "Oh, I'll just cut this, it's only plastic..." Crap! Now I have a big gouge in the blade of my scissor and it doesn't cut right... I guess I should just buy a new pair...

The toy Alex most wanted to open was a cast of characters from the movie Toy Story. He is big into Buzz Lightyear right now, so that was his party theme. After two days had passed, I still hadn't removed all the toys from their boxes. It tends to make someone feel a little guilty when their kid is playing with the box, still containing all the characters, making them talk to each other about how they can get out of the box... LOL So I set to work freeing all the characters from their anti-theft restraints. Mind you, I had just had shoulder surgery, so I was functioning with one arm and trying to maneuver my fingers on the busted arm to help me out. 45 minutes later, I had all the characters out of their box.

So this brings my question. I know the toys are secured in their boxes to prevent people from opening the box in the store and taking all the toys out and stealing them. But if you were going to steal something, wouldn't you just take the whole box? Even before the packaging got so fancy, isn't it easier to just hide the box under your coat and make a run for it? Seems better than hiding out in the aisle trying to dismantle the toy/box and then hide it and run anyway. But I guess if thieves were smart, I would be out of a job.

And then I saw the train… Now I’m a believer!

2006-02-10T10:52:00.000-08:00

Last night while I was at work, I got a call from Alex. He wanted to know if when we left the police station we could go see airplanes. There are a couple spots around we go to watch planes. So I told him we could go to the “big” airport on our way home and watch the planes come in. Well, thank goodness for Southwest Airlines. They have so many flights, it looks like seagulls at a bread convention. Seriously, like every 2 minutes there is a Southwest plane landing. Nearby there is an El Torito, so since we hadn’t had dinner, I took the kids to El Torito and we watched planes after. But my story is not about the planes, it just brings me to how we got to the train incident.

On the way home from dinner and plane watching, we travel through an industrial area with several train tracks. Since it’s a freight route, there are always HUGE, long trains that the kids like to watch. Well, a couple weeks ago, we were driving by there and I saw a train coming down the tracks a little ways away. Mike flipped a bitch and we went back so the kids could watch the train close up. Last night on the way home, I was really tired, it had been a long day, and taking the kids to a restaurant solo, that’s work. So I was kind of zoning out, just driving on autopilot to get home. We had just crossed the railroad tracks when the fun began…
Alex yells out: OH! MAMA! Train, train! There was a train coming! Turn around!

Alex (screaming): Hurry! Hurry! We’re gonna miss it!

Madi (has to chime in too): Hurry! Hurry!

So, after a few blocks, I find a place to turn around and start to go back…

Me: Alex, are you sure you saw a train? Or do you just want me to go back and look for one?

Alex: No! Mama, it’s right there! I saw it! I saw it!

Madi: I saw tooo-ooooo! (everything is ‘me too’ right now…)

We were approaching the tracks. They are double tracks, set at an angle across the roadway. There is a building on one side almost on top of the tracks, and on the other side there is a building set back a little ways. It’s impossible to see down the tracks until you are right up on them. So we’re at the tracks, and I’m going about 5mph…

Me (in an I-told-you-so tone): I don’t see any train… (I was convinced he was making it up just to go back)

I was looking to the right out the passenger side, since that was the first area I could see. For as far as the eye could see, no light from a train anywhere. Ugh, why does he do this? We’re still rolling about 5mph, and I can almost see around the big warehouse on the left. We’re on top of the first set of tracks, and we clear the line of sight past the building…

Me: Oh, F***! (flooring the gas pedal) It’s right there!

Alex: Mama!

Me: Oh my God, it’s right there!!! Why aren’t the arms down?!?

I made a u-turn, because I obviously needed to go back towards home. I was totally flustered. I could not understand how there could be a moving train like 25 yards from the crossing gate and the arms not be down. The kids were excited to see a train so close, they were not afraid at all. My heart was almost pounding out of my chest because I thought we almost just got creamed by a train. So I creep slowly up to the train tracks, and look over to the train. It was slowly rolling to a stop. People came out of the gate at the business and began loading up the train… Ooo-ooh, ok, they are stopping to load up, that’s why the arms aren’t down. They cut off the light on the train as I was crossing the tracks. We started on our way home. I told Alex, “Wow, you were right, the train was RIGHT THERE! That scared me so bad I almost peed my pants!” Then Alex told me, “Mama, you don’t pee in your pants. You pee in the toilet. You’re a big girl.” HA!

Later that night, Mike called to talk to the kids before they went to sleep. The first thing Alex said was about the train. He said “Daddy! We saw a train, and it was real close, and mama got scared and made the car go REAL fast! Then she almost peed her pants! It was COOL!” Well, I’m glad he found it all so amusing.

Ears wide open

2006-02-01T14:26:00.000-08:00

I know my parenting is working. My kids are starting to repeat things to each other that I feel like I have told them a thousand times. Madi coughs, Alex tells her to cover her mouth. Alex jumps on his bed, I hear Madi say “Sissy, no jump bed!” Which brings me to the next one, Madi calls Alex “sissy,” Alex says, “I’m not your Sissy! I’m Brother!”

Here are some more good ones. Alex woke up from his nap grumpy one day and I made him go back to bed. I told him he obviously was not ready to get up, he needed more rest. A few days later, right after the kids woke up from naps, Alex yelled at Madi for something, and Madi turned around and said, “Go back-a bed, Alex!”

Alex, Madi, and I were standing at the corner of the sidewalk in a shopping center. We had just come from Starbucks, going to watch Mike play hockey. We were waiting for this lady who was trying to back out of a parking stall right next to where we were standing. I knew she didn’t see us, she was on the phone, her own two kids were jumping around in the backseat, she was trying to back out with one hand, and obviously couldn’t be bothered to watch for pedestrians. So I sarcastically said out loud, “If she’d just hang up the phone…” and Alex yelled loudly, “Hey, hang up and drive!” She didn’t hear him, but I really wish she had.

We went on our usual weekly outing to watch planes take off at the airport, and Mike and Alex were in the back of the truck. They were waiting for a plane to come in, so Mike started an ‘I Spy” game with Alex. He’d say ‘I see a helicopter.’ Then Alex would look around and find the helicopter. When Mike said, “I see a bird,” Alex looked around and said “Not me. I don’t see a bird.” So Mike said, “You don’t see any birds?” And Alex replied, “Nope. I see a seagull. A dirty seagull.” That’s my boy. I hate those rats with wings.

Finally, what Mike likes to call the “nerd alert.” Alex and Madi got balloons from Red Robin. We brought them home and they played with them all night. The next morning, Alex went looking for the balloons, and wanted to know why they weren’t flying anymore. You all know I treat the kids like little adults, and I don’t like to make up kiddie-excuses for stuff. So I briefly explained osmosis, helium, and the periodic table of elements. I gave him enough he could understand but not be overwhelmed. And best of all, it keeps him from asking “why.” I figure if I tell him why to start with, he won’t have a reason to ask. So we went over a few key points again, and then Mike got home. Alex showed him the balloon, and remarked how it couldn’t fly anymore. So, wondering what he’d say, I asked Alex, “Hey, can you tell Daddy what you learned about Helium today?” And very matter-of-factly, Alex looked at Mike and said, “Helium is a noble gas. They put it in my balloon and then it flies up because it’s lighter than air.” Aaaaaah. He does listen to me. Now if I could just get him to remember to wipe…

I had a memory

2006-01-27T13:03:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a memory just spring up on you, like you would have never thought of the memory, except something triggered it and you all of a sudden thought of this obscure thing? That happened to me today. I was going to eat lunch, and I couldn't decide what I wanted. I felt like a burrito, so I drove by baja fresh, but it was jam packed with no place to park. So I decided I'd just make a run for the border, right across the street, but the drive-thru was like 20 cars deep. So I drove by Moon's, but remembered their burritos are NASTY, that's why nobody was in there, so I drove to El Burrito, where they make really good burritos, but again, jammed, so I didn't bother. I was running out of time and options, so I just stopped at Dairy Belle and figured I'd find something. Nothing on the menu sounded good. I decided on chicken nuggets for some weird reason. I never get chicken nuggets. So I get my order, go back to work, and head for the breakroom. I didn't bother getting sauce for my nuggets because there's always sauce at work. I keep a bottle of ranch in the fridge for salads, dip, etc. I went to the small fridge in dispatch, no ranch... Okaaaaaay, where the heck did my ranch go? I go to the "big" fridge in the breakroom, thinking it might have migrated there (people don't return things when they borrow them). No ranch... I started to recall Mike holding a bottle of ranch, shaking it, saying, I ate all your ranch, you're out. CRAP! Now what am I going to eat with my nuggets? All there is in the fridge are standard hamburger condiments - ketchup, mustard, mayo. So I say "oh well, I'll use ketchup." I pull out a nugget, dip it in the ketchup... wait, this is familiar... why does this make me feel good inside? I GOT IT!!!

Remember in elementary school, you'd bring home the school lunch menus they gave you, and you'd sit down with your mom and circle the days you wanted to buy lunch instead of taking your lunchbox? I'd ALWAYS circle chicken nugget days, because the school nuggets were the BOMB! They were crispy, and they'd always serve them with that lumpy ketchup that they put in the plastic containers and you'd push the handle and a little hole would open up for the ketchup to come glump-glump-glump-ing out onto your lunch tray! Dairy Belle's nuggets taste just the same. So unbeknownst to them, they totally made my day. My last resort lunch was awesome!

Drunken Monkey

2006-01-27T09:30:00.000-08:00

So, as I discovered this past Tuesday, not all medication comes with child-proof caps. I guess I was just under the assumption that they did. I mean it seemed logical, the way everyone is so litigious nowadays, I figured everything was something-proof. Bearing that in mind, don't think I am a horrible mother when you read the rest of this story.

On Tuesday morning, the kids were up and we were getting ready for swimming. Alex was in the bathroom, "washing his hands." He always washes his hands by himself, and he always takes a long time, because he ends up playing with the water and soap, squirting soap all over the sink, then he tries to rinse it all off with a *tiny* little trickle of water. So it takes him a while unless one of us intervenes and speeds up the process. After he'd been in there about 5 minutes, I asked him to dry off and come on out. He said "I'm coming..." A minute later, no Alex, so I tell him again to get out to the living room. Once again, "I'm cooooooommmming...." 30 seconds later, no Alex, so I head for the bathroom while calling him. I round the corner and find him standing on the stool, water trickling, his toothbrush out, toothpaste out, cough medicine out, cap off, and the dispenser cup with remnants of medication in it. I stop in my tracks, trying to visually process the scene. Alex stops in his tracks, realizing he's been caught, waiting for my reaction.

Me: Did you drink some of that medicine?

Alex: Yep (nodding yes and patting his tummy)

Me: How much did you drink?

Alex: Two of these (holds up the little dispenser cup from on top of the lid)

Me: Did you fill them all the way up?

Alex: Yep.

Me/Mike (in unison): Poison Control!

We have called poison control so many times we have the number written in permanent ink on the dry-erase board. He has eaten a whole chapstick, a full tube of A&D ointment, etc... So the Poison Control lady asks how much he drank, what the size of the bottle was, how much was left, etc. She tells us based on the bottle size and ingredients, he would have had to drink more than half the bottle to be dangerously affected by it. She said he was going to get pretty sleepy, and probably very loopy.

After the Poison Control lady told us everything would be fine, we continued getting ready for swimming. Alex was already in his swimming trunks, although we did not intend to allow him to swim. About a half-hour passed, and Alex started to act kind of woozy. He was stumbling, running into walls, tipping over. It was HILARIOUS. Well, it wasn’t funny that it happened, but since we knew he’d be OK, it was damn funny to watch this drunk money operate. We all piled into the car and went to swimming, and Madi got in the pool. When the swim teacher asked Alex why he wasn’t swimming, he said “Because I drank medicine all by myself and I’m never supposed to do it again. Not ever.” He literally repeated the words right from my mouth. It was cute. About ¾ of the way through class, Alex had to use the bathroom. He got up to try and go, and Mike caught him as he stumbled toward the pool. They walked together to the bathroom, and Alex stands in front of the toilet to pee. Mike is standing right behind him, Alex lifts up his shirt, and the fun begins…

Alex: Hello, belly button!

Mike: Hey, leave your belly button alone, just go pee.

Alex: (peeing…)

Alex: Wanna smell my hand? (Holds hand up for Mike to sniff)

Mike: Eeeew! You were just holding your pee-pee with that hand! No I don’t wanna smell it!

Alex: Wanna smell my foot then? (holds foot up)

Mike: No thanks.

Alex: (looks into the toilet) BOO pee-pee! HAHAHAHAHA!

So we had a drunken monkey for about 5 hours. He was pretty entertaining, we thought about renting him out for parties… Just kidding, but he turned out to be ok, and out of all this, Mike got the idea to save the child-proof caps from other medications, and fit them onto the ones that don’t have child-proof caps. He just exchanged one yesterday and it works perfect. Keep that in the archives to protect your little monkeys.

Dec. Disneyland Trip

2006-01-20T10:34:00.000-08:00

I just realized I forgot to blog our Disneyland trip! SOOOO many things happened while we were there, it was awesome. I know I have forgotten a bunch of things by now, but here are a few little stories from what I can remember.

- We went with our friends, who also have two children similar ages to Madi and Alex. The little girl, who is Alex’s age (since I didn’t ask permission to use her name, we’ll just call her “A”) dressed in beautiful princess costumes each day. The first day, she dressed as Cinderella. What a coincidence that as we were leaving the Rocket ship ride at the entrance to Tomorrowland, on our way to the Castle at Fantasyland, we would run into Cinderella! The Cinderella character was on her way to the bridge at the castle for a photo op. She saw “A” dressed just like her, stopped to talk to her, and walked with her, hand-in-hand, all the way to the castle. It was an amazing experience for us, as adults, I can’t imagine how special she must have felt. Other little girls were looking and pointing, obviously in awe of this pretty little girl being led by Cinderella. They got to the castle, Cinderella knelt down, and put “A” on her knee. They talked about princes, and other secret princess stuff, and Cinderella planted a big princess kiss on “A’s” forehead. It was so cool.
- Alex was up to his usual antics, entertaining the gang. He got Madi to take pictures with the Disney characters, which she was initially afraid of. She wanted nothing to do with Mickey Mouse, but finally warmed up to JoJo. After JoJo, the kids went to see Mrs. Incredible (AKA “Elasti-girl”). She had quite the figure for a cartoon character, complete with giant plastic boobs and a J-Lo booty. So Alex was checking her out, and I could see he was up to no good. He chatted her up a little bit, gave her a hug, and then, as he was releasing his hug, took his right hand and gave leftie a little how-do-you-do. I was staring in amazement as my son felt up a Disney character. I’m not sure the person in the costume even realized it, but still how mortifying.
- We tried to get Alex on Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, but he had to be 40” tall. He is like 39 ¾”. So he goes up to the little measuring stick, and he stands as tall as he can, and some lady in line, who obviously has no children, shouts out “Hey! He’s standing on his tippy-toes!” So the cast member with the measuring device looks down and shakes her head no, and motions for us to go away. So I tried not to seem too broken up about it, so as not to make Alex feel bad. I told him, “Well, next time buddy, you need to grow about another quarter of an inch.” And then he reached into his pocket, dug around, and pulled his little hand out, and he was so happy to tell me, “But Mama, I have a quarter right here!” I guess he thought having a quarter and being a quarter inch taller were equal. It was the cutest thing.
- I have to start this story with a disclaimer. Every parent has a time when they wish their child did not pick up on things that they say. Specifically curse words and embarrassing facts. Mine is not too terrible, but still some people might think it’s really horrible. It has come to a point where we just think it’s really funny, although we know it is going to get us in trouble come school years. We both have a long drive to work, and occasionally (Mike more than me) we have the need to honk at idiot drivers and yell at them, from the safety of our car. It just makes you feel better, you know, get out the frustration and move on. So, I guess when I yell at people, I frequently use the word “jackass” to describe them. Alex took it upon himself to combine the two actions. So whenever we honk at someone now, Alex yells in his loudest, most meaningful voice, “Learn how to drive, jackass!” You know in the movie Happy Gilmore, where the disgruntled fan is watching Happy play and trying to wreck his game, he shouts “jackass!”? Well, that’s exactly how Alex says it. It is hilarious. So, knowing the background, here is the story. We were leaving Disneyland, driving down the main street in front of Disneyland, right by the Maingate, when we saw a guy in his brand new Chrysler 300C beached on the center island. By the way he was stuck, you could tell that instead of driving a couple blocks down and making a U-Turn to come back, he tried to jump the center median and had gotten his car stuck. It was a pretty good-sized median, and his front wheels were totally off the ground. We were all pointing and laughing, and trying to figure out how to make the most out of the situation. We decided it would be the most fun if we made a U-Turn (in a large Suburban filled with 8 people), rolled down the windows, and if we timed it just right and honked, Alex could shout “Learn how to drive, jackass!” at the driver and the gathering crowd. It worked out perfectly. We made the U-Turn and he yelled just right. You could see people’s faces in the crowd looking up at us. It was damn funny.
- We had the “pleasure” of meeting a Disney cast member named Britney. Oh wasn’t she a joy. Lets see, she threatened to have us kicked out of the park for not walking down main street fast enough during a parade, she was nasty and rude, and then for her grand finale, in her rush to keep everyone moving, separated Alex from us and got him lost for 20 minutes. We didn’t like her. Let’s start at the top. She was MAYBE 20 years old, and they charged her with directing pedestrians around the crowded sidewalks during the parade. All she kept saying was “Go through the stores, it is MUCH faster!” What she didn’t realize was nobody was in a real hurry. It was crowded, we all had strollers, so nobody was going anywhere fast. At one point, I tried to maneuver out of the crowd and got stuck in a little nook in one of the stores and couldn’t get out. Everyone else stopped while they tried to let me catch up, and along came Britney, saying she would call security and have us removed from the park if we didn’t move along. The worst part was we weren’t even trying to go the way she was shooing us. So we finally get around and we thought we were rid of her. Then at park closing, Main Street was jammed for the fireworks show. “D” and I and the kids grabbed a seat on the curb, just like everyone else, and waited for the show to start. Mike was in the street waiting and “D’s” husband, also “D”, went for coffee. So D and I were sitting there, and as the time approached for the show, who came along? You got it! Britney! She was putting up rope to keep the sidewalks clear and keep the crowd in the street. A couple of her little homies came up and she was hugging and ooohing and aaahing over them being there, not paying attention to what she was doing. Once she resumed her reign over the sidewalk, she rudely tells D and I “If you want to see the fireworks, you have to get off the sidewalk. Move into the street.” At that point, I was like, “Look, b**ch, you are about to catch the biggest happiest-place-on-earth beat down if you keep it up.” No, I didn’t say it, but really wish I had have now. So as I recover from her rudeness, D and I simultaneously realize that Alex is gone. So we all started looking around frantically for him. I was checking the stores, anywhere I saw toys, the fruit stand (they had bananas, his favorite…) and then I’d run back to where D was with the rest of the kids and see if he’d come back. No luck. Meanwhile, Mike was mobilizing the troops on Main Street to help look for him. I think everyone in the general vicinity was looking for Alex and his yellow shirt. After what seemed like forever, D said maybe he had made it to the lost and found children’s area. I decided to go look. It was all the way at the other end of the street. I fought my way through the crowd, keeping my eyes peeled for Alex, the whole time calling his name. Once I saw a little boy Alex’s size wearing almost the exact same shirt he was. I hollered at that boy, “ALEXANDER!” Then he looked at me like I was crazy and I realized he wasn’t Alex. So I pushed on, and as I rounded the corner, scanning the crowd, it was like the whole world stopped. There was a cast member holding a crying little boy’s hand. Let’s see, yellow shirt, light brown spiky hair, oh, he’s screaming Mama, that’s him!!! I burst into tears because I was so relived to have found him. The cast member said he was very good, he immediately realized he had been separated from us (by nasty Britney) and the first person he saw in the Disneyland outfit and told him, “I’m Alexander, I’m two and a half, and I’m lost.” Just what we told him to do!!! He CAN follow directions after all! We went back to our spot in the crowd and everyone was SO relieved. Then this family from Mexico approached us and the father pulled a small plastic-covered picture from his wallet. He said he wanted to give it to us. You could see it had been in his wallet for a very long time, the plastic was yellowed, and it looked a little tattered. He explained to us that is was a child saint who looked over little boys and kept them safe. It was so touching, for him to give us something obviously so dear to him even though we were perfect strangers. I put it in the scrapbook. And yes, we did try to get Britney fired.
- I saved this one for last because it’s a funny one. The morning of checkout, we all went down to the continental breakfast room. Once we got down there, Alex and “A” both had to go pee. Of course, there was no bathroom there. So A’s dad, D, said he’d take the kids back up to the room to use the bathroom. Off they went while the rest of us sat in the dining room. The kids were really big on pushing the elevator buttons, so D let Alex push the one to call the elevator, and let A push the one inside. They get off the elevator, go to the room, and D puts the card in. Red light. So he sticks it in again. Red light. He sees a housekeeping lady and tells her the situation. He’s got two little kids that need to go to the bathroom, our room is 326 and the card is not working, could she please open the door? The housekeeper is happy to oblige. She sticks in her card key, green light! She opens the door for D, and there stood a family of 4 getting dressed! Everyone sort of stopped and looked at each other, assessing the situation. D took a look outside the door… 226! HAHAHA! Not 326, 226! That’s why the key wouldn’t work, it was the wrong room. Luckily the family inside was able to laugh about it, so it all turned out ok.

Chlorophyll?!? More like Bore-ophyll!!!

2006-01-19T09:53:00.000-08:00

Santa was good to me. I got 4 gift cards to the Day Spa. So I decided what better way to spend them than take Mike with me, get massages together, and facials. (I hope Mike isn't mad that I'm telling everyone he got a facial. I WAS a Men's Fitness Facial, in any case.) After your massage, they offer you water enhanced with chlorophyll. It is supposed to enhance your circulation and digestion, and it tastes minty fresh! I inquired with the staff as to where I could purchase the chlorophyll, and of course, they had some. The lady said, "Make sure you read the directions, and when you start out, use less than they tell you so your system can build up to it. It is a natural diuretic." Okay, okay, fine. What's gonna happen? I'll pee a lot? I got home and drank a large cup of it. The next morning, I got ready for work, and drug out my usual 32oz plastic take-along water jug. I added ice, water, and chlorophyll. Not a lot of chlorophyll, just enough to make the water greenish. It tastes really good and makes drinking the water a little more pleasant. Not to mention, everyone who comes in and sees my cup has to ask what the hell I am drinking, so it makes for good conversation. Around 1200, I started to feel a little sick. I had stomach pain, and I felt kinda woozy, but I thought it would get better after I ate something. So I got some lunch, but it tasted funny. Everything was tasting kinda funny, no matter what I ate. Then at around 1500, I started feeling like I was going to puke. I was dizzy, I thought I might pass out, I was shaking, etc. Finally at about 1815 or so, I threw up. I actually felt a little better afterwards.

Bottom line, I think I might have poisoned myself with the chlorophyll. I actually read the bottle when I got home, and it said take one teaspoon in 8oz of water, once in the morning, and once at night. I think I might have gotten a little carried away. I kept reading and it said chlorophyll is similar in makeup to human blood, except it is based on magnesium and humans are based on iron. So I am going to cut back on the plant blood for a bit until I feel right again, and then I am going to FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS!

And for any of you who don't recognize it, the title of this entry is courtesy of Adam Sandler in Billy Madison.

Turns out, Santa prefers cookies.

2005-12-28T08:01:00.000-08:00

You'll recall the cookies vs. blueberries discussion from my last post... Well, Alex still insisted he did not want to leave Santa cookies, but he fell asleep on the car ride home, before I was able to put out any goodies with him. So I put down a cup of water, as directed, and began my search for something I could give Santa, in leiu of the traditional cookies. All I could find in the cupboard, aside from packaged cookies for the kids, were crackers and fruit snacks. Then, for whatever reason, I opened each of my kitchen cupboards, knowing full well I have packed everything in them, looking for something I might leave. EUREKA! I found some raisins. I don't know why I thought raisins were the answer, but they were. I filled a small cup half full with raisins, put them next to the water, and dropped a few next to the cup to give the appearance of a hasty snack.

In the morning, Alex comes strolling into the bedroom, cup and raisins in hand. I say, "Hey, buddy, did Santa come?" (The room was filled with presents, of course he came) Alex says, "Mama, what are these things?" (referring to the raisins, of which he has a large wad in his mouth). I tell him they are raisins, they were for Santa to share with his reindeer, since he didn't want cookies. Then Alex says, "Well, Santa didn't like them, he spit them on the floor. But I like them." (as two half-chewed raisins fall from his trap onto my comforter) So we have to work out a better plan next year. I told Alex we might just want to stick to cookies since Mama, um, or Santa, don't seem to enjoy raisins at all.

Christmas was good for all of us, the kids had a fun time. Alex has been telling everyone who asks him what he got from Santa that he got a balloon. He didn't. But boy, what a savings for next year, huh? A couple balloons, a little helium, easy! :) Hope you all had a Happy Holiday!

Santa

2005-12-24T08:31:00.000-08:00

This is the first year we have really had to start explaining the traditions of Christmas to our kids. It is really a lot harder than I thought. I guess we take it for granted that we understand how "Santa" works. He flies around on a sled delivering gifts, comes down the chimney while you sleep, leaves presents, eats cookies, flies off to the next house. Well, try explaining that to two toddlers. Madi just recognizes the Santa image, I think. I don't think she understands yet that he brings presents. Alex, on the other hand, is not going to buy the Santa bit for long. Maybe not even by next year. Not because I'm going to tell him, he's just pretty darn smart.

He still wants nothing to do with sitting on Santa's lap. I think he senses the icky mall-santa vibe or something. The first attempt, we were at Macy's Union Square, SF. They had an AWESOME Santa. I mean, you could tell it wasn't just a holiday gig for him, he really cared. He told us he'd been doing it for over 25 years, 17 of them for Macy's. He had a real beard, he really could have passed for Santa. Our friends' kids were more than willing to sit with him, and took really cute pictures. Alex and Madi stood by, sizing up the jolly old guy. When it was their turn, I said, "OK, guys, go see Santa, sit on his lap and tell him what you'd like him to bring you for Christmas." Alex said no. Mike knelt down and put his arms around Alex to try to explain it to him. That's when Alex began his retreat. It wasn't like he just didn't want to do it. The best way I can describe it is to imagine Scooby Doo when he is trying to get away from a ghost. He leans back really far, feet a-scramblin', but just doesn't go anywhere... That's what Alex was doing to try to get away from Mike, who was trying to lead him to Satan... er, I mean, Santa. At that point, Madi had pretty much made up her mind that she wanted nothing to do with him either, since her brother was so adamant about not going. So after a few feeble attemps to bargain and a little bribery, we gave up. We figured we had plenty of time to get him excited and get him to want to do the Santa picture. I tried again at Stoneridge Mall. They had a beatiful scene set up, kind of an African looking theme in tans and gold and burgundy and green, complete with life-sized replica giraffes, elephants, lions, etc. It is really cool looking, and the kids love animals, so I figured it was a good bet. Nope. Alex wanted to stop and see all the animals, but when I suggested Santa, he said No. So Madi said No. So we left. I tried again last week at Hillsdale Mall. They have a Lego store at the mall that assisted in building really big Lego Dora and Diego models. They were with Santa and the elves. I thought that would get them in for sure. Nope. I said "Why don't we take pictures with Santa, and see Dora and Diego!", in my best mother-faking-excitement-for-the-benefit-of-her-kids voice. Alex looked at the Santa, looked at Dora and Diego and said "I will take a picture by the Dora and Diego." I said, "No, you need to sit on Santa's lap first, the you can." He looked at me right in my eyes, and quite matter of factly said "No, Mama, I don't know that man." Well, how can I argue with that. So we left. I asked Alex how he planned on getting any presents if he didn't tell Santa what he wanted him to bring. He said "I just want a present. You'll bring it to me." Once again, touche. Anyway, looks like no Santa picture this year. I think we'll just let it be so we don't inadvertently make him dislike Christmas because we made him sit on a strange, smelly, fat man's lap.

Last night, we were eating dinner after I got home from work. Alex, Madi, and I were sitting at the table, discussing Santa. Here is what unfolded:
Me: Ok, you guys, tomorrow night, you have to go right to sleep so Santa can come down the chimney and bring you presents!

Alex: No, I think I'll stay up to say thank you to him. (nods head yes and makes his eyes really wide, like to show me I should agree with his idea)

Me: (Teaching manners is not going to backfire on me, dammit!) Well, Santa won't come unless you are sleeping. He can tell. So you have to go to sleep if you want your presents.

Alex: Ok then. But I can stay up. I want to say 'hi' to Santa. Is that a good deal? (that's his new bargaining phrase. I think I must say it a lot more than I realize...)

Me: How about if we leave him a note. We'll put it right next to the cookies and milk.

Alex: Cookies and milk???

Me: Oh, yah, Santa gets really hungry flying around all night delivering presents, so we leave him a snack of cookies and milk, and before he leaves, he takes a couple bites, and drinks a couple sips. Then he goes back up the chimney, and the reindeer pull his sleigh to the next house with more presents!

Alex: Well, I think I'll leave him blueberries and a glass of water.

Me: (???????) Um, do you think he would like that better than cookies and milk?

Alex: Yes. He will like it! (Nods again)

Me: Ok, if you think that's what he'll like. Is Santa on a diet?

Alex: Yah. He'll like blueberries.

Madi sat "reading" a christmas card we got sent that had Santa on the cover. She was covered in that sparkley glitter they seem to put on all christmas cards. She kept pointing to the front and telling me "Mama! Santa! Santa!" as if I had never seen it before. Alex got up after eating dinner and went into the living room. After a minute I went in to look at him, and he was standing by the fireplace, sorta looking into it. I asked him what he was doing, and he said "Santa fits in there?" I said "Yes, Santa's magical honey, he can fit anywhere." Alex was content with that, since he likes magical things. I just don't see it lasting until next year. I can see I'm going to have to bargain with him again to get him to preserve it for Madi, that is, providing she is not a little detective like the rest of her family!

My Daughter, the Genius

2005-12-22T08:03:00.000-08:00

I got a call at work yesterday from my mom. Madi is getting over the flu, so she had to stay home from daycare. I first thought something was wrong, of course. But then I got a really big surprise. Madi, a few days shy of 18 months old, can count to 12 all by herself. To quote Alex, HOLY CRAP! That is amazing! So my mom puts Madi on the phone, and she starts counting, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12... 9... (Ok, so she skips 4 and repeats 9. It's still pretty amazing) And them later when I saw her and we tried counting together, for one, she holds up one finger, then for two, she holds up one finger on the other hand and puts them together. It is so cute! And that means she actually gets the concept of counting objects, not just reciting memorized numbers. At first I thought she must have just memorized it from hearing Alex count, but now I think she really gets it. She can also say A, B, C, but then she stops. Maybe she already knows her alphabet too... LOL

I knew she was going to be really smart. You can tell by how she sits and "reads" books and her vocabulary. Everyone can understand her words, not just us. I remember when Alex was that age, he talked a lot, but mostly stuff only we understood because we were always with him. But Madi pretty much knows and says the words for everything VERY clearly, so even strangers can understand her. Usually my posts are about how smart Alex is, now it's the Cakes' turn to shine!

THE Coldbuster

2005-12-17T13:39:00.000-08:00

So, many of you know that I have been sick for quite some time now, battling flus and colds, one right after the other. Since the day after Halloween, I have had two days (not in a row...) without some sort of ailment. So after a while, you get tired of taking meds. I think I should own stock in that blue Tylenol liquid (which works very well, I might add).

So day before yesterday, after my newest cold really set in hard, I started thinking. What did people do before cold/flu medicine? I actually asked a co-worker his opinion on that matter, and he said, "They died." Well, I guess people did die of the flu, but I didn't quite feel THAT bad...

So I called in sick on Thursday, got my recommended day in bed, and decided to brave it on Friday and actually drag my phlegm-hacking, coughing, stuffy headed self to work. Every single person who saw me said "Why are you here?" or "Eeeew! Go home!" When lunchtime came, I really felt like having soup. So, against my normal affliction to Chinese food, I drove down to the Chinese food restaurant down the street and got some Hot and Sour soup. I really like it, so I figured even if it didn't help my cold, I'd still like it. Well, those Chinese folks really have somethin' there. Within a couple hours of eating the soup, my head felt clear, I could blow my nose, I was coughing less, and I just generally felt better. Hmmm.

I had tried every OTC remedy for colds. I've tried zinc (tastes icky), Vitamin C (not enough to cure my cold), Echinacea (Eck-i-what?), Zicam nasal spray (cuts the cold in half, HA!), etc, etc. Well, all I have to say now is "Xie xie" or, "doh je!" depending on if they're Mandarin or Cantonese... it means thanks.. Anyway, next time I get a cold, I'm running to Mr. Wong for some soup on day 1!

A Typical Dinner Out

2005-12-07T11:43:00.000-08:00

Both kids are now VERY interested in visiting the facilities in every public place we go to. My mom told me I used to do it all the time, so I guess payback's a bitch. Here's a standard dinner out for us... I'll tell it from my point of view, since I don't know what happens when Mike takes them. But just so you all know, he does do his share. Anyway, we sit down, order drinks, and get the kids situated with their crayons and paper. We order food, maybe an appetizer, and get ready to eat. A few minutes goes by and Alex shouts at the top of his lungs, "Mama! I need to go POO!" He says it as though it came as a great surprise to him. Then Madi, as if their bowels were in unison, starts yelling "PEE-PEE!" and fidgeting wildly in her chair. So we trudge to the bathroom, right as my hot food is being served of course (when you are a parent you eat your food while you can, regardless of it's temperature or state. See below). We get to the bathroom and Madi immediately grabs the toilet. Not the seat, but that unprotected middle part where all the poorly aimed pee lands. I snatch her hand away and try to keep it from touching anything else, like my face, her mouth, etc, I pull her pants down, and put her on the potty. She instantly whines "all done" after not a single thing has come out of her. I sigh, after all, this is still very new to her. I take her down, pull her pants up, and direct her to the corner of the stall, where Alex has been waiting, playing with the door lock. He pulls his pants down without unbuttoning them, scraping down his underwear in the process. He hops up onto the toilet, after inspecting it to see if it has auto-flush. He goes, then looks through his legs into the toilet, squenches up his face and proclaims loudly, "HOLY CRAP! That's a big one!", referring to the poo he just made. I hear snickers from adjoining stalls, obviously from other mothers. I turn to check on Madi, and she has somehow managed to unlock the stall and has made a break for it. I chase her down and bring her back. So we finish up, Alex insists on flushing the toilet with his shoe, as I have taught him to NEVER touch the flush handle in public bathrooms. We go wash up, and return to the table. Mike asks "What took so long?" I look back at him with no response and sit down. 5 minutes later, Madi starts her wild fidgeting again, and yells "PEE-PEE!" wincing as though someone were squeezing her bladder. I scoop her up, and back we go to the potty. When we arrive, I yank down her pants and pullup, and (stop if you get grossed out...) a load of poo falls out onto the floor. I sit her down and she holds up her hands and says "All Done!" Yes, I see that you are all done. Now I have to clean the floor. I do my best to gingerly pick up the mess and cover up any traces that it even happened. Get rid of the pull up, pull Madi's pants up with no diaper, rush her back to the table, warn Mike of the al-fresco situation, and hurry to the car for a pull up. I make it back in time to whisk her off to the potty, replace the diaper, and have no further accidents. We go back to the table. I have taken 3 bites of my dinner, but am somehow no longer hungry. I look at my food, and decide not to eat anymore. I really just want to get the kids out of there and be done with it. So we go home and put the kids to bed. I realize I am pretty hungry so I eat a microwave burrito. Should have just stayed home in the first place. Hey, but then we'd have missed all the fun.

So, as I said earlier, when you are a parent you eat your food while you can. Here’s a few tips on assessing the situation and deciding what to do with your food.

Your hamburger was delivered 30 minutes ago, but you’ve been wrangling the kids the whole time. Now it's cold and has that glazed-over look.
- You've gotten used to eating cold food, take a bite and pull the crayon out of Jr's mouth.

Miss Baby sneezes in the general direction of your entrée.
- Eat it. Any sickness she may have you’re going to catch anyway. Avoid any juicy bits.

In your frustration with Jr, you leave your to-go box in the back seat of the car. You discover it in the morning while investigating a funky smell.
- Ok, nothing is worth food poisoning. Chalk it up to a long day and toss it.

Jr insists on Mac and Cheese, so you order it, but when your hamburger comes he decides he wanted that instead.
- Hope you like Mac and Cheese. Either that or you can have Hamburger with a side of meltdown. And sharing is not a bad thing :)

Gonna bake cookies but the kids just woke up?
- Forget it, just eat a couple spoonfuls of the batter. When the kids ask what you’re eating, make a face and tell them you’re sampling a new food for the dog. Put the rest in the fridge.

You give in to temptation and order a beer/margarita. After it arrives, you turn your head and start digging around in your purse, and come up to find your precious taking a large swig of the adult beverage.
- Don’t freak out, it will draw attention. Reclaim your drink, hope he doesn’t ask for more, and pay in cash so when someone calls CPS they can’t trace you. LOL

And we wonder why nobody wants to go to dinner with us but our other friends with 2 kids...

More kiddie updates

2005-12-07T08:38:00.000-08:00

So, you know how when you were little, and your parents used to spell things in front of you, to "fool" you, or so you wouldn't know what they were talking about? Well, yet another thing I said I'd never do that I now do regularly. But the funny thing is, the kids always seem to know what I'm spelling. Now I know Madi can't spell, and I know all Alex can spell is his name, but I'll be darned if he doesn't know almost every time I use this tactic.
See, at first, I'd only spell the key word. But then I realized he was using the rest of the sentence to figure out the missing word. So if I'd say, "I hope he doesn't want to watch D-O-R-A when we get home," inevitably he'd immediately say, "Mama, I want to watch Dora when we get home." So then we tried using cryptic language when talking about things. For example, if we were talking about Chuck E. Cheese, we would call it "House of Mouse" and we were ok for a bit, except now, he knows the location of every Chuck E. Cheese in a 3 county area, and I think he has associated "House of Mouse" with Chuck E. Cheese. So he's a litle smarter than we thought. And Madi is right there too. She is putting two and two together all the time. Two crazy little kids.

So we took the bars off Madi's crib and she is in her big-girl toddler bed. She has not fallen out at all, which is surprising because Alex fell out of his all the time. So we put this long body pillow wedged under the side of her bed, but she hasn't needed it. I almost feel disappointed, you know, like I put out all this effort to pad her fall and she won't even fall. Watch, as soon as I take away the pillow she's gonna take a spill right on her head at like 2am and scare the crap out of me. Last night she got up at 11:00pm, and I heard this bang noise, which I thought was someone crashing through the french doors to the deck. So I slowly get up, and start to go look when I hear a little "pitter-pat-pitter-pat" of tiny feet running through the kitchen. So I say "Who's out of bed?" and I hear a little voice say "Me!" I look around the corner and see Madi, bunny in tow. She gets a big smile on her face and says "Hi, Mama!" The loud noise was her flinging her door open and the knob hit the wall. So I put her back to bed, and we had a little talk about staying in bed. She didn't get up again.

Here's a good one. Teaching your children manners can sometimes backfire on you. Last night I'm sitting on the couch at like 10:05, watching the news, and I thought the kids were asleep. Well, I knew Madi was asleep because she had passed out on the couch at 8:30 watching Lion King. But I thought Alex was asleep because I had put him down at 9:20 when the movie ended, and he usually goes right out. So anyway, I'm watching the news, I've got the remains of my soda, getting ready to wrap some gifts for the kids from Santa. So I let out this HUGE burp, because you know, I thought I was alone, so I can be gross. Next, I hear a *tiny* little voice from the kids' room say "excuse me." Well I'll be damned. Now he's reminding me to be polite. So I say, "Thank you Alex. Excuse me. Now good night." He says "'night mama."

The kids are also really excited about Christmas this year. They recognize Santa, but want nothing to do with sitting on his lap. Not even at all. But we are going to get a Santa picture, screaming or not. I'll try and explain the importance of giving Santa your list, but if it doesn't work, we'll warn the Santa about kicking and hitting, and let him have a go. It will be entertaining if nothing else. I'll keep you posted.

Girls of the 70's and 80's

2005-12-03T17:45:00.000-08:00

I am totally biting off my friend Becky's blog... Click her name and read her post on what it meant to be a girl growing up in the 70s and 80s. I think I did every single one of the things! It brought back so many memories. Ma, you'll get a kick out of it.

My Favorite Mama-isms

2005-11-11T16:55:00.000-08:00

I can remember growing up, there was an imaginary list of things I swore I’d never say to my kids, given the opportunity. HAHAHA, boy was I wrong. Here are a few of my favorites…

#5
Quit crying before I give you something to cry about.

#4
Come here, you’ve got something on your face (licks thumb and wipes off the dirt)
(Alex: Eeeew! Mama you spit on me!)

#3
No, I don’t think you did wash your hands. Come here, let me smell them.

#2
If you pick your nose, the Booger Witch will come paint your finger green.

And my favorite, #1
I can see what you’re doing, I have eyes in the back of my head!

The world's crappiest job (pun intended)

2005-10-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

So I heard recently about a situation... There are these portable toilets, and they company has been having some problems with people putting bags inside the toilets. They line the underside of the toilet seat so the bag hangs down and collects the waste, instead of it dropping into the tank with the septic liquid. So when the truck comes to remove the waste, it sucks up the bag and clogs the suction hose... and well, spills waste out of the bag. This apparently occurs about one out of every four times the pottys are delivered.

Can you imagine this guy, a Poo Truck Driver, hooks up the poo-sucker tube to the outhouse, and after some suctioning, disconnects the tube to investigate a clog... Holy Crap! Human excriment is being squeezed from a hefty bag that has become lodged in your poo-sucking tube. How exactly do you proceed from there? Do you grab it and pull it out? That's nasty. Then what do you do with it? Not to mention now you have to clean up all the poo you've spilled. Literally, the crappiest job in the world.

And how do you explain your job choice to your parents? "I know I should have studied harder in school, maybe I really could have become a doctor like you wanted. Or a veterinarian. But Mom and Dad, I drive a rolling toilet bowl, and I'm happy! Why can't you just be proud of me for who I am! I'm an excriment extraction specialist! They give me a special title and everything! I know you call me "shit sucker" behind my back, but I really love my work! Why can't you support me?"

I mean seriously, that's a job I'm sure isn't on the list your school counselor gives you after your personality and aptitude test. "Well, Mr. Smith, you did very well on your placement test, and you have a wonderful personality. The statistics show you'd do very well as an excriment extraction specialist. Basically, in simplified terms, you are the perfect person to suction the poop from porta-potties. Congratulations and I wish you a long, happy career!"

Now here's the other question. Aside from the yahoo who's stuck with the waste removal, what in the hell was the person thinking who put the bag in there? I don't think I wanna catch this person. What kind of sick crime are you planning on committing that you need to steal people's feces and urine? And can you imagine when the newspaper gets ahold of the story? They'll call them the 'Poo-Poo Prowler" or something like that.

Anyway, I found this VERY humorous, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Thought you might enjoy the story.

Blog Spammers

2005-10-29T08:40:00.000-07:00

So, my friend Becky posted on her blog a few weeks ago about blog spammers. Until reading her post, I had not experienced this phenomenon. Then, all of a sudden, I start getting notifications on my e-mail about comments on my blog. Well, I haven't posted in a long time, so I wondered who had posted a comment? I check the comment and it was someone who basically said "Interesting Blog. Very Informative. May I bookmark you? Please check out my blog on dog potty training." So you click the link and it takes you to a website advertising something. HOW IRRITATING!!! I've gotten links that do not even pertain to anything I care about. Or the ones where you can tell they did a keyword search, but it was way off base. Like the link I got to wheelchair basketball. ??? I can't even think of a keyword I may have written that would tell someone, hey, I bet this chick digs wheelchair basketball! Or my SCUBA references that return me comments on aquarium pumps, white coral jewelry, etc. Let's do an experiment... I am going to jot down a bunch of random words and phrases I think of and we'll check my comments and see what I get.

Jokes, burglar, plasma TV, boxing, giant green iguana, Mt. Fuji, howler monkey, post-its, vanilla coke tastes really bad, reams of green paper, Zetron model 4118, three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run, they all ran after the farmers wife, she cut off their tails with a carving knife, have you ever seen such a sight in your life, as three blind mice, three blind mice, Diego, Rescue Pack, Keyboard shortcuts, A GHOST!!! South Park, rolodex, $100,000 Pyramid, tan, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Goodnight Moon, Mary Poppins, toenails...

I think that's enough. I bet you're wondering why I thought of some of those. Hell, I'm wondering why I thought of some of those. I guess you never know what's gonna pop in there.

My Little Rain Man

2005-10-29T07:30:00.000-07:00

First, no, my blog didn't go the way of the dinosaurs - it isn't extinct. I have just been insanely busy and had no time to update it. So, that being said I have a couple stories for everyone.

We've always known Alex was a special little boy, very smart and aware of what's going on. He seems to be able to almost predict things, it's really kinda creepy that a boy that young can do that. Once, we were on a plane, taxi-ing on the runway, and Alex looked out the window at another plane, pointed right at it and said, "That plane gonna fall." Later that night, we watched the news and there were two plane crashes. I don't know if it was that specific plane, but how weird, right? What a coincidence. Fine.

Well, last night tops that by a lot. Alex, Madi, and I were sitting in the car, getting ready to leave work. He asked if we could drive over to a little group of my co-workers so he could say hi. So I drove them over, and we sat chatting. The 4 of us adults were talking work stuff, DUI checkpoint, holiday party, etc. After about 10 minutes of us talking, Alex called out to one of my co-workers, Scott. Alex was in the rear right passenger seat. Scott was standing at the driver's fender of my car. He had to kinda maneuver his little body to see him. All of a sudden, Alex interrupts, and says "Hey, Scott!" Then he said something in a low voice, and Scott couldn't quite hear him. I heard him, but I wanted him to repeat himself. So Scott asks Alex, "What'd you say, buddy?" And I tell Alex to speak up, and he asks Scott, "Do you have a new puppy at your house?" So we all just stop and look at each other, like, what a random thing to ask someone. We weren't talking about dogs, there were no dogs around, nobody even said anything that remotely sounded like the word "puppy." Then, to top it all off, Scott says, "Yes, I do have a new puppy. How'd you know that?" I whip around and say, "Yah, how DID you know that?" Alex just sat there, quiet. He didn't say another word for a few minutes.

It was weird. Everyone there was a little awed by it. I still have no explanation. But Mike says we should run him by 7-11 and pass a lotto sheet in front of him, and if he should happen to shade in some numbers, well, I guess we could let him... HAHAHA!

Why I love my kids

2005-08-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

So, my mom (who normally watches our babies) is on vacation in Italy for 3 weeks, and the kids are in daycare with our friend's wife. They are loving it, and having a great time. The only problem with the arrangement is that Mike and I have to switch the kids at work in the morning and at night. So, I wake them up, put them in the car, drive to work, give them to Mike, who is just getting off work, he takes them to daycare. Then he picks them up on his way to work, gives them to me as I get off work, and I take them home to bed. Kinda hectic, but it works out. Anyway, the kids are fascinated by anything police related, since Mama and Daddy both have all this cool gear and cars and radios. They came up to my dispatch center, and Alex took a seat at the position behind me. He started typing at the keyboard, grabbed the radio mic (didn't press the transmit button thankfully) and yelled "Twenty-Two!" I guess since he always hears me say numbers into the radio, he thought he'd get in his numbers too. I never really realized what it must sound like to a 2 1/2 year old. To me, "P17, 10-19, 10-87 S3" isn't just a bunch of numbers, it actually means "Officer X, come to the station and meet the Sergeant" But to the kids, it just sounds like Mama is counting out of order. So that was pretty cute.

But that wasn't what I was going to talk about today... Anyway, so the kids were in the car with me on my way home from work. It hadn't been a particularly stressful day, but I tend to talk to myself anyway on the way home about stuff that happened during the day. (You all do it, it's not just me... right?) So, I am driving down the street toward the freeway, talking to myself, and the kids are yelling about their Dora CD. Every time we get in the car, they want the Dora CD. I know all 44 &*$%)@# songs on the Dora CD without it even playing. So I suggested we listen to something else. I put in Alex's other favorite, a merengue CD called "Tropicalismo." He calls it his favorite song. So I pop in the CD, and keep on driving, with just a little more shake in my rattle-and-roll. I put up one of those mirrors recently that snaps onto your rear view so you can see your kids in the back seat. It is kinda cool, because I can look back and see if they're sleeping or trying to escape their seats, or sharing toys. I took a second out of my daily recap (talking to myself, remember?) and glanced into the kiddie mirror. That's when it hit me. Why I knew being a parent was the greatest thing in the world. Both my babies were in their seats, giant smiles across their faces, waving their arms, dancing to the music. They were both so happy and content. All because I put a CD in that they liked. It was so simple. It wasn't an expensive trip, or some new-fangled toy that takes 17 batteries. It was a song. And they were so happy.

Sometimes people comment "I don't know how you do it, with two toddlers, it would be way too much work for me!" Sometimes it is a lot of work, but there are small things that happen that make you realize why being a parent is the best thing in the world. It isn't when they throw department store tantrums, it isn't when they sass you or talk back, it isn't even when they take their first steps. It is the little things you would never think would matter that makes it all worthwhile. It's the little things that make you realize, "I am directly responsible for this little person being happy and smart and polite, and they actually are all those things!"

Anyway, I just realized this and thought I'd share it. If you have kids, you'll know what I mean.

And I have like 3 unfinished blogs sitting in my saved documents folder. Hopefully I can get them done soon.

So how exactly DO you dislocate your shoulder picking up a penny?

2005-07-02T11:20:00.000-07:00

So how exactly do you dislocate a shoulder picking up a penny? Let me tell you. I think it really has to do with Karma. Or Fate. Or Destiny, or whatever it is when there’s a reason why you should not do a particular thing. It’s strange the way the message can come across.

So, the story starts with babysitting issues. We can’t find anyone to watch the kids for our last night of scuba diving class. We call to see if maybe one of us can miss the class, but we can’t. The instructor suggests we bring the kids along. Hahahahahahaha, do you know our children? So, as a last resort, we take the kids, and a playpen, to scuba class. That did not work out very well. Madi cried, Alex threw food everywhere. I was under water and I heard, from under the water, “Maaaaaaa-maaaaaaaa! I have to go poo-poo!” So I pop my head up, take the regulator out of my mouth, tell him to wait a few minutes, and go back under. Luckily, he was able to hold it until I got a break about 20 minutes later. Enough about that… on to the dislocation.

So we’re struggling with the kids, Madi is crying, and I was not looking forward to putting my tank and everything back on after getting out to take Alex poo. Well, yay for me, w didn’t have to put everything back on, the instructors told us we were going to work on some snorkeling skills, and there would be a prize for the winner. One instructor, “T”, had thrown a bunch of pennies into the swimming pool, and he said that we were to practice a certain dive we had learned and whoever collected the most pennies in one dive got the prize. So I psyched myself up, because I hate snorkeling and I hate holding my breath under water. I dive under, with relatively good form, for once, and start grabbing pennies. I got 7 of them and I started to feel like I was running out of air. I made one last grab for another penny, pushed off the bottom with my fingertips, and POP! There went my shoulder. I frantically swim to the surface, using my “emergency swimming ascent” and I must have burst out of the water like a madwoman. The instructor looked at me like I was crazy. I was spewing profanity like Old Faithful. See, when I get hurt during a sport or in public, I’m not a crier. I curse to express my pain. So, according to Mike, who had just come up from collecting his 20-something pennies, all 5 instructors were around me, with awestruck looks on their faces. He said he wasn’t sure if it was panic, or shock, or fear of what I was going to do next. Let me stop for a second and say we had two actual instructors, “V” and “L”. They are very experienced divers, and both seem somewhat timid, personality wise. “L” is a small woman who is very soft spoken and gentle. Then there were 3 guys who were getting their instructor certification, “T”, “F”, and “D”. “T” was standing on the pool deck, right next to where I came up. He got the brunt of my profanity. He also got the 7 pennies I had a death grip on in my gimpy hand… Yah, that’s right, I held onto my pennies…

Anyway, resuming the story… “V” was directly behind me at that point. I distinctly remember him grabbing the neck of my wetsuit from behind, I guess to try and stabilize me. So I spin my neck around exorcist-style and hiss “Don’t touch me…” So “V” lets go and puts his hands up like I just told him it was stick-up. He and “L” both had the funniest looks on their faces. I know what they must have been thinking, being trained professionals, that they had to bring the situation under control using their training and experience. Just what I would be thinking during normal circumstances when I’m in charge of anything. Well, if you’ve ever dislocated your shoulder, you know the last thing you want is ANYONE touching you. I mean, part of your body is not where it belongs. It is disconcerting, to say the least, and people pawing at you, trying to “help” does NOT help. So again, more politely, I ask everyone around me not to touch me. I’ve calmed down and the profanity has subsided. I have a circle of 4 people floating around me – “V”, “L”, “F”, and then there’s Mike, who had gone back down for more pennies, but just popped his head up to see what all the commotion was. He actually didn’t even know I had dislocated my shoulder until later when I was already out of the pool. He said he thought I just swallowed water or was having a hard time breathing or something. I guess I must not have been swearing that bad, or he would have heard me.

So my shoulder is out of socket, perched precariously above it’s joint. “V” again suggested he should tow me down to the shallow end so I could stand and regain my bearings before they called medics for me. I was like, “Oh no, you are not calling anyone. I’m going to pop it back in right now, I just need to take a couple breaths…” Ok, I thought the looks were shock before? Now they were staring at me, jaws open, like I was some kind of lazy-eyed psycho! So I reassured them that it was not the first time I’d done it, although it was the first time I’d done it while treading in 10 feet of water. I took a couple breaths, closed my eyes, grabbed the lower part of the arm, and popped it back in, a-la-Martin Riggs (Lethal Weapon, remember?). It was quiet for a long time. Well, probably only 5 seconds or less, but it felt like forever. I don’t think they really knew what to make of it all. I mean, it’s not every day you see a straight-faced girl in a wetsuit re-locate her dislocated shoulder in the deep-end of a pool. Afterwards, "L" came up to me and said quietly, "You are a very courageous woman. A little scary, though." She gave a little laugh like she was kidding, but I think she meant it.

So all said and done, after my feeble attempt to keep diving, I got out of the pool, was helped out of my gear, got dressed, and stayed with the kids until Mike was done with class. Then I took the kids to my parents’ house and went to the ER. I hate the ER. I basically got a sling out of it. And now I’m in the hole $49.93 ($50 ER visit, minus the 7 cents I recovered from the pool)

So this post took me a while to write, being one-armed and all. The update is that I tore some tissue and now the Dr. recommends surgery. I have not decided what to do yet. But ain’t that a bitch… I had all these signs saying I shouldn’t dive, my asthma was acting up, I had bronchitis, but I was going to try to go anyway. So whoever/whatever knew what was going to happen to me under water must have thought it was pretty bad, and instead ripped my shoulder out of socket. Thanks. Good lookin’ out. No, I’m being sarcastic, I really am glad I didn’t go and I hope something worse was avoided. I really do believe that is the case.

SCUBA - Sabrina, Can U Breathe Adequately?

2005-06-09T11:59:00.000-07:00

So, we decided to get Scuba Certified. We signed up for classes and bought our required gear. The whole time I was thinking, man, I hope I like diving, this is an expensive sport! There are 6 three-hour classes over the month of June, followed by a weekend of ocean diving in Monterey. In the classes, we dive in the pool at the training facility and we learn and practice necessary scuba skills. The first obstacle was doing the instruction booklet. We had to have all the lessons done prior to the first class. We stayed up REALLY late trying to get it all done, because we didn’t have a lot of time to complete it. We finished about an hour before class… So, here’s what happened on the first lesson:

First of all, we were late. I know, big surprise, right??? No, this time it was not our fault, I swear. But anyway, we were late, so they were a little irritated with us. Next, I brought all the equipment, but I didn’t realize that the fins were separate from all the other stuff. I left the fins in the garage at home. Don’t do a lot of good there. So they lent us each a pair of fins. We’re making a great first impression.

So we go out to the pool deck, and the first task is to prove we are able to swim and tread water. We have to swim 7 laps (14 if you count front and back. I like to say 14 because it makes me feel better that I felt so whooped afterwards.) That amounted to 200 yards of swimming. There were no rules as to what stroke you had to swim or time limit, only that you could not stop and rest on the walls because in the ocean, there are no walls, and we are supposed to be simulating the ocean. So we swam our laps and treaded water for 10 minutes. The treading was easy, I am good at that.

Next they set up our gear and give us a general overview of everything. We get in the water before putting the gear on, to make it easier for us. Now it is time to practice diving.

So they tell us to go under water and we were going to practice some skills. Well, Mike went under and immediately started breathing and swimming and everything. So did “E”, our classmate. Let me back up. “E” is this hard-core Russian guy, with a really thick accent. He told us he took on the American version of his name when he moved here, to make it easier for us (stupid Americans, you know…) to pronounce his name. Well, his Russian name was easy to pronounce. And I would have thought if he was going to pick and “American” name, he should have picked something like Joe or John. The one he picked was not all that common. So Mike was talking to him about his Russian name, and when Mike pronounced it, he said “How do you know that name? You pronounce it well.” Mike told him “It’s the same as _____, you know, from the San Jose Sharks?” And “E” says “What are San Jose Sharks? Sharks are bad for divers…” So Mike says “No. The hockey team? Oh, nevermind.” A Russian who doesn’t know hockey? There’s one stereotype out the window. I went to high school with a girl from Sweden who thought all Californians surfed to school… I guess it is possible all Russians don’t like Hockey. Anyway, back to the scuba lesson. As soon as I put my face in the water I started to freak out. Here’s what happened:

1. I have always hated having my face in the water, ever since I was a little kid taking swim lessons. I refused to put my face in and swim properly as a child, and darn it, it is not any less scary now as an adult.
2. I have asthma, and I was required to get a doctor’s note prior to participating. When I got to class and told them “Hey, I have asthma, but my Doc says I’m good to go,” one of the instructors faces turned to stone and he started giving me the list of risks and all the problems it could cause me, and started asking all these questions. I felt like I was on one of those sketchy prescription drug ads, where they list all the side effects – some people may experience loss of consciousness, air embolism, loss of feeling in your pinky toe, and in rare cases, death… So I guess subconsciously that had me freaked out.
3. Have you ever gone underwater and tried to breathe? It is not natural. It feels wrong. The first time I tried it, I felt like I should be spitting and coughing up water, not being "one with my underwater environment."

Basically, I had a really hard time with it. Mike was next to me, and he said my eyes turned as big as saucers. I immediately stood up and ripped the regulator out of my mouth and started gasping for air. Two instructors came over and were asking if I was ok, and encouraging me to try again. So I did. Same result. I stood up, and I said “I DO NOT LIKE THIS!” I was right on the verge of getting out of the pool and selling my gear on e-bay. Seriously, I hated it. So, one instructor tells me to just put the regulator in, go down until just my mouth is in the water, and practice breathing thru the regulator to get used to it. Well, on the surface, breathing thru the regulator is harder than it is when you are under water. So another instructor, seeing that I was about to throw in the towel, comes over and says “Look. Just go under, lie on the bottom, and breathe. I know it feels weird, but just do it. It is easier to breathe once you are under. Trust me, you will be fine.” That’s where the two little people on my shoulders came in, you know, like the ones Sylvester the Cat gets when he's thinking about eating Tweety. We’ll call one “Pro” and the other “Con.”

Con: Oh my GOD! Get out of the water NOW!!! This is scary! You can’t breathe! You’re gonna diiiii-eeeeeeee!

Pro: You can’t quit, you’ve never quit anything in your life!

Con: But there’s a first time for everything, so get the hell outta here! Go back to dry land!

Pro: Look, everyone else is doing fine, get under there and stop being such a wuss! Think of everything you’ll miss if you quit. You won't see fish, or coral reefs, or anything like that.

Con: If you wanna see fish, go to an aquarium. Just get out of the water!

Pro: Don’t be such a girl. Just go under and breathe. You’ll be fine.

So I take a big breath, close my eyes for a second, and tell myself to just calm down and dive. The gear is made for this. All these people do it and are fine. I open my eyes, and slowly descend into the pool. Now, I am still in only 4 feet of water, so if I bug out again I can just stand up. I go down and lay on the bottom of the pool. I start relaxing and breathing on my regulator. I exhale and a whole crap-load of bubbles start coming out. I think “Oh my God, there’s something wrong with my equipment” then I realize I am breathing out, the air has to go somewhere… Ok, bubbles are good. So the instructor comes up and gives me the “Are you OK?” symbol, and I give the sign back, saying I am ok. So the instructor gave me a little clap, yay, you finally did it, you big sissy.

Anyway, about 3 minutes later, everything just clicked and I was having the best time! At the end of the night, the instructors told us we were a great class and they were happy we were all catching on so well.

We went back for lesson 2 on Wednesday (yesterday). It was sooooo much better than day 1. We assembled our own gear, we wore wet suits (which I actually didn’t love, it restricts your mobility), and it just seemed more natural. So much so that the instructors taught us some extra skills that were not on the schedule. It was great. We went under in the deep end, and in our free swim time, we played Frisbee under water, threw some rubber missiles, chased each other around. It was awesome. Definitely a workout, though, that gear is heavy.

Anyway, I guess “Pro” must have won out in the argument, and I’m glad, it was a great time. I can’t wait for the ocean diving!

Our Theme Park Trip

2005-06-02T12:52:00.000-07:00

Knott’s
We finally got to Knott’s at about 2:30pm or so. We went into the park and started walking around. We found this ride that Alex could go on that was a mini version of an adult ride that shoots you up in the air and bounces you back down to the ground. I have this picture of him on it, and all the other kids either look bored or terrified, and Alex is sitting there smiling with his arms up in the air. It is so funny. So, it was about 2 hours since we got there, and we all felt really uncomfortable. Most of the crowd was made up of gang-banger looking types. I can’t say for sure if they were or not, but like the 17th guy I saw flashing a blue bandana had a tattoo on his neck that said XIII, so I was pretty sure it was gang related. Oh, and the funniest one we saw was the guy in the wheelchair, equipped with triple-gold wheels, flashing his bandana. So we called the $35 a piece admission a learning lesson and got the hell outta dodge. So I really don’t recommend Knott’s in case anyone was wondering.

Princess-In-Training
Madi was super-cute the whole trip. When she waves, she just moves her little hand side to side like a princess would do. So on the tram she was waving all the way into Disneyland, even when there were no people to wave at. When there were people, she’d blow kisses. What a ham. Speaking of ham, that kid can eat. We’ve known that all along, but seriously, she ate more chicken in our 3-day trip than most kids eat in 2 weeks. We had to get her a chicken nugget kids meal like every 3 hours. And she’d eat them all every time. Alex tried to eat a nugget and she clobbered him. I hooked the little lunchbox they give you to the handle of the stroller and she’d flip around and try to get the box with the nuggets and fries in it. And she’d make this sucking noise to try to get all the juice out of the chicken. It was hilarious. And she liked the rides, especially the ferris wheel, because the cars slide and rock, and it was a little scary. Her eyes got really big and she started this little nervous/excited laugh. During the Electric Light Parade, she was dancing and bopping to the music, and she made friends with the people around us, again doing her princess wave and blowing kisses.

Domo Arrigato, Captain Hygiene
Alex is obsessive about being clean. Anytime he goes potty or has any type of dirt, real or imaginary, on his hands, he has to wash them. He also insists on taking baths and brushing his teeth regularly. Remember this, it’s important later…

So we’re all excited about taking him on the Matterhorn at Disneyland. He didn’t meet the height requirement last time we went, so we were happy he’d get to go this time. We waited in line and there were about 50 Japanese tourists behind us. Mike went to see if the line on the other side of the mountain was shorter. I had picked Alex up because he was getting fidgety, and he started listening to the Japanese folks. He is really entertained by people speaking other languages. So he is watching them, eavesdropping. All of a sudden, he points at the guy directly behind me and says, “Look, mama!” So I just kinda ignore him and say “Yah, Alex,” and keep looking around. He does not give up, he really wants me to turn around and look at the guy. So he grabs my face, to be sure he has my full attention, and says “LOOK MAMA!” and points again, more aggressively, at the guy behind me. Ok, now I really don’t wanna look. I’ve read the magazine articles and seen the shows, you know, kids say the darndest things. I can’t wait to hear this one. So I reluctantly turn around and see this nondescript Japanese guy, probably 40 or so. I smile politely, so he doesn’t wonder why I’m looking at him, even though my child obviously takes some sort of interest in him. He smiles back, and I see what Alex was looking at. He had the nastiest grill you ever seen. His teeth were yellowed and in between each tooth was black, and so were his gums, like a long-time tobacco chewer or something. So, Alex says very loudly, “Look mama! Brush his teeth!” Oh my god. How mortifying. The people in front of us looked at him, too. They looked like maybe they were grandparents, and gave me that awkward “we’ve all been there” look. So I agree with Alex that his teeth look dirty, and take salvation in the fact that they guy didn’t speak English, so he didn’t know to feel badly. Just then, the guy’s friend, who was right next to him, waves at Alex and says “Hi little boy!” CRAP! They do speak English! Well, at least that one guy did. But they were playing with Alex, so they didn’t seem to have realized or didn’t care what had just happened.

More Little Stories
The Sully character (from Monsters, Inc) scared the crap out of Alex. He made this big roar and Alex started crying.

Madi learned to say “elephant” while we were at Disneyland. She saw a paining of an elephant and pointed at it. I told her it was an elephant, and she repeated “eh-pent”

Right before we left to come home, Nitro was either so excited or so nervous, that he had diarrhea. Too bad he had it on my foot.

Alex discovered that he could tell when he went pee in his diaper. Too bad he discovered it in the middle of Mickey’s Toontown, and was walking around holding his crotch, all hunched over like a monkey. He could tell it caused me distress, and when I asked him to stop, it just provoked him to do it more.

I saw several people walking their beasts, er, I mean kids, on leashes. I realized just what a horrible invention those things were when I saw a lady who was maybe 4’10” and 90 pounds being drug behind her 5’00”, 150 pound child. She wanted him to go one way, and he didn’t want to go, so he braced himself and started pulling like a donkey would pull a heavy cart, and almost took her right off her feet. Her response? She feebly said, “Honey, you’re going to pull mommy down.” Gimme a break.

While waiting for the Electric Light Parade to start, we let the kids play in the “street.” Alex was counting and hopping, and Madi was crawling around after him. It was pretty empty, so the were not in anyone’s way. Well, the last time he was going to hop, Alex went all the way across the street and noticed there were other people over there. He saw a boy who was about 10, and went up to him. He grabbed for the boy’s hand, but the boy didn’t want to play. You could tell Alex wanted to shake the boy’s hand, and I thought I kept hearing him say “I’m Alex.” So he was trying to make friends. I think he wanted the kid to hop with him. The boy’s mom started getting upset because Alex wouldn’t go away, so we called him back. It was so cute though, he really wanted to shake hands. So the people behind us asked him to come shake their hands, so he did and he was happy. Our little social butterfly Madi couldn’t be left out, so she blew kisses and crawled over for hugs. Too bad the kids are so shy, huh?

It was a great time, Alex knew everything that was going on, and Madi seemed to be having a great time. The fireworks show was AMAZING, and all the improvements for the 50th make it worth seeing. So if you’re on the fence about going, you should go, it was great!

La Guerra de la Galaxia (AKA STAR WARS)

2005-05-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the first time in months we are actually able to go to the movies, we choose to see the “Blockbuster hit of the summer” Star Wars. This is honestly the LAST time I listen to any critic reviews of movies.
First, before I tear into the movie, did you know that in other languages, they change the titles of American movies? Sorta makes sense, sorta doesn’t. For example, in Spanish, they do not call it “Star Wars.” They call it “La Guerra de la Galaxia.” War of the Galaxy. Not quite so snappy. And if any of you get HBO Latino, Univision, Galavision, etc, look at the titles of the movies now and then. They get loosely translated and I’m not sure the message is really there, especially the ones with titles that are plays on words. Anyway, when my mother-in-law came to watch the kids while we went to the show, she called it La Guerra de la Galaxia and it was a little funny to me. But I digress.

So, I go into this movie expecting wondrous things, considering the reviews were thumbs nowhere but up. After seeing it, I wonder exactly where the thumbs were up, if you get me… So, I won’t totally spoil it, but if you don’t like to know a lot about a movie or read reviews prior, don’t read on.

George Lucas, you know how to blow stuff up. You make spectacular things happen with light and sound, and man, those droids are amazing. But George, the love scenes should be left to the writers of movies like “You’ve Got Mail,” or “Wedding Planner,” or other chick-flick fare. Having Anniken Skywalker and Padme be romantic is way outside your realm (as witnessed in Episode 2). Now, I also disliked Episode 2. But it has been a while since I saw it and I don’t remember all the reasons in such detail, so we won’t go there.
First, she is supposedly waaaaaaaay older than him. Kinda icky, the thought is, as master Yoda would say.
Second, Anniken is very troubled, in a seething, angry sort of way. Wake up and smell the dark side, Padme, he’s not the little boy he was last episode. He doesn’t exactly project “lover” in any of that.
Third, Padme tells Anni she is preg-o in front of the Senate Hall (or whatever they call it). They stand behind this large pillar and she tells him she has some “wonderful news.” She tells him she is pregnant with his child. He has a fleeting moment of terror, as does almost every man who was not expecting the news, especially not in that setting, then he tells her it is wonderful and he wants everyone to know they are married. She tells him she will for sure be booted from the Senate if they know she is carrying his baby, etc. Well, if that’s the case, why did you pick the front door of the Senate building to tell him you got a bun in the oven? Duh. And why doesn’t anyone ever ask her who her baby daddy is? It doesn’t exactly take a Jedi to figure it out.
Last, they are lying in bed, and Anni has the premonition/dream of when Padme dies. He gets up, wearing only sleeping pants, and we get a shot of his flashy metal arm. Remember, the real one got chopped off last episode. So I start thinking, how hot is that for Padme? That must be some good times for her, you know, getting down with Anni and his metal grabber. Now, this movie is supposed to be about imagination and you have to let your mind go when you watch it… well, I tried imagining them having an “intimate moment”, and this is what I get: First, “the claw” must make that hydraulic noise when it moves. Very Enticing. “Come here, Padme. (beckons her with index finger… rrrrr-eeeee—eeee-eeer) Let me stroke your skin.” All I get after that is Padme saying, “Don’t touch me with that thing! How many times do I have to tell you it hurts? It’s just creepy. Keep it off me.” Maybe I just have a comedy imagination instead of a sci-fi one. I mean put yourself in their shoes. Imagine a special moment with your loved one. Now add a metal hand. Kills it, right?

Now for the battle scenes - ugh! I don’t know why, but they seemed so much more powerful in the original Star Wars’. When they flew in transporters and stuff, it was cool, not overdone. This time around, it is all fast-paced flying and your eyes can barely keep up. In the old Star Wars, I can remember thinking, “Oh my gosh, Han Solo and Chewbacca are flying on transporters through the forest! That is so cool!” Now I just think, “I wish they’d stop doing so many camera angles, I can’t even tell which ship is theirs.”

Also, just how long do you think it is possible for two people to fight in a light-saber battle on a burning piece of metal floating in a lava river before someone gets fried? Definitely not as long as it took Vader and Obi Wan. I mean, it was a landmark fight scene, spoiled by an unimaginable backdrop. And Obi Wan, don’t you know that you never assume the bad guy is dead? Even though you chopped off his legs and his flesh is on fire, you can’t turn your back and walk away because he will miraculously be extinguished and claw his way to the top of a hot ashen mountain with the aforementioned metal hand and be saved by an ever insightful Darth Sidious. No, really, that’s what happened. (Excuse me? Is anyone out there? I'm very badly burned, but I'm still alive... Anyone?)

And I just can’t understand why it was so easy to turn Anniken to the dark side. I mean, they literally spent 5 minutes on that, and there didn't seem to be much convincing to be done. I just thought it would have been more of a moral battle for him and they didn’t make it seem like it was. They spent more time hunting down the Droid General Grievous than they did on the moral dilemma of Anniken Skywalker turning to the dark side. I think we saw more of Obi Wan’s feelings about it than Anniken’s. I mean, I know he did it to save Padme, but how naïve, to actually believe he could save her from her fate of death in a matter of months, and that she would even continue to be with him after the actions he took. I guess I just gave him more credit than that. It seemed like George Lucas could have at least made it a little harder for him to decide to go over. Although, it really does make you dislike the Darth Vader character, and I think I would have more appreciation for his evil in the original movie.

My last real gripe, which I mentioned earlier, is about Vader’s physical condition after the burning incident. Ok, in real life, Vader would have been Darth-B-Que. But this is obviously NOT reality, so OK, let’s save Vader. Darth Sidious, in what appears to be a direct scene from Frankenstein, rebuilds Vader’s body, and puts the infamous black mask over his face, and the Darth-Vader-breathing is born. Darth gets up from the table where he was “assembled” and begins questioning Darth Sidious about Padme’s fate. Sidious tells Vader basically that in his haste to save Padme, he actually killed her by destroying her will to live. That’s all fine, but Vader’s next move is to start screaming “Noooooooooooooo!” (Think Rocky Marciano shouting “Aaaaa-drieeennnne!”) I actually yelled that in the theater. I’m not sure anyone else thought it was funny. But after he was just able to slay a bunch of young Jedi with his light-saber, it is very un-Vader-like for him to cry over spilled milk. Get over it evil Lord Vader, what did you think was going to happen?

To wrap it up, there was a bright spot. The most redeeming quality of the movie, for me, was that Jar Jar Binks had no speaking role. He might have gotten some other things wrong, but let’s all thank George for that.

The interrupter

2005-04-22T08:13:00.000-07:00

Every parent knows that a huge milestone for a toddler is learning how not to interrupt. Alex always seems to have some reason to interrupt when I'm talking. He started out in the "in-your-face" phase, where whenever I'd have a conversation, he'd come and put his little face right next to mine and say, "Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama?..." until I'd finally say "WHAT?!?" We had a talk about interrupting when people are talking, and he got a little better. He'd just call for me from across the room instead of in my face.

So once he got a little bit older, I explained to him that when people talk, he needs to wait until they are finished, or if it is really important, he can say "excuse me" and we'll see what he needs. Well, that worked, but he'd say, "Mama, Mama, 'scuse me..." Then I'd say, "Yes, buddy, what do you need?" Then he'd look really pensive for a minute and say, "Hi-iiii Mama..." with this cute grin. So next we had to go into what is considered important and what isn't. I told him if he was hurt or had to go potty, he could tell me, otherwise he had to wait. Well, one day, I was so fed up with him butting in I said, "Alex, unless you are on fire or need an ambulance, I don't want to hear it. Quit interrupting." Problem solved, right?

Well, Alex is nothing if not imaginative. I can already see he is going to challenge our skills at staying one step ahead of him. We are going to have to get smarter if we are going to keep up with him. And who knows what Madi will bring... Anyway, the little genius must have been thinking about it for a while, because you could tell he had a plan. My mom and I were sitting on her couch having a conversation, when Alex emerged from the bedroom carrying his stuffed monkey. He marched right over and used the monkey's arm to tap on my arm.

Alex: "Mama? 'scuse me, mama?"

Me: "Yes, Alex, what do you need?"

Alex: "Mama, munk-ney ambance." (Mama, monkey ambulance)

Me: "The monkey needs an ambulance?"

Alex: "Yah, munk-ney ambance." (nods head in agreement)

(Smart, huh? HE isn't interrupting, he's getting the monkey the medical attention he needs...)

Me: "Why does the monkey need an ambulance?"

Alex: "Back hurt..." (makes a grimacing face, turns the monkey over and gently pats his back)

Me: "The monkey hurt his back and now he needs an ambulance, huh?"

Alex: "Yah." (nods head again)

So I take a look at the monkey, pretend to assess his injury, and determine he just needs to go lie down in bed, no ambulance would be necessary. So Alex says, "Ok, thank you mama" and drags the monkey off to bed.

How funny that he went to all that trouble just to interrupt my conversation. Seriously, if he is this smart now, add another little smarty-pants to the mix, and those kids are going to have us baffled in no time. I better keep up on my Ginko supplements... :)

The collar

2005-04-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, it has been a while. I have had so many funny stories to share, but no time to share them. This one though, begged to be passed on and I had to make time.

So, we were all outside yesterday, doing yard work in the front yard. I was taking a break, sitting on the porch with Madi and Nitro. Alex was helping Mike fix the lawn, since the neighborhood kids we let mow it did an AWFUL job. All at once, Alex dropped everything he was doing and ran for the front door, deciding he needed to go put on a hat. He is very particular about wearing hats while he does any type of cleaning at all, since I always wear a bandana on my hair when I clean, he needs something on his head too.

Nitro happened to be lying in front of the screen door, blocking Alex from going in. Alex very politely said “’scuse me, Ti-to” and went on in. He returned a minute or so later, donning one of his sister’s furry snow hats with bear ears. His head was squeezed in so tight it reminded me of a fat lady in Lycra… LOL Anyway, I took him back inside and helped him find a more suitable hat. We found an Australian Outback looking hat for him to wear, also a little on the small side, but he could get one more wear out of it. So we went back outside to continue our yard duty.

Nitro had once again made himself comfortable, right in front of the door. With a hearty “’scuse me, Ti-to!” he flung the screen open and whacked the dog with it. Poor Nitro moved out of the way, and this time, stood on the porch looking at us, probably wondering if he was going to get moved again. So I walked with Madi to go stand on the grass, where Mike was pulling a few weeds. Alex left the door wide open, so I told him to go back and close it. He walked up onto the porch, where Nitro was still standing, waiting for his next order to move.

Alex closed the door. Now, from my previous stories, you all know that Alex knows the German commands for Nitro. He really likes to give him the commands and see that Nitro listens to him. So, here’s what unfolded from there…

Mike: Alex, please tell Nitro to lie down.

Alex: Ti-to, way down. (He doesn’t say “L” very well yet)

Mike: No, tell him in German. Tell him to ‘platz.’

Alex: Ti-to, potz! (gives him the hand signal as well)

Nitro circles around and sits down in front of the door. Alex starts to run off.

Mike: Hey, buddy, he’s not laying down, tell him again to platz.

Alex: (runs back over) Ti-to! Potz!

Nitro gets up and stands again.

Mike tells Alex to grab hold of his collar and command him to platz, while gently but firmly pulling down on his collar. Alex looked a bit confused, but approached Nitro to begin the task.

Alex takes a wide-legged stance and squats down at Nitro’s side, near his hind leg. He tilts his head and looks under the dog, apparently trying to assess what exactly a “collar” is and how he’s going to go about tugging on it. He starts to reach under the dog. Mike and I yell in unison, “NO! The collar! Not that!”

Alex looks perplexed. From his crouching position, he looks at us, then back at Nitro, who is waiting patiently for whatever is about to befall him.

Alex again tilts his head, looks under the dog, and makes another grab for the “collar.” So I shout, “No, honey, his necklace, grab his necklace and pull it down. Don’t touch anything under him.”

Alex takes his hand back and Mike walked over to demonstrate. What a way to learn that your toddler does not know what a collar is. So Mike showed him the real collar, and how to make him lay down when he doesn’t listen.

Nitro, spared from what I can only hope would have been an unpleasant experience, lay down again in front of the door, to await the next time Alex decided he needed something from inside. Hopefully next time he’ll just listen and won’t need his “collar” yanked!

We've officially reached the 'Terrible Twos'

2005-03-03T09:12:00.000-08:00

Ok, I thought when Alex learned the word "No!" we had reached them. Then I thought when he had his first tantrum we'd reached them for sure. No no, it gets better... well, worse actually. Now, when he doesn't want something, or he wants something but can't have it, he shrieks this horrible high-pitched scream, and cries, and writhes around. It got so bad I walked away from him in the store and said "Bye, Alex." Of course I kept an eye on him, but he finally quit and came running after me.

So, I've come up with my own solutions for how to make him stop. When he starts shrieking, I deploy one of the following tactics:
1. Pretend to ignore him - Usually he stops within about a minute or so. Probably the recommended solution by pediatricians...
2. Laugh wildly and point at him - he gets really mad at first, but then usually ends up laughing too.
3. Show him a mirror - he does not like to look at himself when he screams.
4. Scream back - mocking a 2 year old is kind of fun if you are in the mood. It actually relieves some stress if you don't mind looking like a maniac.
5. Taunt him - The last time he was screaming I asked him, "Is that all you've got? Come on, Dorothy, you gotta do better than that!" (If you've seen 'She's the One' you'll get it.) I don't strongly recommend trash-talking a little kid, and I'm not sure he got the point, but it was funny, and he stopped screaming nonetheless.

Really, I think there is a pre-programmed switch inside children that on their second birthday, they lose all the sense they'd gained up to that point. The switch also controls Alex's vocabulary, apparently. I truly believe he knows everything. I can't even spell words to hide what I'm talking about. I don't think he can spell, he's just that smart to put two and two together. I said, "I need to go take care of the P-U-P-P-Y, so I'll be right back." And Alex yells, "Mama! Puppy!" Ok, how'd he know that? I can see how parents can get outsmarted by their kids. The other day we were driving and he points out the window and says, "Mama, cow!" I look around, not really expecting to see a cow, but checking anyway before I tell him there aren't any. I don't see any cows. We were on the freeway interchange. I said, "No, buddy, there are no cows over here." He pointed the other way on the interchange and said "Mama, COW!" So I thought, and if we drive that way, there are sometimes cows on the hillside. So I said, "Oh, yah, there are cows if we go that way." He seemed frustrated. He pointed out the window again and said "Mama! Cowd!!" Oh, wait a minute, maybe he isn't saying cow. I didn't hear the 'd' before. So I take a quick look over my shoulder and see where he is pointing. Then he said, "Mama, snow." Oh, ok, he used to call clouds snow. Cloud sounds like cow. So I said, "Oh, did you learn the word CLOUD? Good job!" He got a huge smile and said, "Cowd." I was amazing that he used the old word he knew before to make me understand what he was saying.

That brings me to another cute story. I'm always telling him he's a smart cookie. So today he called himself "Smart Cookie" and made the ASL sign for 'smart' at the same time. Hey, he really is a smart cookie.

And the cute little Princess Madi-cakes. Or should I say spoiled little Madi-cakes. In order to avoid her keeping Alex up at night with her crying (since they share a room), we let her fall asleep in our laps in the living room. Well, no more. Last night I decided I'd had enough and she needs to sleep on her own. She's 8 months old already, and I don't want a 1 year old who won't go to sleep in her own crib. So I let her scream it out. When Alex was little he topped out at 14 minutes. It was excruciating to let him scream. It was our first child, and we couldn't stand for him to cry. Well, it's a little easier now, seeing that we are experienced at this, and we know she'll be okay if she cries a little. It's just stressful to hear your baby cry and not go in. Anyway, I let her scream. 7 minutes... 13 minutes, I'll just go see if she's ok. I peek in, she's fine. I'll try to sneak away, CREAK! Damn hardwood, crap she saw me. 22 minutes... 28 minutes... she's winding down. 32 minutes. Silence. I'll give her a few more minutes, then go check again. 5 minutes go by, I creep in to check her, trying to avoid the creaky spots in the floor. She appears to be sleeping. I sneak back to my chair. I sit down. Waaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Ok, what gives? So I let her scream. 2 minutes, she was out and slept all night. We'll see how long it takes her tonight. I think it only took Alex 4 or 5 nights to stop fighting it. Now he's a great sleeper.

Madi is also pulling up on the furniture now. If you hold her hands, she walks. My mom said she pulled up on the couch yesterday, then turned around, pivoted, and lunged over to the table. She made it without falling. She's growing up so fast!

Alex's birthday party was fun, except that the second we got to the park and got everything set up, the sky opened up and it poured. So everyone scooped up the decorations and food and made a dash for the house. So there were a lot of people in the house. But the pinata was fun, and everyone had a good time.

What do you mean there's no such thing as a duck fairy?

2005-02-12T07:33:00.000-08:00

Madi said her first word yesterday, according to my mom. We missed it, being at work, but she said it. My mom and Alex were singing and dancing Madi around saying "Duck" and she said "Duck!" Which is funny, because duck was Alex's first word as well. She also waves bye-bye, but it is very flail-y and looks more like an involuntary jerking than waving, but it's what she does every time we ask her to wave bye-bye, so I'm sure that is what she means to do.

Alex has become quite attached to this Hippo bathtub toy. It is a cute purple hippo with a yellow inner tube on it's waist that says "HOT" on the bottom, and you are supposed to put it in the water to test the temp of the bath. If the "HOT" turns white, it is too hot. It doesn't work, but he likes to play with it. Two weeks ago, he learned the word Hippo. So ever since then he and the hippo are inseparable. He's also in this stage where he has to have a whole zoo in his bed at night. We call it his menagerie. He's got 2 monkeys, 2 ducks, a large bear, a small lamb, a frog 'Sqwish' pillow, and a cup of water. Each of them have a specific place in bed. But I draw the line at the rubber hippo. There will be no bath toys in bed.

Here's the bed arrangement: Mr. Bear was a pre-birth gift I found at Toys R Us. He now uses him as a sort of a big furry pillow on the wall-side of his bed. He hugs him, lays his head on Mr. Bear's chest and goes to sleep.

On the pillow, near the top of the bed, the small lamb he calls "Mim." It was cut off of a precious moments mobile when Madi was done with it.

In the corner, on the door-side of the bed, is a monkey with very long arms he likes to hang around his neck when he's awake. He calls him "Oooh-oooh."

In that monkey's lap, the second monkey who he also calls "Oooh-oooh." It is a Curious George.

Behind the monkeys is where he tells me to put the drink cup. Every night, I lay him down, he calls me back and asks for a drink. I go get his cup, he moves the monkeys, pats the corner of the bed and says "Here." Then the monkeys lean on the cup.

He got a 'Sqwish' pillow shaped like a frog the other day and he now puts that on the side of the bed in front of the monkeys.

Now comes the crucial menagerie member - Mr. Duck. Now, if you remember, I said 2 ducks. Well, up till last night, there was one duck. This duck used to hang above his bassinette when he was a newborn and we'd pull the body down like an accordion and it would sing. When he was 1, I took the duck and put it in a bag for storage because he didn't seem to care for it. He saw it and took it out of the bag and has kept it as his favorite ever since. You see, Mr. Duck #1 has been through a lot; washings, etc, and his internal music box broke. We had to sew together his accordion body so it wouldn't hang. We have been hunting for the past year for a new Mr. Duck who can still sing and is just like the old one. All the stores, even the Carter's company who made Mr. Duck, said it stopped production in 2002 and is no longer available. Mi-Mi (Alex's grandma, my momma) searched E-bay and finally found a new Mr. Duck last week.

Enter Mr. Duck #2. He looks the same in construction, but the material for his cloth accordion body is different. Mr. Duck #1 has white fabric with little pastel animals on it. Mr. Duck #2 has pale yellow fabric with tiny white ducks on it.

I told my mom, "Thanks for looking, but it's NOT the same. He's gonna know the difference." Mi-Mi insisted that he would not know the difference, if we presented it properly. So the plan she devised was that after Alex went to sleep, I'd remove Mr. Duck #1, and take him to a safe hiding place for repairs and display in a shadow box. I'd replace him with Mr. Duck #2. When Alex woke up, I'd tell him the "duck fairy" came and fixed Mr. Duck and he works again. You should have seen it, grown adults planning and debating over the best way to fool a two-year old.

Ok, I'll try it. I DON'T think it will work, but I'll try it. I lay Alex down for bed, and help him arrange his zoo. I swear, sometimes at night when I check on him, I have to really let my eyes adjust to see which thing is him in the bed. Anyway, he lays down, we do the standard drink ritual, I bring the drink and put it in the corner. He picks it up and takes a few sips, then as I leave the room and say "Good-night!" Alex says "'Night!... Mama?? Hippo."

*SIGH* It is 9:45 already. "No, Alex, you may not sleep with the Hippo, he is a bathtub toy, not a bed-buddy."

"Mama... Hippo!"

"No, Alex, go to sleep. I love you. Good-Night."

"Hmmmm-hmmm. (Love you) 'Night!"

9:50 - I'm getting Madi situated and ready for her night-night bottle. "Mama? Maaaaaa-maaa... Mama!"

"Yes, Alex? What is it?"

"Hippo."

*SIGH* Ok, would it kill him to have the hippo? No. Let me look for it.

"Ok, buddy, Mama has to look for the hippo. Where is he?"

"Hippo!"

"Yah, I'm looking for the hippo." (On hands and knees looking under the couch) "Do you know where he is?"

"Yup!"

"Ok, come get him, then go back to bed."

My dinner is now cold. Madi is crying because she is getting really tired. Alex comes zooming down the slide and trots out to the living room with a big smile on his face.

"Ok, find the Hippo! Then you need to go back to bed."

I sit down to finish my now cold bunless beef frank and avocado half. Here comes Alex, still hippo-less, looking at my dinner. "Mama? Eat. A-wo-co-co (avocado)." Seriously? Now you're gonna eat my food too? So he eats 1/2 of my half. I inquire about the status of the hippo. He resumes his search. 10 minutes later...

"Ok, it is time for bed. I'll keep looking for the Hippo, you go lay down."

We go to his room, he gets in bed. I quickly scan the rooms of the house, still no sign of a hippo. I feed Madi her bottle, and go put her in bed. It's 10:20. Man am I tired. Hey, Alex looks like he's asleep, I'll try the duck switch. I go out to the car, since I need to see if the hippo is there anyway, and I get the new duck. I re-affirm my thoughts to myself that Mr. Duck #1 will prevail over the challenger, Mr. Duck #2. But, I'll give it a shot anyway. Ok, I've searched the car, no hippo... crap. The new Asian neighbors totaled one of their cars and it arrives on a very noisy flatbed whose driver can't seem to maneuver on a court, so he keeps driving forward and backing down the street. I stop momentarily to watch the debaucle, shake my head, and go inside. His reverse warning beeping system is incessant. Just drop the car already, go to the end of the court, flip a bitch, and get the hell out of here.

I walk back inside, minus the elusive hippo, and go in for the substitution. I see he is laying quietly, perhaps he is sleeping. I approach the bed to make the switch. I gently pull Mr. Duck #1 and relace him with Mr. Duck #2. I sneak out of the room, both kids asleep. It is 10:30.

10:35 - "Mama? Duck. . . Mama! Duuuuuu-uuuck!"
No. No, no, no. How does he know? He's 2. He doesn't know not to stick his hand in his pee-stream, he consistently dumps snacks on the floor, and he can't seem to understand the word "No," but he managed to figure out at 10:30 pm in the dark, while sleeping, and after only a couple minutes that the duck is different? Sign this boy up for the FBI because that's what we call a clue!

I psych myself up for the fooling really quickly, and go in. I ask him what's wrong, and he holds up the imposter. He scowls at it, and says "Duck." with this cute, yet knowing little frown on his face. So I take a little breath and give my best attempt at the "Duck-Fairy" story.

"You know what happened? (I took your duck because he's raggedy and busted) The duck-fairy came and fixed your duck. She made him sing again! (Yes, I am full of s**t) What do you think? (besides that I am a nut)"

"Mamaaaaaaaaa, duuuuuuuu-uuck!" (in his most pathetic whine yet) He scowls again at #2. Here's the wind-up, and the pitch! #2 takes flight and lands on the end of the bed. Alex starts crying for his REAL duck, not the one he made fly the coop.

*S-I-G-H* Madi is awake and has joined in the crying to support her big brother. Damn duck-fairy. I feel like Yosemite Sam, cursing the duck-fairy as I storm out of the room to retrieve Mr. Duck #1 from under my covers. Rick-a-frackin mumble-mumble... Anyway, I get #1 and bring him back in. I retrieve #2 from his resting place, teetering on the edge of the bed frame. I demonstrate him to Alex, reminding him how he sings and is nice and clean. He smiles, seeming to accept #2, and takes him into the menagerie. I ask him for #1, and explain to him what I really want to do with it, how I want to clean him and display him in a shadow box with other little items he had, like his first booties, and a light blue bear that says "It's a boy." He scowls at me now, and says "No. Duck." Um, okaaaaay...

"Fine. Keep them both. We'll just leave room in the shadow box for Mr. Duck (#1) when you're done with him. Lay down and go to sleep."

I walk out of the room, taking Madi with me so she can relax on my lap and stop disturbing Alex. As I close the door over, I hear Alex's small little voice again...

"Mama? Hippo."

Ugh. I can't win. Finally at 11:30, I put Madi down and straighten up my mess. I get to bed at about 12:30. This morning, I get ready for work, and I leave, and I went to look in Mike's truck for the hippo, since it is the only place I could not look last night. There was the hippo, under the passenger seat in the back. Finally! I ran back inside and handed Mi-Mi the hippo. She was also happy to see it since I told her he'd probably be searching for the hippo all day. She was not happy that the Duck-Fairy story did not work.

I get to work, and about 7:45 I get a call. It was Mi-Mi. She told me Alex woke up right after I left. The first thing he asked for?

"Mi-Mi? Hippo."

Ta-da! Here's your hippo, little boy. He went back to sleep, hippo in hand. So I guess now it's 2 monkeys, 2 ducks, a large bear, a small lamb, a frog 'Sqwish' pillow, a cup of water and a rubber purple hippo.

Is it a bad day?

2005-02-08T02:33:00.000-08:00

Ok, first of all, I keep spelling 'day' wrong. I keep putting 'ady' instead of 'day.' I haven't slept in, well, 2 years, since that is when Alex arrived, but really in the last 3 days it has been particularly bad. I look in the mirror and feel like I look really old. I found 3 more grey hairs. They have made a nice home for themselves in my dark tresses, and I think if I keep plucking, I really will go bald because there are so many. My question is, how is it that the whole strand suddenly turns grey? You know, that one time I colored my hair and it turned out carrot-orange, my natural color didn't just miraculously fill in one day, it took years to get it back to normal. But the grey hairs must get a special pass or something because the whole hair is now grey, and trust me I would have noticed it gradually appearing.

Anyway, back to my bad day. Mike went to work today. That was fine. We were having a nice phone conversation at about 1145 when the call waiting beeped. Now, I never had call-waiting until I moved in with Mike. I never needed it. My philosophy was if I was on the phone, the other person could wait. And if it was that important, they could have the operator break thru, but obviously that would be only in an emergency. Well, for some reason today I felt the need to answer it. I asked Mike to hold on, I clicked over and ever-so-cheerily said "Hello?" On the other end, my co-worker, "M." "Hi, Sabrina, this is 'M,'" in her slow, enunciated fashion.

F*&$!!! Why did I have to click over? Now she's gonna ask me to come in for OT and I can never say no.
"Hi, 'M,' what's up?"
"'R' called in sick for tonight, can you come in to work at all?"
"Um, (think of something, hurry up!) um, alright, I guess I could do some hours. I can't do the first half, but I guess I could do 0100-0700."
Why in the hell did I say that???!!!?? Why did I just volunteer myself to pull an all-nighter when I know I'll get no nap in and have to go all day tomorrow? I guess in my subconscious I figured someone else would take the shift. After all, I was the first one she had called. Someone else will take it I'm sure.
"Hey, if you get someone else, I'd much rather get the rest, so please let me know, OK?" ...

Three hours later ...

"Hi, Sabrina, it's 'M.' 'T' is gonna do the first half, so we'll see you at 0100."
There is no descriptive word for the way I just screwed myself. Ok, get it together, figure out a plan... So I took the kids to my parents' house, in hopes of getting some rest before going to work.

1630... Great, I've dropped them off, now I can go home and go to bed.

1702... Ok, everything is reasonably picked up, I'm getting in bed now.

1730... Sh*$! I can't fall asleep. Maybe I should get up and throw another load of laundry in, then I'll probably be tired.

1745... Well, at least more laundry is going, maybe I'll finally fall as l e e zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

1823... RRRRrrrrrrrring! RRRRRrrrrrrrring! Who is calling me?!? Don't they know I suddenly got called into work on my day off and I need my sleep?
Me: Hello? (slightly irritated)
Happy Lady: Hi! I'm calling from the Who Gives a Rat's Ass What My Name Is campaign for runoff re-election. Have you voted yet? You should have received your packet a few weeks ago.
Me: You know what? This is the 7th time someone from your organization has called me. I was really nice the first few times. But this is the 5th time I have asked for you to take me off your list. I don't want you to call me anymore.
Lady: Well, I can assure you this will be the last time we call, but let me just ask you, did you...
Me: Really? YOU can assure me that nobody else will call me? Because I felt pretty sure the last 5 people I asked to remove my name and number sounded competent enough to handle that task, but they weren't. So why are YOU suddenly the end-all of callers?
Lady: Well, uh, I...
Me: No, I have had it. You know what? I'll tell you something. The first guy who called got me while I was taking a shit. I didn't feel like talking so I told him I had voted. But you know what really happened? The same day I got my little blue ballot in the mail, my two-year-old took it to the shredder and made confetti out of it. And I didn't even care. And I still don't. Now, STOP CALLING ME. I don't want to hear anyone from your group again. Click.

Yah, a little harsh, but they are hard to get rid of and I've asked politely 5 other times. Besides, I just got to sleep. Ok, go back to sleep now. Whew, that felt good.

1841... Rrrrrrring! Rrrrrring!
Me: Hello.
Bobby: Hey.
Me: Hello.
Bobby: What's up?
Me: Nothing.
Bobby: Oh.
Me: . . . what's up, bro?
Bobby: Oh, I was trying to call Mike. But he was busy then he never called me back. When's Alex's party?
Me: the 27th. Sunday.
Bobby: Are you OK?
Me: Yah, sorry, I was trying to sleep, I got called into work.
Bobby: Oh, ok, I'll let you go.

1844... RRRrrrrring! RRRrrrrring! Rrrrrrring! Rrrrrring!
Me: Hello!!!!
Mom: Hola Mamita, como esta?
Me: Bien mom, y usted?
Mom: Bien. Esta Mike?
Me: No, esta trabajando.
Mom: Oh, ok, voy a tratar de llamar a el.
Me: Ok, bye.

1856... Rrrrrring! Rrrrring!
Me: Hello.
Person: Hi! I'm calling from...
Click.

Forget it. I'll just get up and keep working around the house. I'll go to sleep after '24' is over.

Ok, we didn't watch 24 until an hour after it aired, it finished at 2305, and I still didn't get to go to bed. So now I am up since 0645, I have to work til 0700 today, and I have a full day ahead of me. Excuse me while I pound some Diet Rockstar. Ooooh, doesn't go well with Albuterol, now I have the shakes really bad. I guess that explains why I can't spell 'ady.' NO! DAY!! Damn it!

Little Known Facts

2005-02-05T08:50:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I posted anything. My friend Jen sent me this e-mail with a bunch of random facts. I don't know how true some of them are, but they are fun anyway.

Oh, and you've all heard the one about how a duck's quack doesn't echo, right? Well, I was watching Mythbusters on the Discovery Channel, and they did a piece about it. A duck's quack does actually echo, but because the quack is sort of warbley sounding, it mimics the echo and you can't actually tell it is echoing. They had two really cute ducks and a bunch of special equipment and stuff. Neat, huh?

Ok, well here's my list of facts. Now you know the kinds of things that fill my brain. I might not remember your birthday, but I can tell you about a duck's quack! Just kidding, I always remember Birthdays. So what do you think gets pushed out of my brain by all these little tidbits of knowledge? ... What was I talking about? Oh well.

In the 1400's a law was set forth that a man was not allowed to beat his wife with a stick any thicker than his thumb...hence we have "the rule of thumb" .
Seriously?!? Beat me with a stick, see what happens. I don’t care how small it is.

Many years ago in Scotland, a new game was invented. It was ruled "Gentlemen only... Ladies Forbidden"...and thus the word GOLF entered into the English language.
So I guess ‘Women’s Golf’ is an oxymoron?

Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than the US Treasury.
And on that topic, I wonder how much it would save the US Gov’t to stop making pennies. I mean really, they are just a nuisance. Let’s round off.

Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.
What? I didn’t hear you…

Coca-Cola was originally green.
Doesn’t that make you wonder if your liver is supposed to be a different color than brown? Maybe it is just from all the caramel coloring in that six pack of Coke you drank.

It is impossible to lick your elbow.
Ow! Cramp! Ok, you really can’t do it.

The State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: Alaska
But it’s Ukiuk… and it’s cold outsiiiiiiide. Have you seen Sesame Street? No? You now think I’m crazy. Yes? You saw it? Then you know that’s the song Grover taught us when he visited the Eskimo’s in Alaska.

The percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28% (now get this...) The percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38%
That is just weird.

The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $6,400

The average number of people airborne over the US any given hour: 61,000
And boy are their arms tired! (Dah-dum-dum…)

Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.
I have banana and paint in mine… but that just makes me a mom :)

The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer.

The San Francisco Cable cars are the only mobile National Monuments.
What if it gets in an accident? Do you think SWITTRS has some sort of classification for that?

Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king from history:
Spades - King David
Hearts - Charlemagne
Clubs - Alexander, the Great
Diamonds - Julius Caesar

111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.
And if the horse has it’s back legs in the air, watchout, because those hoofs pack a wallop.

Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later.

Q. Half of all Americans live within 50 miles of what?
A. Their birthplace

Q. Most boat owners name their boats. What is the most popular boat name requested?
A. Obsession

Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?
A. One thousand

Q. What do bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common?
A. All invented by women.

Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?
A. Honey (But it does crystallize, and that’s gross)

Q. Which day are there more collect calls than any other day of the year?
A. Father's Day (Or maybe National Love-Your-Inmate Day)

In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on...hence the phrase......... "goodnight, sleep tight."
Ok, this is sort of inaccurate. When I went to England 12 years ago, I had the opportunity to actually visit Shakespeare’s birthplace. It was pretty cool, everything was really tiny though. People must have came smaller back then. Anyway, they do have ropes to tighten the bed, but not for comfort reasons. People didn’t do things for comfort back then, or we wouldn’t have corsets today, trust me. The reason they did it was to keep bugs out – you know, mites, fleas, etc. The tighter they wound the ropes (some of the beds had a crank-like mechanism) the less likely you were to end up with bug infestation in your mattress. I guess they couldn’t or didn’t like to get into such a tight spot. That’s why the whole phrase is actually “Good Night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” Straight from our historical tour guide, no BS.

It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon.
Can you imagine if their custom was to give something else, like milk or cheese or meat? We could all go on our Moo-Moon.

In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts.. So in old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down." It's where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's"

Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.
Wow, that is incredibly rude. Can you imagine being a bartender back then? That’s probably why they baked the whistle into the handle, so he couldn’t cram it down their throats.

Did you know that Bounce dryer sheets repel mice and mosquitos? (I just threw that on in there, but it's true.)

And Finally…

At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbow.
Come on, you know you tired it. There has to be someone in this world who can do it.

Did he just correct me?

2005-01-13T08:27:00.000-08:00

You know it's bad when your not-quite-two-year-old is correcting you. Alex is very interested in Nitro (AKA Ti-to), so he is quick to learn all things puppy-related. Including German commands. So, on Sunday morning, after we got off work, Mike fell asleep on the couch with Madi, while Alex and I were playing. I realized Nitro was still in the car, so I woke Mike up and asked him to let the dog out and feed him. . .

Me: Hey, the dog is still in the car. His food is ready on the counter, can you go let him out and feed him?

Mike: Mmmm-hmmm... (zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......)

10 minutes later...

Me: HEY! The dog is still in the car. Can you please let him out and feed him?

Mike: Okay. The Cakes (Madi) is sleeping... (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......)

10 minutes later...

Me: Okay, I'm gonna go let him out and feed him.

Mike: No, no, I'll do it, just give me a minute... (ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...)

15 minutes later...

Me: Okay, Alex, let's go feed the puppy. Come on.

(We walk out the garage door, out the side door, out the gate, to the truck, let Nitro out. He jumps down, I tell him to get busy, he goes pee. On my front lawn. Oh well, I'm too tired to deal with it. Come on lets go get the food. We walk into the garage.)

Alex: Ti-to, heee-ah! HEEE-AH!

I turn around and notice I have left the door to the house open. I catch a glimpse of furry booty rounding the corner into the living room. I see the kitchen floor is covered in muddy dog paws. Great.

Me: NITRO! He-ah! (slightly different pronunciation than Alex)

Alex: Mama, mama, mama... HEEE-AH.

Me: (Did he just correct my pronunciation?) NITRO! Hee-ah!

Nitro still roaming the house, stamping out muddy paws all over as he searches for the resting spot of his food bowl.

Alex: Ti-to! HEEE-AH! HEEE-AH!

Nitro comes running over and sits by Alex. Great, he listens to the toddler, but not me. I pick up the food bowl, and start to walk out side. Nitro keeps jumping up and taking huge snaps at the food. He actually got a mouthful, and managed to lightly coat my face with sprayed dog snot as he exhaled, while gulping his stolen mouthful. So I rush to his kennel, practically throw the food inside, and lock him in. Ughhhhh. This is nasty. I walk back inside.

Mike: Hey, why didn't you wake me? I would have fed him myself.

. . . nevermind . . .

Kiddie Kollege Katastrophe Kaper

2005-01-06T23:29:00.000-08:00

Alex had his first day of parent-toddler pre-school, or what they refer to as "Kiddie Kollege." First, we were told it was 1000-1130. We showed up at 1002, staying true to our family tradition of always being on time (HAH!), and commenced to playing. Turns out class is actually 0930-1100, so we missed out a bit.

Anyway, we walk in and Alex pulls the classic toddler move - grab Mama's leg and hold on for dear life. You'd think he was bracing for a tornado or something. He had a kung-fu death grip on my leg. He refused to go play unless I held his hand and accompanied him to the toys. This is very un-Alexlike. So he finally started playing and all was good.

There was another little boy, who was older than Alex, probably 2 1/2 or so, who has some serious self-control issues. He hits, swings, kicks, etc. And not because he's angry, he just can't control himself. And he's so ragga-muffin looking. I think they cut his hair with a bowl or something, it's really long and dirty, and he has eyes like that Droopy Dog that always have goo in them. And his nails are really dirty underneath. Look at me, I'm being catty about a little kid. Anyway, so Wild Raggamuffin is sitting there playing with this Playskool Service Garage thing and a bunch of Matchbox cars. He keeps rolling the cars down the driveway, onto this ramp that lowers down and drops the cars into a lower-level garage. This kid couldn't slow down long enough to figure out how to get the cars back out. His dad is sitting there watching him, just telling him to keep trying, he would figure it out. Alex moseys on over and crouches down and watches this kid for a minute. He studys him briefly, and sees that he can't get his cars out. When he first approaches, Wild Raggamuffin goes ape-shit and starts yelling at Alex and swinging his arms monkey-style to keep him away. What are you gonna fling poo at him too? Geez. So the dad goes, "(insert child's name here), he is just trying to help you get the cars out." I didn't say anything, because Alex is a tough kid, he can hold his own (If Alex had the words, his expression looked something like "Calm down, you lazy-eyed psycho!"). So the little boy looks at Alex and says, "Cars stuck." Alex barges his way past the kid, picks the whole Playskool Service Garage up, one hand on the top, one hand on the bottom, turns it upside down, and shakes it until all the cars come flying out in different directions onto the floor. He puts it back down, looks at the kid, shrugs his shoulders, holds his little hands out, palms up, and says "Done!" Then he walked off, on to another game.

At 1030, the teacher put on music, so Alex started dancing. We did not realize the music signified clean-up time. So we eventually got with the program and helped clean up toys. Point # 1 to remember.

Then we sat in a circle and sang little songs and clapped our hands. We sang a song called "Willabie Wallabie" and learned everyone's name. The teacher passed out moist towelettes to all the kids when their name was called. It went like: ..."Willabie - Wallabie - Walex. An Elephant sat on Alex..." in a sing-songy kind of way. Then when each kid was called, they would run over to the teacher and get a hand wipe. The word after Wallabie was changed according to each kid's name (wachel = rachel, walizabeth = elizabeth, wack = jack, etc). Then after each kid got a hand wipe, which I was still trying to figure out, they sang "Willabie - Wallabie - Wax, let's all have some snacks!" Oooooooh. Okay. We're wiping our hands so we can eat snacks.

Good thing I brought some fruit wagon wheels. Alex was becoming very impatient. There is no time for snacking. It is time for playing. There are a room full of kids and trucks and ponies and paint and paste and I need to go play with all of it! So I was really trying to put my most sane mommy face forward, and not scream at him to pipe down and have his damn snack. All the other kids were going along with the program. It was our first day, we needed to just blend in. Come on Alex blend in. Just let you nose run some and drool a little bit more, and you'll blend in better. Point #2 to remember.

Now story time. He can't sit still for snacks, why would he sit still for a story? But damn it, it is pre-school and you will have a story. But he would not sit down and kept whining. So, I say, in my calm, cool mommy voice, "Alex, it is story time, you will sit down and listen like everyone else." Alex whines, "Nooo-ooooooo!" So I say, "Alex, sit down." Firm, but still decent. Then out of nowhere, I hear a banshee shrieking. No, an air-raid siren?... No... What on earth is that ear-piercing, high-pitched, loud screaming noise? Oh, that would be Alex, kicking his feet and screaming as loud as he can. It felt like forever I was sitting there watching him. Have you ever just been so beside yourself that you actuall feel like you are beside yourself? Watching from the outside? I saw myself sitting there staring at him, jaw slightly ajar, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Why did his first tantrum have to be day 1 of kiddie kollege? On a playmat in front of 20 toddlers and their parents? Can you imagine? "Oh look, Marge, the new lady can't control her son." So, as if it were a bugs bunny cartoon, I saw my beside myself self slide slowly back into my actual self, and regain control. I grabbed him by both shoulders, picked him up, sat him in my lap, and told him, "You will do what Mama asks, when I ask it. Now sit down and stop screaming." Yay! It worked. By the time he sat, story time was over. Anyway, overall it went ok, aside from the tantrum.

Day 2 - Thursday. I was not looking forward to school. Just getting off work and going to deal with 20 toddlers and their nosy parents was not at the very top on my list. The first day, I think it was harder for me than Alex. Pre-school parents can be very aggressive. Now, you all know me, I am an outgoing, talkative person. But not in my first 5 minutes of meeting you. I will never approach someone for the first time with a barrage of questions. But some of them were relentless. I was looking for the bright light and interrogation room.

Parent: (With and outstreched hand) "Hi! I'm ___. What's your name?"

Me: Hi, Sabrina...

Parent: (gesturing to Alex) "And what's his name?

Me: Alex.

Parent: "Uh-huh, and how old is Alex?

Me: 22 months... how old is (your child)?

Parent: His/Her name is ___. My, Alex is tall for 22 months! (Me: Quit using his name in every sentence...)

Me: Yes, he is. (Would you like his height and weight measurements?)

Parent: Is this your first time?

Me: (No, actually we've been coming for months, we just wore our invisibility cloaks to avoid paying the fees...) Yes, this is our first day.

Parent: He's so cute!

Me: Yep, he sure is. (Notice I do not compliment their child in return)

Me: Alex, where are you going? Oh, he wants to go play... Nice meeting you!

Ok, now back to the points to remember. Point #1. Picking up toys. I don't know about anyone else, but when I was a kid, if I made a mess, I cleaned it up. I am not a maid, I have a bad back, there is absolutely no reason a child can't at least HELP pick up toys he has played with. I know these are little kids, but seriously, they CAN pick up after themselves. So clean-up time comes, and I say, "OK Alex, lets pick up some toys! Go put the cars away! Good! Now pick up that dump truck and put it on the shelf! Very good job! That horsey needs to be put away. Go put him in the horsey bucket. Nice Job!" He knows that it is his responsibility to clean up after himself. We have guests and they say, "Wow, for having 2 kids, your house is really clean!" That's because our little boy cleans up after himself. These parents at Kiddie Kollege do everything for their kids. Today, I asked Alex to go get his luchbox from his cubby. He ran over, out of 100 or so cubbies, picked his lunchbox, brought it back, and sat at the snack table to eat. This mom said, "Wow, he knows which lunchbox is his! That's amazing!" No, not amazing, your kid would know too if you didn't do everything for him.

Point #2 - If your kid has a cold, stay home. If he has allergies and a runny nose, carry tissues and check him often. If he's teething, wipe his face with a towel and don't let him gnaw community toys. I don't want my kid getting sick because yours is dirty. And what's with all the raggamuffin kids? I don't mean sweats or clothing, I'm talking about haircuts (or lack of), baths (they won't melt you know), things like that. Anyway, it is an experience.

"...It's a Small World, After All, It's a Small, Small, World..."

2004-12-31T10:46:00.000-08:00

I realized I had not yet wrote about our Disneyland trip! We took the kids to Disneyland just before Christmas. Lots of people told us we were crazy to attempt Disneyland with a 22 month old and a 6 month old, but what the heck, we're crazy people like that. So we saddled up the Tahoe, grabbed Grammy, and took off to Disneyheim... er, Anaheim.

What a drive. I-5 is no joke. Speaking of no joke, the CHP doesn't have much of a sense of humor about speeding, do they? I guess 95mph is a LITTLE fast, but as my mom thought (thankfully she didn't say it), Mickey is waiting. So I got pulled over. The officer was actually quite nice, although he seemed disappointed when he realized we were cops. We had to give him the "before we start reaching for anything, I'm carrying a gun, my badge is in my fanny pack" speech. He sighed a loud, drawn out sigh, and said to Mike, "You're a cop?" Then he turned to me, and with one eyebrow raised said, "You made me chase you." I wanted to clap and say, "Oh, that's fun, isn't it? Wanna play again?" But I thought just getting out of a hefty ticket was pushing my luck, so I buttoned my lip and put on my remorseful face. Somewhere around the beginning of the stop, I realized my mom was crocheting with two large needles. I don't think she missed a stitch the whole time he talked. He didn't even seem to notice. So he looked at our ID's, gave me an abbreviated speech about speeding in the fog, and sent us back on our happy way to Mickey.

So, I did the speed limit the rest of the way, and it took FOREVER. Anyway, we finally got there, found our resort, checked in, changed, and got to Disneyland. We hit California Adventure first, since it would close in 6 hours and we heard there wasn't much for kids to do there. Au contrere, mon frere. Alex had a blast. Madi was still getting used to it, but she had fun too. He rode a rocket ship ride, a scary ferris wheel that had sliding cages, some lame bug ride, and a couple other things. Actually, I guess there is not a whole lot for kids, there is actually not a whole lot period. We saw the Electric Light Parade, and it was really cool. Madi jumped to the music the whole time. Alex got sprayed in the face by steam from a dragon float. I thought he was gonna cry, he started to say it was hot because steam is always hot (although it wasn't), but then we started laughing at him, so he laughed too.

After California Adventure closed, we headed to Disneyland for 3 more hours of fun. We stopped to watch the fireworks show and during the holidays they make snow fall on Main St. They use snow machines like the ski resorts have, put them on top of the roof, and make snow after the fireworks are over. It is really beautiful, even though the snow doesn't last. Both kids made it well past the midnight closing hour, and in pretty good spirits. We had no tantrums, fits, crying spells, or anything. We went back to the room, went to sleep, and got up to do it all again the next morning.

We went back to Disneyland, and rode rides all day. Alex got to ride his first roller coaster. He just made the 35" height requirement. He was standing in line, all excited. It was Gadget's Go-Go Coaster in Toontown. I was worried they would be critical of his exactly meeting the height, since they kicked the little boy in front of us off for not being tall enough, but nobody even really looked at him. So we boarded the coaster, and Alex pulled down the restraint bar before I was fully seated, sort of knocking me over and pinning me in a weird position. Thankfully it was not locked, and I got in OK. We took off and Alex said "Wheeeeeeee!" as we went around the track. When the ride stopped, we got out, he ran down the exit ramp to my mom (AKA Mi-Mi), and says in an excited, but slightly amazed voice, "Whoa! Mi-Mi!" So I asked him if he wanted to ride again and he said "Yup!," nodded his head and took off running to get in line again. We went once more, and then we had to leave Toontown so they could close it down for the fireworks show. There was a slight meltdown because he didn't want to go, but he got over it.

Overall, we all had a really good time. We are thinking about going back soon, maybe this summer. Oh, and Mike drove home, and we did not get pulled over again.

Bock-Bocks and a Coke

2004-12-10T13:14:00.000-08:00

What, you might ask, is a bock-bock? It is what Alex calls chicken. It just might say something about our level of fast-food consumption, but every time we go to a drive-thru to get food, Alex yells at the order box from the back seat, "Bock-bock! Coke!" No, we are not in the habit of giving our 2 year old coke on a regular basis, he just hears that Mike orders it and says he wants it. So OK, we do feed him bock-bocks, er, um, chicken nuggets sometimes. And he likes them. A LOT. I remember the day he started calling them bock-bocks, he ate a 6 piece by himself. Pretty soon, it won't be "bock-bock" he'll be saying, it will have to be "Mooooooo!"

Speaking of moo, Madi-cakes weighs in at an astounding 17 pounds. Awwwww, that's mean, she might read this one day... No, she looks so cute, with her roly-poly little legs and chubba-wubba belly. And she has a perfectly round, petite little head with big, puffy cheeks. Everyone says her fair skin, rosy cheeks, and petite features make her look like a porcelain doll. Such a cutie-pai. And she's starting to crawl, so pretty soon, the race will be on!

Ahora, Practica!

2004-12-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

That was the name of one of my college Spanish textbooks. At the end of every chapter, there was a section called 'Ahora, Practica!" (and now, practice!). Anyway, this is just an update on all the new words Alex knows in Spanish. And the funny thing is, he knows them in English too. He also knows how to follow certain directions in Spanish, and can identify body parts.

Casa (house)

Pato (duck)

Ojos (eyes)

Boca (mouth)

Pelo (hair)

Si (yes)

Mano (hand)

It's cute, when he says 'mano' he makes a fist with his left hand, palm down, and with his right hand he points to the back of his left hand and says 'mano!' very definately. And when he says 'ojos' he blinks his eyes really slow and hard so you know what he means. He also knows 'nariz' (nose) but he doesn't say it, he just points to his nose. Another thing is that since he knows the words in English and Spanish, he somehow learned when to use each word. For example, if you hold up his toy duck and say, "Alex, what's this?" he will respond with "Duck." If you hold up the same duck and say, "Alex, que es esto?" he will respond with "Pato."

Mike has been working with him to understand commands too. He knows 'prienda la luz' (turn on the light), 'apaga la luz' (turn off the light), 'abre la puerta' (open the door), and 'cierra la puerta' (close the door). The other day, we were in the living room, and Mike said "Hey, watch what Alex learned!" So he points to the kitchen and tells Alex 'prienda la luz, por favor'. Alex walks into the kitchen and looks up at the light switch. Of course the first thing I said was "He can't reach it. What is he supposed to do?" So Mike says, "Ah, he'll figure it out, just let him alone." Ok, so I wait and next I hear this dragging noise. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, and dragged it over to the light switch. He climbed up on the chair, flipped the light switch, and looked at us with a huge grin on his face. Oh wow. He figured it out. What a smart 'galletita'. Little Cookie, that is.

Grande Caramel Frap with Whip, Milkbone back...

2004-12-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

Milkbone back? That's right, now we have 2 running lists. 1 - Things Alex has eaten, and 2 - Things Nitro has eaten. Alex has a pretty long list going, including a pine cone, a snail, dirt, and lots of other gross stuff. Nitro is starting to accumulate a list himself. Jammies, coffee, a sock. And we've only had him a month. Mike had him in the patrol car, and Nitro jumped into the front seat. Mike had left the lid off of his Frappuccino from Starbucks. I suppose after years and years of just leaving your car how you like it, it will take a while to get used to dog-proofing. Well, Nitro saw the opportunity and took it. He drank the Frappuccino, and then flung what he didn't drink all over the car. He took the cup into the back seat and was using it as a chew toy when Mike discovered him. He peed 9 times and pooed twice after drinking it. Poor dog is getting assaulted with bodily functions. Vomiting pajamas, pooing coffee, poor thing...

Mmmmm... Jammies....

2004-12-03T07:09:00.000-08:00

Nitro, Nitro, Nitro. My friend Becky always writes about her dogs on her blog, and now I know why. Material. Dogs, like kids, are a neverending source of funny stories. Nitro is 18 months old, just 3 months younger than Alex. It is like having another child around the house.

So, here's the story. Since it has been super cold outside recently, Mike decided that he would let Nitro sleep in the garage. It would be a nice reward since he was done with training. So he brings him in, lays him down on the comfy sleeping mat he bought him, makes sure the special "Nitro Night-light" is on, and goes back in the house. About half hour later, before going to bed, Mike goes out to check and make sure Nitro is comfortable...

He hears some movement as he approaches the garage door. What could that be? "I hope that dog is not doing something bad," thinks Mike.

(door opens, light goes on)

NITRO! PFUI! (outside door opens) GET OUT!

(commotion heard outside, several minutes later, door closes and Mike enters, head hanging with a shameful look)

Mike: Um, hi. (holding his hands behind his back...)

Brina: Hi... What did he eat?

Mike pulls from behind his back not a rabbit, not a water-squirting flower, but a pajama shirt of Madi's, shredded and armless.

The shirt looked like it should be in one of those ads for workplace safety, you know, "never-wear-loose-clothing-around-heavy-machinery-or-else-you'll-get-sucked-in" type of thing. The left arm was completely missing, the right arm was nothing more than a 2" flap of fabric, and the collar was completely missing all the way down to the belly area.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Brina. "What the hell is wrong with him?!?" Mike, hanging his head once more, whips out yet another shirt, another victim of the jammie-devouring beast. This one is more intact, sleeves only slightly gnawed, collar completely missing and chewed. "Another one? Couldn't he have at least eaten a set? He didn't have to mix and match," Brina remarked.

We didn't think jammies would digest too well, so Mike called the vet and they recommended inducing vomiting. Yippee. Now it is 0100, it is freezing cold outside, and we are standing out there waiting for the dog to hurl. The instructions from the vet were to give him 2 Tablespoons of Hydrogen Peroxide and just wait. They said it would cause him to vomit in anywhere from immediately to 5 minutes.

Ok, first obstacle: How in the hell are we gonna get 2 tablespoons of peroxide down a dog's gullet? Mike suggests a turkey baster. No, we don't have one... Oh, I know! Alex has a medicine dropper, we'll measure it with that, squirt it into a Dixie cup, suck it up with a bulb syringe, and deploy it into his throat. Yes, that ought to do it. Ok, measure... 2 teaspoons... squirt it into the cup... check bulb syringe for snot... ok, all clear, suck up peroxide with bulb... Alright, we're ready to go. Let's do it.

Mike traps Nitro between his legs. Nitro strats wiggling, slips free, and runs off. Repeat 4 times. Oh what a fun game. It's 0110. Squirt the stuff in already... Ah, finally, peroxide deployed. Now we wait, immediately to five minutes... 0111... 0113... rumble, rumble... ok, I think he's gonna do it... 0115... Why hasn't he puked yet?... 0120... 0125... Maybe we should call the vet back...

Mike calls the vet again, and they say give him 2 more tablespoons. Now, did you catch it before? Not a typo... scroll back up 2 paragraphs to 'Ok, measure... 2 TEASPOONS...' Got it? Yah, my dumb ass measured 2 teaspoons instead of 2 tablespoons. I guess it's better than the other way around, huh? So, I measure out 4 more teaspoons, since that equals the 2 tablespoons we were supposed to have given him. I refill the bulb syringe, and get ready for another round. Mike traps the dog, he wiggles, slips free, runs off. Trap, wiggle, slip, run... Trap, wiggle, slip, run. Repeat 5 more times... Damn it, it is 0130, we have to be at work at 0700, hold onto him. Here, let me do it. Ok, ok, go ahead, but get it right. I wanna go to bed.

SQUIRT... (Nitro trots around, goes into kennel looking seriuosly pissed off) Maybe we should just leave him alone. He looks like he's ready to bite us. He's in his kennel, that's his space, we'll just... H-R-R-R-E-E-A-A-A-A-H ! Ok, he had to do it in his kennel, didn't he. All in all, 2 piles of yack, jammies included. When we "analyzed" it, it looks like all the jammies came out. Almost one whole shirt worth if you add it up.

We figured out why he did it. We had just put the jammies in the laundry bins, and they were ones that Madi had freshly thrown up on. Nice. So it goes Baby barf's on jammies, Dog eats jammies, Dog barfs. Oh, the irony.

He not talk right...

2004-11-20T03:24:00.000-08:00

Alex had his first dentist appointment on Monday. This story has a happy ending, he was very good and the dentist said he has nice little chompers. He has 16 teeth, only waiting for 4 more, the 2 yr molars. I'm not so sure I want to go back to that dentist though. Here's why...

We walked in the office and they had a huge play yard set up in the lobby. A complete Little Tykes set with 2 slides, a couple cars, rocking horses, etc. He was playing and very content. They called him back into the room, and I figured they'd see him right away, because who tries to make a little kid wait anywhere, let alone a scary dental chair. So he sits down, and 5 minutes go by, then 10, then 15. Finally, a nurse ushers the dentist in quickly and efficiently.

Oh, let me back up... I searched the Delta Dental database for pediatric specialist dentists. I got 2 names. The doctor we saw and another one in Berkeley I think. So we chose this Dr. He is Asian, his office is in a building in a predominantly Asian part of town, with other Asian businesses. All the signs are in Chinese, some with small English subtitles, but most without. Neither he nor his staff were particularly proficient in the English language. I felt somewhat out of place, but I was sure he saw all sorts of patients, not just Asian people.

Ok, continuing. Alex was sitting in the chair and staring at the Dr. He was wearing large, thick, plastic-rimmed gray glasses, and spoke with a heavy accent. We'll call him Dr. W. Dr. W immediately tried to get on Alex's good side and started talking to him.

Dr. W: Heh-wo, how ah we do-iiiing to-daaaaayyyy???
(This is not meant to be racial or anything, but the accent is key to the story.)

Me: We're fine, thank you.

Dr. W: (to Alex) Aaaah, an' wha' is yoah naaaaame?

Alex: Name?

Dr. W: Yeeeeeeeesssss, wha' you name?

Alex: Name. (Points to self)

Me: His name is Alex. Say Hello, Alex.

Alex: Heh-wo. (smiles sweetly)

Dr. W: I offuh (offer) him gwasses (glasses) fo' a liiiiiiy (light). (The over head dental light)
Wha' ah one you wan'? (Hold up 2 pairs of sunglases, one blue with pink cats, the other black)

Alex: Cat? Cat! Cat! (Sounds like "cat" but without the harsh "T" sound)

Dr. W: Wha' he say? He say Cat? (to Alex) Di' ah you say Cat? (to me) It nah soun' li' cat. You make him say again.

Me: Alex, did you say cat?

Alex: Cat! (louder now, as if to say "you know I said cat, why are you asking?")

Dr. W: Nah, he nah talk ri' (right), he nah say cat ri'. And when he say hehwo he nah say ri'. He say 'heh-wo'.

Me: So do you! But he isn't even two yet. I think he talks just fine.

So the appointment went on from there, he didn't seem mad about my comment, but seriously, who makes fun of the way a two year old talks? Not even two, 20 months. He's just over 1 1/2! Why would someone do that? The more I think about it, the more angry I get. Besides, they made him wait in the chair when he could have been playing. I don't think we'll go back. So, if anyone knows of a good pediatric dentist, let me know.

I did NOT raise a nosepicker!

2004-11-18T23:02:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed those children in the stores that are happily riding around in the cart/stroller, index finger buried sky high, so far you'd think they might be scratching their brain? My first reaction has always been "Oh GROSS! My child will NEVER do that..." That was in my pre-child days of course, when I thought my kids would be perfect and they would never do gross things in public or private that would make me cringe and other folks go "Eeeew!"

Well, isn't it nice to know that my son is a normal boy, with a fascination for nose picking, bodily functions, noises, and other generally icky things. We were in Old Navy (I know, huge shocker there...) and he was in the front of the stroller. I noticed this other family walking by, and a boy about 6 or so pointed at Alex and wrinkled up his nose, as if to say "Eeew, that's nasty." So, being the curious/protective mom I am, I stopped the stroller and took a walk up to the front to see firsthand just what was so vile about my little boy. Part of me was really expecting something gross, and part of me was ready to tear that little boy a new one for making faces at my son.

So I get to the front of the stroller, which is kind of a long walk since it is a double, and see Alex mining for gold. Well, he must have scratched or something because as I yanked his finger out of his nose, I noticed it was red and bloody looking. He picked it so hard it was bleeding!!! AAAH! And he thought it was funny! It was disgusting. I said "Oh, Alex! Don't pick your nose! I did not raise a nosepicker!" Then I realized that I was talking to a 2 year old, and he didn't understand that. I think it is time for the booger witch. (Ma, you know what I mean.) I am recording Wizard of Oz this weekend, he will watch it with me, and he will learn about booger witches. (That's the witch who comes in the night and paints your finger green if you pick your nose. Don't ask me how I know this)

So here's some more Alex-isms:
He is learning some Spanish words. One of those words is "casa." Since he is so little, his pronunciation is a little off sometimes. He was sitting in a shopping cart in Ikea with my dad, waiting for my mom and I to come back. Apparently he wanted to leave, so he kept saying "casa." My dad did not know this new word, and since it comes out sounding like "ca-ca" he thought Alex had to go potty. So did all the hundreds of other people in Ikea.

Alex learned to fake sleep. He snores and everything. Then he peeks out one eye to see if we are looking.

I bought him a new bed that is elevated, with room underneath that I turned into a jungle cave. It also has a slide. So he climbs the ladder and slides down, arms in the air, screaming "Whee!" I think that's a little of his great-grandma passed along there. She used to say "Whee" to everything that was fun.

Alex got his sister to laugh for the first time. He was standing in front of her performing silly tricks.

That's all for now, all hell is breaking loose here, so I will leave you to your reading pleasure for now.

That's One Hairy Ass Wench...

2004-11-04T07:47:00.000-08:00

Halloween. We went from planning a Halloween/Birthday Party, to everyone already had plans, to I'm getting sick, we need to cancel, to about 6 hours before the planned event, it was back on again. Not everyone came since we had to re-invite with only a couple hours notice, but for those of us there, it was interesting. We had some guests in costume, some not. I was originally in my Devil costume, but quickly reverted to PJ's. I figured Hey, it's Halloween, I can wear PJ's if I want. Besides I felt ultra-crappy. Anyway, "C" who is a big, muscle-ey guy, came dressed as a pirate wench, complete with fishnets and dress. He wasn't very lady-like, he kept forgetting to close his legs when he sat. I think the mustache may have been a dead-giveaway too :) Then his girlfriend was dressed as a SWAT cop, and her daughter as a gothic princess. Alex was in his gorilla costume, Madi in her bunny outfit, and me, in PJ's. My mom came as a confused holiday reveler, sporting some sort of decoration or clothing item from just about every holiday this side of Kwaanza. Then there was Mike. Dressed in his Tigger suit. A 6-foot plush Tigger just may be normal to you, but how about a 6-foot plush Tigger, operated by an intoxicated Mike? Aaaaaaah, now you get it. Yah, one "it's Clyde's birthday" shot of Jim Beam and he was down for the count. Well, at least he didn't have the nasty thing "L" made me. She called it a brain hemmorage, which is exactly what it looked like, by the way. Grenadine, peach schnapps, topped with Bailey's (AKA the brain). Oh my GOD it was the nastiest thing in the world. You are supposed to shoot it down, I guess, but once "the brain" went pouring on into my mouth, it seemed like it got bigger and Bigger and BIGGER until I could only sit there, eyes-a-waterin', and not swallow it. I felt like I was on Fear Factor or something. Everyone was watching, encouraging me to down it, except my mom, who was amused by the fact I was just holding it in my mouth, and decided to tell everyone, "Well, now we know she doesn't swallow!" HA-HA-HA-HA. VERRY FUNNY. Now I want to laugh, puke, and cry, all at once. But anyway, a good time was had by all. Big ups to "C" for winning the costume contest as the hairy-ass-wench.

And it goes a little somethin' like this...

2004-10-29T08:56:00.000-07:00

Dinner. Time to wind down, right? Not unless you're our new dog. Nitro is a police K9 (Yay, congrats to Mike for getting him!), and gets his commands in German. So not only does he not know us yet, but we do all sorts of things that are weird to him. I don't know if he's ever seen a child, or a bike, or anything like that. Turns out, he likes Alex a lot. But he is having to adjust to a new human as his master, and learn to listen to that master. So until that happens, Mike has to repeat himself a lot. Here's how Nitro's dinner goes:

Mike makes the food, Alex starts yelling "Puppy! Puppy!" because he wants to help feed him. Mike and Alex go outside with the food. I stand at the door with Madi, watching the new dog, hoping when he sees Alex and his ears go up, it is not because he wants him for a snack.

Nitro: Hier kommt der Speisenbursche und der kleine Junge in Pyjamas
(here comes the food guy and the little boy in pajamas)

Mike: Nitro, aus! (get back)... Aus!

(Mike and Alex enter the kennel, food in hand...)

Mike: Nitro, sitz! (sit)...

Nitro: Stellen Sie die Schüssel hin
(put down the bowl)

Mike: Sitz! ...

Nitro: Stellen Sie die Schüssel hin
(put down the bowl)

Mike: Nitro! Sitz!

Nitro: Ich will nicht sitzen, stellt nur die Schüssel hinunter
(I don’t want to sit, just put the bowl down.)

Mike: NITRO! SITZ!

Nitro: In Ordnung, werde ich sitzen. Stellen Sie jetzt die Schüssel hin
(alright, I’ll sit. now put down the bowl.)
(Nitro sits down)

Alex: Seets! (Nods head with authority)

Mike: Platz. Nitro! Platz!

Nitro: Sitzen Sie oder aufzeichnen Sie? nur gibt mir die Speise.
(sit or lay down? just give me the food.)
(Nitro lays down)

Alex: Pots! (Nods head again, proud of his attempt at "platz")

Mike: Das good boy!! Das good boy!

Nitro: Sie nehmen zu lang, aufsteht ich bin.
(You're taking too long, I'm getting up.)

Mike: Nitro! Sitz!

Nitro: In Ordnung, werde ich wieder sitzen
(Alright, I'll sit again)

Alex: Hahahahahahaha!

Mike: Nitro, pfui! Aaaah! Pfui!

Nitro: Erbärmlich, mag ich Pyjamajungen lecken
(Sorry, I like licking pajama boy)

Mike: Sitz!

(Nitro sits, Mike puts down the food)

Nitro: Schließlich Speise!
(Finally, food!)

And that's how that goes. I'm sure after he's lived with us longer it will get easier... but for now, it sure is funny to watch (I'd say it's cute, but you can't describe a K9 as "cute"...)

Return of the BLOG

2004-10-23T14:20:00.000-07:00

So, a couple weeks ago, my friend Becky sends me an e-mail. It was short, simple, to the point - "Update your BLOG!" Ok, ok. So I e-mailed her back and I said "You are the only one who cares to read my stories/adventures/etc. The BLOG has died. I'll just send you e-mails."

So, a couple weeks go by, and I had the occasion to see my cousin from Texas (under sad circumstances, but at least we saw each other). We are chatting and he tells me, "Hey, I like your website! The one with the funny stories. That's cool."
My response: OH MY GOD!!! YOU READ MY BLOG?!?!
Him: Yah, I liked the one about the frogs.
Me: Wow! You really do read it!
Him: Yah, but then you stopped writing. What happened?

So, the BLOG has come back to life. I'm really glad because it is a lot of fun to write. I just thought, what's the use if I am writing for 1 person? But apparently I write for the masses... Ok, 2 people, but it's a start ;)

Welcome back, BLOG, welcome back. You've been missed.

Return of the "Parrott Problem"

2004-09-30T07:35:00.000-07:00

So, we got over the "crap" phase. The only bad thing now is that he has resorted to the "sh" word I was trying SO hard to avoid him saying. So, here is this little boy, running around the kitchen yelling "sh*t!" "sh*t!" "sh*t!" with a cute little lispy "sh" that sounds like he has WAY too much saliva in his mouth. Say it, don't spray it huh? So I tried ignoring it and believe it or not, it actually worked. Cool. So we'll see how long before he picks up something new and naughtier... Last night when I got home and found a jury summons in the mail I gave him some new words to ponder.

On a lighter note, he has learned to say his swim instructor's name - Melissa. He says Lih-ssa (again, the "s" like he has too much saliva). She wasn't there last week, so he will have 2 weeks to perfect saying her name. I bet when we get there he clams up and doesn't say it, even though he has been calling everything "Lih-ssa" for the last week and a half. Oh well, he'll probably say it as soon as we get in the car to leave, as he shouts "Baaaa-aahh!" (bye) in his cute little southern way.

Frogs give you warts

2004-09-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we continued working on the yard. I managed to sack-up and get over my fear of all bugs. I put on gloves and didn't look back. Funny how it works, the times I bug hunt, I end up getting bitten or have a spider drop on my head or something, but the times I just go about my business, I don't even see a bug. So I've been plowing and ripping and demolishing all day. I got to the front yard and started trimming a plant when I realized it was taking over my side yard. So I chopped it all the way out with a little help from my stronger half.

While I was fertilizing, I noticed several frogs hopping around in the dirt. Since there's a creek in our yard, we have lots of frogs. I wondered what lil' man would do with a frog, so I caught one. I told him to come over, I had a surprise for him. (I was planning on opening my hand and letting the little green frog jump out at him.) Mike, for some reason, says "Don't let him touch it!" What is he gonna get warts or something? So Alex comes over and stands there, waiting for his "surprise." I open my hand, and the damn thing just sat there.

Jump you stupid frog. Jump out and land on his head or something. Come on, dammit, JUMP! (Evil, aren't I?) So I flick the frog's butt and he finally hopped, but away from Alex, onto the driveway. Then it just sat there. So Alex looked at it and says "Fwog?" Yes hunny, it's a frog. Then I said "What do frogs do?" He squatted down into froggie position, put his hands on the ground, and started hopping like a frog. It was just about the cutest thing I'd ever seen. Then the frog jumped into the lawnand the fun was over. But good to know he isn't scared of frogs (and that I can catch one... I'm such a boy's mom).

Our little lady, Madi-cakes

2004-09-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

On Monday, Madi went to have her ears pierced. Her daddy really wanted them done, he said it would "identify her as a girl." I thought she should wait until she was older, like 5 or so. That way she could decide whether she wanted them, and take care of them herself, and have something exciting to show her friends. But, I decided that it was not a battle I cared to fight, and we'd let her get her ears pierced now, as daddy wanted. So I had to take her by myself, with Alex in tow. She cried like I have never heard a baby cry in my life. It was a painful cry, and she turned all red like a tomato. But, it only lasted for a few seconds, then she was fine again. Later that night, she didn't seem bothered by them. She had a bath, and I cleaned and rotated them, and she didn't even flinch. So, okay, they look cute. I change my mind, I'm glad we did it.

Did he just say....

2004-09-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, here's another one for the mispronunciation book... Alex has a Shrek 2 book he got when his sister was born (Thanks Tom and Lynda!). He is just starting to act nice with books and actually read them instead of tear them. He went to his bookshelf, and pulled down the Shrek book. He took it over to his little reading chair and started to look at it. He turned pages, and then closed it and studied the cover. He brought it over to me and said, "Mama, dat?" He pointed to Shrek and wanted to know what it was. So I said, "That's Shrek, hunny." He said "dat?" again and watched my mouth. I said slowly, "Sh-rek." He paused for a second, pointed to it, and said, "C*ck!" Oh holy crap. We're really gonna have to work this out before we find ourselves in Toys R Us with him yelling "c*ck!"