Ready or not

2010-11-20T17:38:00.000-08:00

Goldie and I just returned from a week in Mexico where we went to attend a wedding of some of my adopted Mexican family and learn to barf in new and interesting places.

I spent a good chunk of my early twenties sowing an increasingly empty stash of wild oats in Oaxaca, Mexico. Whenever someone asks me where the hell Oaxaca is, or more com.monly, how one could survive in a place with so few consonants, my canned response is that it is 6 hours south of Mexico City and the ability to live in a place (and at time on entire streets) made it easier to hide from old boyfriends. I encourage anyone to try to find me on the corner of xicotical and San Salvador Tzompantapec. Suckers.

Since I returned stateside, Mexico has clearly had a dramatic improvement in the snack arena. No longer are one's only options restricted to fried pork skin or fried grasshoppers (although I have never seen an actual Mexican eating the grasshoppers, only trying to make frightened Americans believe that they do). They now have introduced the most delicious, and entertaining snack of all time. I give you: Hot Nuts!

No matter how bad you feel, just saying that you would like to eat los Hot Nuts! can make any day better. En serio? Hot Nuts! Made you smile. You're welcome.

Traveling with Goldie was amazing. She clearly got the traveling gene from me. The kid barfed in plants, had diarrhea in some really drab bathrooms and vomited into plastic bags whilst riding in a taxi with nary a complaint. Best Goldism of the trip:

"don't worry about that smell, it's just my poop" Sheer comedy gold that kid.

Also: when the Mexicans tell you that you are going to Dance the Turkey, do not assume that they are making some Spanish mistake for the Chicken Dance. You are going to dance with an actual turkey. And the next day? They are going to kill that turkey and drain the blood out of it right next to where you are eating your huevos a la Mexicana.

God I love that country.

An open letter

2010-04-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

During these rare times when the girls are napping and I don't have any pressing work to finish I sit back and really think about the kind of mother I want to be and make big plans on how I can spend more times with the girls and teach them things and birds will sing and the heavens will smile and perhaps, just perhaps, the screaming will stop. Then? They wake up and the screaming starts. I mean, your sister looked at you and then some kind of air brushed your skin and then I dared to suggest you wipe the snot off your nose and before I can say "I really wish there still were orphanages," The house explodes into screaming and crying and threats and discipline and OMG R U SERIOUS this is not how this was described in the Parenting magazines.

Then, just when I think I can't take anymore, they give me a hug and tell me they love me. And in the next second someone becomes "very angry with you MAMA!" I must admit that things haven't been easy for anyone around here lately. Grandma still battles cancer. The Davey hasn't been able to work since January because of his various disabilities. I love having him home with us, but the girls aren't quite sure what to make of it. With him home more, I am working more. Mostly from home, but they can't quite get why mama has to be working when I should be listening to them yell at each other because this Dad guy surely must be going back to work soon and he is really here a lot and also, Mama, where are you? Why do you have so many meetings? Why can't I go too, mama?

This is hard, really really hard. And wonderful. Really, really really wonderful. So, I'll sit here awhile and soak up a quiet moment and make more plans on how I can become the mother they need.

Disneyland Advice You Didn't Ask For

2010-02-13T15:33:00.000-08:00

Despite the rough spots, this vacation continues to rock. I had been doubting if this was a good idea with the girls still being so young, but it is working out perfect. The key to our success was taking advantage of the Disneyland sale and getting the 6 day pass. That seems like Disney Overkill, I know, and if we were just two adults, it absolutely would be. With the littles, however, having the extra days takes off the pressure of dragging them screaming and crying around the parks trying to cram in everything. Don't get me wrong, we are still dragging them screaming and crying, but I feel less desperate to push them too far. We have done 3 days so far and the groove is that we get there early, leave at 1 or so and get physically away from the sensory overload to eat lunch and then bribe and threaten and coerce them to get a nap in the car while we drive around (we are still in Carlsbad for another night) and then go back into Disneyland about 5 or so and stay until closing time. This has allowed me to avoid the panic we heard in one woman's voice whose husband thought all the lines were too long and she was shrieking "Well, we have to get in line for SOMETHING!!"

This is has been my food plan for the trip:

It amazes me to see so many people eating all their food in the park. We are lucky to have had this week in the condo by the sea where I can cook. We eat breakfast here, lunch somewhere in Anaheim and then I pack the cooler with sandwich stuff and yogurts, fruit etc. for the ride home. Of course my purse is packed with crackers and lara bars, water bottles and some treats to ward off the grumpys when we are in long lines. The best part of this? Vacation weight gain: Averted! About a hundred dollars a day we could have spent on crappy disney food? Spent on booze at Costco! Tomorrow we head up to stay a few nights in a hotel in Anaheim and it is presenting a bit of a challenge food wise because we won't have a kitchen. I hard boiled eggs for the cooler, got oatmeal packets, yogurts, milk, bread and sandwich fixings, bagged salad, fruit and snacks. It should be perfect. I just don't like eating out so much, and I guess the girls don't either because instead of eating their dinner at a restaurant yesterday they ate the kale and carrot garnish. Nice.

Have a Disney Day

2010-02-09T16:14:00.001-08:00

The WageStein California Extravaganza 2010 has been, to the casual observer, a mixed bag. A giant bag of flaming catastrof&%*. For us, however, we feel triumphant that we have made it throuh a 3 day drive, a kid coming down with pneumonia, LA traffic, and a Disney Monsoon of Rain that was very much lots of downouring buckets of misery that was, did I mention? VERY WET, on our first disneyland day. The aforementioned Monsoon Tragedy has cost us $1000 in ruined rental equipment and an entire day. On the upside, we were pleased to discover we stumbled our sorry butts into Dennys on Free Grand Slam day to drown our sorrows in pancakes. Free pancakes.

Despite everything we are having fun and keeping good attitudes. The girls are awesome and making it a trip to 'memember.

Sent on the go from my Peek

The last frontier

2010-01-21T19:24:00.000-08:00

Today I violated the last sacred vow I made before I had children, when I knew everything about parenting: In preparation for a very much long and also extended time closed in a Very Lame Minivan with my children, I purchased them both Leapsters. You know, the kind that turn their brains to goo and me into a very sad, defeated statistic.

There has been nothing but squeals of delight for an hour. You will note that there is a direct correlation between the amount of screaming in our house and number of blog posts I can churn out. It's been awhile.

Dear Smug People Who Have Not Experienced Week Long Tantrums:

Judge if you must. My kids play video games. Mostly just to give you the pleasure of feeling self righteous. And also to give them something to do when they have insomnia after all that Mountain Dew.

You're Welcome.

So this is what Real Americans do on Black Friday

2009-11-27T13:11:00.001-08:00

As our Thanksgiving feast of Obscene Quantity and Also Very Much Lots of Heaping Stuffing was wrapping up last night I overheard my cousins and sister planning out the early morning Black Friday plan of attack. I rubbed my belly and was emphatic in my decision to not leave my bed and join The Crazy this morning. Did I mention that I am a liar?

My sister started texting me from the Target line about 6 a.m. Ruby crawled into bed with us at 6:10 a.m. She has very bad breath. I had to get out of there. I was in the car by 6:12 a.m. and headed to my local Fred Meyer store where, surprisingly, I was one of 6 shoppers. I gulped down the free coffee at the door to chase three mini donuts, and bravely rolled the cart toward the toy aisle with powdered sugar on my chin. Like any Real American, I suppose, I loaded that Goddamn cart till it begged for mercy. I went down my mental list of every person I know and threw shit in the cart. I was in such a frenzy I almost started shouting "YOU get a bike and YOU get a bike! EVERYBODY GETS A MOTHERFUCKING BIKE!" But, alas, I could not speak because my mouth was full of more dry donuts.

I suppose I didn't spend as much as many people, considering it was under $350 for everyone on my list (Note to people on my list: Don't get to excited.). I topped off my trip with some better coffee, picked some up for Davey and made myself a hero.

I deserve a nap.

The one where I have not snapped out of it yet part 347

2009-11-24T15:25:00.001-08:00

Greetings! While I am certainly pleased that you are continuing to read Ye Old Blog of Doom and Despair, I am still a bit confused as to why. Very well then, without further ado, I bring you the latest tale of woe:

Last week I went somewhere I never in this life thought I would end up and although the possibility of such a visit was always tucked away in my Worst Things That Could Possibly Happen Ever file, it was still a shock. Last week my sister and I had to accompany our mother to an Oncology appointment. Where we were told she has cancer. Specifically, Lymphoma. Mom has been sick for awhile now. It started last spring when she became so tired that her stamina was entirely gone. Then the stomach pain started. She couldn't keep food down and had terrible pain. This was promptly followed by random fevers. She kept insisting that she was just upset because of her semi-retirement and selling her house. "If I can just......." fill in the blank "I'll be fine." She started losing weight. Quickly. When her move was complete and she continued to have these symptoms I finally made the appointment for her myself. That was three weeks ago. Her doctor sprung into action and it has been a whirlwind of tests, scans and The Waiting. There are only a few more things for her to endure (Two Words: Bone Marrow) and we will know how bad this thing is. We were told to expect chemo soon.

We are hopeful. She is hopeful. My mom has cancer and she is going to make it.

Chaotic

2009-11-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

Somehow I thought that as the girls got older and we got some more experience with this whole Responsible Parenting gig that things would run smoother. I was, to my chagrin, wrong. The past few months (year?) has been fraught with the best and worst life has to offer.

I had a fantastical weekend of debauchery with two of my besties and that was good. Then there was The Flu (possibly The Oinks, but am trying not to go there). We recovered! And relapsed. I landed my dream job! For some reason I discovered that in exchange for shiny dollars, I actually have to, you know, work. So there is some schedule re-configuring to be done, but I am not really complaining.

Now that Goldie is four as in "Mom, now that I'm FOUR! I really think that I should, you know do grown up stuff, like have a baby." OMFG, deep breath. Ahem. Anyway, Goldie is showing signs of actual lucidity when she is delightful and fabulous and helpful and I just look at her wondering if the past few years had as many not-delightful moments as I seem to remember. Then I watch Ruby pee herself on purpose and that totally jogs my memory.

Church continues to dominate most of my free time. And when I say free time, I mean, the time that I really do not have but create out of fumes and sheer force of my will because it is that important.

In other news, extended family dificulties abound that I can't really talk about right now. Suffice it to say that life has handed me a foot long shit sandwich on rye and even though I am trying to stay positive, I am not quite ready to make Shit SandwichAde yet.

Will add that to the list.

An open letter to 31 and 5

2009-10-08T14:16:00.000-07:00

Dear 31,

This morning I opened my eyes to find you watching me. The experience was decidedly different than last year when 30 snuck up behind me, covered my eyes and scared the bejesus out of me because, really? Who really knows what 30 might have up her sleeve. As much trepidation that came before the time 30 actually showed up, she made a lot of positive changes around here.

The past year has forced me to face the best and worst experiences life has thrown me. While those details don't matter, the results do. 31 finds me a humbler, kinder, more content person. I consume less and create more. I use less energy from the grid in favor of elbow grease. I am learning to release the fear and embrace opportunity. Sometimes it is easier than others.

29 was sort of a blur of anxiety and insecurity, but 30 brought with her many of the pieces to the puzzle I had been missing. 30 brought a sense of completeness. I discovered a confidence that had been missing and with it optimism and hope. I remember being told as a young woman that just because one is legally an adult at 18 or 21, it takes another decade or so to truly be a grown up. I get that now.

Today I am 31 years old. There is nothing I would rather be.

Welcome.

Dear 5,

I'll keep this short because if I think about it too much I will get upset and then I won't be hungry for cake and ruin my party. However, I want to aknowledge the unfairness that I feel whenever I let my mind wander back to 5 years ago today. I'm not sure why you had to die on my birthday, Dad. I'm not sure why your healthy body suddenly gave out without any warning at only 58 years old. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you never met my children or my husband and can't accept the reality that I can't dial you up and fill you in on the latest.

I don't have the burden of wondering how we could learn to understand each other and not be so chronically disappointed in one another. 5 years, one marriage and two children have taught me a lot. I learned that as much as you infuriated and confused me, the deeper I look inside myself, the more of you I find. You weren't a bad guy, Dad. You were just a man trying to do the best he knew how and I know you gave us all you had to give. 5 years ago I watched the doctors take you off life support and will never forget looking at your tanned, muscular arms thinking about how the day before you were working in the fall sun.

5 years ago I lost my dad. And it sucks.

Bah.

2009-09-27T20:40:00.001-07:00

I wrote a whole post that I really liked. Then I managed to delete it through the Great Cut And Paste Debacle of 2009. So. Frustrating.

So. How about some pictures? The girls have been enjoying walks together in the neighborhood. As much time as they spend bickering and screaming, these are the times that I remember why, pray tell, we did this:

This one is a few months old, but I love it. The child who AM NO TIRED! was, in fact, quite tired. So tired, was this child, that she managed to sleep through an entire meal at Chevy's. Why did we go to Chevy's? Because I had a coupon. The end.

Pinch Me

2009-08-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

Big! Things! have been happening here at Chez Davey these days. Unfortunately, none of the aforementioned Big! Things! will be of interest to you and include boring details that I am totally going to tell you anyway:

It took three years and copious amounts of liquor, a trip to Atlanta, the alienation of my family and friends and becoming an absentee parent, but my job as Chair of the Search Committee for a pastor of my church has finally come to an end! I am pleased to say that it was all worth it because after a decade long battle to become a truly inclusive congregation, we found the most amazing person to lead us, who happens to be gay. And there was nary a vote in opposition. I'm still a little teary-eyed.
I can't give out the deets, but lets just say that the dream job I have been, you know, dreaming of? The one I can do what I love? at home? on staff? No set schedule? Perhaps becoming reality.

If only the zit goatee would disappear and cake could somehow become resistible (CAKE!), life would be perfect. Even so, I'm not complaining.

Belle

2009-08-04T15:59:00.001-07:00

A quick update for y'all, and I am saying ya'll because I am in Atlanta and I am always looking for reasonable excuses to say ya'll without seeming ridiculous. Perhaps I have been unsuccessful in that endeavor. Ahem. Anyway. Yeah. I'm in Georgia and despite my earlier delusions, there is nary a peach to be found and I seriously bought an apple from Washington yesterday and my head started spinning as I calculated the food miles it took to send a Washington apple to Georgia plus flying me here to get it. I don't think the people here know about food miles. I am such an Oregonian. Also, no one has invited me to that courtillian I had so been looking forward to.

Other than that, I am having a fantastical time with inspiring friends and drinking wine whenever possible.

It's hot. I smell. I am having an amazing time.

The not as much of an elephant in the room

2009-07-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

I am a chronic oversharer. Obviously. This blog is a place I can talk about most anything on my mind, but certain topics have been off-limits because, well, you're not the boss of me. So there. I have avoided talking about my weight because seriously? It makes me uncomfortable. However, a lot of people ask me how I have lost the weight, and I am no stranger to discomfort.

First, the stats (which face it, is really all you want to know anyway): I have lost 85lbs in about a year and a half. My goal was to lose 50lbs, so I guess that makes me an overachiever.

I had two kids in less than two years. I got fat. I wanted to punch every doctor, author and other persons who breathed air, directly in the face when they told me that breastfeeding would help me to lose weight. Do you want to know why? IT DIDN'T HELP ME LOSE WEIGHT! In fact, I gained weight while breastfeeding. From the moment I gave birth until the moment I stopped breastfeeding, I was starving. Ravenous. And lets face it, brownies taste good. The experience was horrifying. Looking terrible was the least of my worries. I couldn't do the stuff I wanted to do. I couldn't keep my children out of harms way. Everything was hard. It was no way to live.

I don't have any shocking weight loss secrets, and I certainly don't have all the answers. There wasn't any one thing that has helped, rather, it has been a million tiny things that have added up to great results. Don't get too excited, you can find any of these tips in every women's magazine ever written.

How I did it:

The mental component: I stopped hating myself. I stopped feeling guilty about overeating. I realized that just because I ate too much on vacation last week doesn't mean that I should overeat every day for the next two weeks. Somewhere I read something that likened this logic to "just because I didn't brush my teeth before bed last night, should I give up and not brush them in the morning?" Yeah, it makes no sense to me either.
The task of losing weight was so overwhelming and I didn't know where to start. I approached it like I would any other skill wanted to learn and I researched it. Not so much by reading books, but by watching people who were not fat. What did they do? I found that thin people didn't approach food with emotion or guilt. "I ate too much yesterday. I won't eat so much today." Duh.
I stopped drinking soda several times a day. I drink one or two a week.
I eat food that I cook myself. I eat whole foods. Virtually no fast food. We stopped eating out all the time. I don't buy many packaged foods. For example: instead of canned chili, I make my own.
I try to eliminate high fructose corn syrup, msg, hydrogenated oils, enriched flours and most processed food. They make me hungry. Instead of cheerios, I eat oatmeal. I know what's in it.
I try to watch what I eat 85% of the time and then I can eat what I want the rest of the time.
I don't drink unless I am going out with friends or at a party.
Do you know what it feels like to be full? to be hungry? I had no idea. I learned some about Intuitive Eating. The idea is to eat when you are hungry, stop when you are full. Eat what you want or you will end up overeating. Deprivation leads to binging. This is hard, really hard. But very effective.
I eat on small plates, measure food and share with others. Instead of ordering one meal for myself and one for the girls and eat mine plus their leftovers, I order one for the three of us and am surprised that we often still have leftovers.
I eat slow. I put down the fork, chew and swallow every bite before loading up the fork again. It used to be that I would shovel it in as fast as I could so that I wouldn't get full before I ate all I wanted to. I was also a crazy person.
I don't finish my plate if I'm full. I throw it away.
I was satisfied to lose even 1/4 of a lb per week, I didn't want to obsess and try to get it off quick. I learned patience.
Notice how I haven't mentioned exercise? Because I can't seem to stick with regimented exercise. Instead of giving up completely, I just do a tiny bit more than I would normally. I park far away from the store. I make extra trips up and down the stairs. I run around with my kids.

See what I mean? boring boring boring. But it has worked. And I am glad. I know how easy it is to gain back and am just trying to take it one day at a time. Wish me luck.

I should totally get paid for this plug, but I'm not

2009-07-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

People who have been forced to sit through my long-ish rants about the evils of various corporate empires (Tip: Do not ask my opinion of High Fructose Corn Syrup if you have any pressing plans)and Comcast has been at the top of my list. I ditched the cable in favor of dish, but felt like Comcast had me by the balls for fast internet without a phone line.

Enter Clear Wimax. They are only here in Portland, Atlanta and Las Vegas. I was very skeptical and couldn't find much about them, but gave it a go because I was tempted by city wide wireless internet and home internet for less than I have been paying my Craptastic! provider.

I'm hooked. It's fast. It works. It's cheap. I can get online with my netbook all over town and wherever their network is. Will come in handy when I go to Atlanta in a couple weeks I suppose. Their sales staff is not the brightest, but neither is Comcast's.

You should try them too.

Vacation-ish

2009-07-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

Contrary to popular opinion, I have not fallen off the edge of this giant flat earth. Rather, the job of trying to keep us all alive and reasonably clean and healthy is taking up more energy than I have to give. I am going to give credit to this sudden increase in difficulty to the The Whining because, Mother Fuck, The Whining is threatening to kill us all. Slowly. There is also the fact that Ruby has Escaped From Crib Mountain one year ahead of schedule and also? The Whining.

This weekend I took the girls to a resort with my mom for a relaxing vacation. However, we underestimated the power of The Whining and so are making the best of the situation while trying not to Murder The Children WHO WILL NOT STOP WHINING. You see, they live miserable lives. All of the swimming, ice cream, playgrounds, arts and crafts, walks and chips are apparently SHEER TORTURE to children who have been cruelly denied their favorite activity of CONSTANT SCREAMING.

Mom and I are currently performing furious Craigslist searches looking for hot pokers to stick in our eyes. It really would be more humane.

Random bullets

2009-06-12T22:09:00.001-07:00

I am a monster. No really. When I ran out of discipline ideas last weekend after Goldie looked me in the eye and told me that "no, Mama, I am not going to" for the third time that day, I had a stroke of genius. I grabbed the polish remover and with the help of one excellent co-parent, removed shiny pink paint from 10 tiny fingers. Then I went to my room and cried. But you know what? She was much more agreeable the rest of the week. Thank God she didn't touch the wire hangers.
If you ever feel like you need a dose of despair, then I urge you to consider going shopping at Winco on a Friday night. Hoo-boy, thems some sad folks. I got lucky (lucky? really?) and scored a kid free shopping trip that coincided with the exact moment that the saddest people in my city decided to buy groceries. Times is hard, people, times is hard. I did manage to score some excellent steel cut oats and chiles de agua for my big cooking tomorrow so, theres that.
Ruby has either Hand Foot and Mouth or Toddler Asshole Disease. Symptoms include: not eating, not sleeping, fever and Acting Like a Total Asshole. I would feel a lot sorrier for her if she weren't being such a, you know, asshole.
I am discovering that line drying all of our clothes is much easier when it is not pouring down rain.

The llama (not the mama)

2009-06-08T21:01:00.001-07:00

I always know that it is time to update when I get requests from my Facebook peeps (I am looking at you Katy). The past few weeks have been a lot of fun because I have dared leave the house. With my children. To do Activities That Actual Children Might Enjoy, instead of the chronically unpopular Mama, You Aren't Seriously Taking Us To Buy Pull-Ups Again, Are You? We went to the Jr. Rose Festival Parade. It was hot. We ate Mcnuggets of dubious nutritional content and Ruby drank 32 oz of iced tea followed by two days of Not Sleeping. Overall? It was an awesome day. Friends, music, clowns, people on stilts ("Mama, why is she SO TALL?") and it was one of the few times I can recall an event turning out to be as fun in reality as my expectations.

Then there was The Llama. Ruby was so excited at the prospect of seeing an actual llama that she had to go for it. And then I rescued her because that is, you know, kind of my job.

Things I Learned This Weekend

2009-06-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was the official Girl Weekend 2009 . To ensure that I never waste a learning opportunity, I have compiled a list of lessons that were gleaned from the experience:

I will always position myself in the center of the photo. Just try to get around me. I dare you.

Carrie looks good no matter what she is wearing. The slow progression she made from Fancy Dress to Fancy Dress with Slippers to The Full College Dorm, was made seamlessly. She should look to new career in fashion. (Note to Carrie: My ex-boyfriend from 1997 would like his sweatshirt back, assuming the elastic has not become crunchy) (Note to self: Do not loan Carrie clothes.)

When properly motivated, I am able to create every underage aspiring alcoholic's dream: Sweet Sweet Booze That Does Not Taste Like Booze. Who knew that gallons of wine, orange juice, lemonade, vodka and a touch of blue curacao(for festive color!) could create such deliciousness (And nausea!) when combined in a cauldron. Bonus points for the bra hanging out of my shirt that was quickly spotted and named The Doubtfire. Am v. sexy.

I am more subject to deviant behavior in a group than I had previously believed. As a person who is extremely prone to nicotine addiction and has not smoked in years due to the desire to avoid repeating a particularly humiliating experience that involved bumming Bronco Lights off of homeless people. In a snowstorm. Hiding from my mother (and for those who must know, yes, a latex glove was involved and yes, I still smoke with the wrong fingers) Girl weekend is a different story. Cloves you say? Hmmm. Cloves are not cigarettes. Cloves are delicious! They remind me of college! (fine, high school. Fuck off.) I won't inhale! And you know what? I survived. Was great idea! Maybe I should try it again soon! Perhaps 20 or so times per day!

I am gassier than I thought.
We can certainly break it down to rap classics cerca 1992 like only priviledged white girls can.
We should really do this bi-annually
Sleeping until 11:00 a.m. after years of sleep deprivation is just as delicious as I had dreamed.

Girl Weekend by the numbers:

# of girls=8
Stories of high school involving mortal embarassement shared with group=867
Persons whose preferred mode of death involves hanging and bone fracture= one
Crossaints I normally consume in one year= zero
Crossaints I consumed within 5 minutes of waking after a night with these girls=two
# of bottles of wine consumed by 8 women in 48 hours=9
Amount of fun spending time with these amazing women=infinity

Summary:

I love these girls. I loved this weekend. I love the fact that The Davey makes it so easy for me to go and have fun. I should never be allowed near a vat of dip unsupervised. Ditto for wheat thins.

Good times, my friends. Good times.

A nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon

2009-05-28T22:05:00.001-07:00

Roob and The Blur. My girls have no idea how lucky they are to have friends in college who not only are willing to hang out with them, but have extremely cool shades.

I am not sure why this is coming up so freakishly small, but finally there is photographic proof that I am actually raising this child.

Ahhh Goldie. This picture is truly a metaphor for our life together. Don't run too fast, Baby Girl, Mama can't keep up with you. But I don't want to miss a thing.

Ear infections, dreams and real estate

2009-05-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

I have counted 27 violations of the unpopular No Picky-Licky Ordinance since I began tracking five days ago.
The Asshole Ear Infection That is Ruining Our Lives continues to, you know, ruin our lives. We are sampling all that Big Pharm has to offer and are currently on #4. Extended Screaming Tantrums That Rattle Actual Bones have replaced the regularly scheduled Shorter Screaming Tantrums That Only Sort of Piss Me Off. In other news, Ruby would like me to mention that her ears? Kind of hurt.
I keep having dreams about the longtime friend who inexplicably (to me) dumped me right after I got married and I don't know what it means. If it didn't hurt so much to think about her, if I weren't so proud and stubborn, if I thought my heart could stand the rejection, if I didn't miss her so damned much, I would call to see if she is okay. So many years have passed and I still can't delete her number out of my phone. Not sure what that means either. Sigh.
While I stubbornly stand by my stance on never ever moving, I sort of wish our neighborhood had more safe places to ride bikes and less used condoms on the street. Also? Did you just see that hooker standing in front of my house? Halp.
Davey and I found precisely 13.4 seconds with which to snuggle this morning before someone small and urine soaked managed to wedge between us.
The people who live across the street have listed their house for 20% more than any house in the area. The house is roughly 20% less appealing than their peers. This has solved the mystery as to why the owners wear sweats so frequently as jeans would not readily accommodate balls of that size.
I should be nicer about the large-sacked neighbors because as part of their marketing strategy, their Realtor forced them to part with the Toddler Fantasyland of Little Tykes equipment that littered their front yard. In this neighborhood, the etiquette for disposal of anything you don't want is to place the item on the street in front of your house (See: No Sidewalks in This GodForsaken Place) and hope that it disappears (usually in under a minute). My friend next door and I waited patiently the morning of The Toy Purge and furiously texted each other when a desired object was set out so we could swap child care and help carry larger items across the street.I am the proud new owner of a slightly used Turtle Sand Box. With a lid!
If you see a bike appropriate for a four year old girl left out in someones yard, please do me a favor and move it just a little closer to the street and give me a call (or text!)

Another Love Letter to my Husband

2009-05-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

Davey my Davey,

This one has been a long time coming and I don't know where to start. I am hoping if I just put fingers to keyboard, words will come out and form sentences and magically at the end of it all you will know all of the things sitting on the tip of my tongue that go unsaid. Right now in so many ways it feels like our world has fallen apart around us. But here we are. Everything is so Goddamn hard. But we don't argue. What surprises me about our life is not that there are struggles, rather I continue to marvel at the miracle I live every day to have found you to struggle alongside me. My perfect match. Your willingness to let me be who I am and do what I must without blame or guilt or anger, continues to amaze me. Home is a safe place. Home is where you are.

This season of life feels so bittersweet. The realization of our dream to be the parents our girls need us to be and do the work that needs to be done to satisfy our ambition and conscience comes at a price. When I look back on the past 4.5 years and recount all that we have done, blessings we have received, crisis' we have been through, all we have built and torn down again, there is no wonder why we both feel like we have been hit by a truck at the end of every day. At night when the girls are finally asleep and we look at each other wearily absorbing the first quiet moment together of the day. I loathe this moment because I know that one way or another, someone is going to be disappointed. One of us has to work. The other one is tired. The phone rings. Your show is on. The kids start crying. I don't feel good. We are spent. There is nothing left to give. I am smiling as I type this because you and I both know that others who read this will think I am making some veiled reference to sex. Ha! I'm sure that would be great, but at this point, finding a moment to really listen to the other without distractions and talk about our day would probably be more satisfying.

I still haven't found the words that I was hoping for, and so I will try one more time. Thank you. Thank you for loving me unconditionally when I am decidedly unlovable and selfish and have left you to contend with the chaos I inevitably leave in my wake. Thank you for your steadfast belief that we are going to be together and in love and okay without exception. You matter. You matter to me even when I am inconsiderate. I am desperate for you even when I am being distant. You are the reason for everything......

And I adore you.

First time on the big girl swing

2009-05-10T17:53:00.001-07:00

And a few hours before we sprayed her with Mullet Be Gone. You will be pleased to know that a sweet-ish child can now be found in her crib in place of a tiny Billy Ray Cyrus impersonator.

We are relieved as well.

A Day For Digging

2009-05-10T17:50:00.001-07:00

It Worked

2009-05-09T14:52:00.001-07:00

As part of our family's Mother's Day Weekend celebration my sister and her husband went to Mom's to perform copious amounts of yard work and because they are fully aware of my lack of willingness to perform domestic chores I have been relegated to babysit for our combined broods that now number 5 children.

Sitting here smugly with my face buried in a giant trough of Goldfish crackers as my sister buys snacks that actual children will eat in contrast to the soy nuts and carrots I make my kids choke down, I feel pretty good. I arrived at 8:00 a.m. and immediately proceeded with Operation Wear Their Tiny Butts Out. We walked. We played. We dug in the sand and rode bikes. I showed them no mercy and got them, FIVE OF THEM, to nap at 1:00.

They are stirring now so I better shove in these crackers or I'm going to have to share.

Church Weekend Survival Guide

2009-05-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I don't get out much anymore. But wait! There's hope! This past weekend I discovered a secret that my mother never shared with me and now I will pass it on to you: The out of town all weekend church meeting! Like camp without the bugs or wood cookies! This is decidedly brilliant because not only will your husband not want to come, but will be forced to stay home with the kids because, really? What type of person would deny you a weekend of service to your church. In return for your cleverness, if you choose your travel partners wisely and also belong to a denomination who likes to serve Jesus with a side of debauchery, you will surely have a good time.

Church Weekend Survival Guide

1. Spring for the hotel. (this is perhaps the only rule I followed) Under no circumstance should you accept the invitation to do the Stay in Random Old People's Houses. Think denture cups and weird smells. No wifi. High probability of encountering yappy dog with painted nails. Do feel free to pilfer homemade brownies wrapped in napkins that you can shove in your purse for later that the old ladys will bring to meetings. Old ladys don't skimp on butter.

2. Do not feel compelled to drink the whole effing bottle of wine followed by more wine. Resist consuming entire block of cheese chased with full pound of salami. This will be regretable.

3. If you do drink the whole effing bottle of wine, have the decency to shut your wine hole and pass out like a reasonable church lady instead of further humiliating yourself by over sharing SUPREMELY INAPPROPRIATE information with your co-travelers. Oh God. (Note to self: avoid future eye contact and seek new church.) Oh God.

4. Do not include the word Fuck repeatedly in your conversations with other church members or in exclamation at The Fucking Coffeepot that you are still too Fucking drunk to operate at 7 in the Fucking a.m. after drinking The Whole Fucking Bottle of Effing Wine, or respectable people may become suspicious that you include this word on a regular basis in your home. Fuck me.

5. Bring distractions for the actual planned events. Pass notes. Take walks. Disturb your neighbors. Bring laptop for some Free Cell. Pay attention to exactly one activity because someone will surely ask you to drag your sorry ass in front of your congregation to tell what you learned. Hopefully the hangover will have passed by this time. I was not this lucky.

6. This may be the most important advice of all: Shut up. Seriously. We all know you don't get out much. Please do not make this point exagerated by way speaking so profusely that you have actual froth coming out of your mouth. See Also: Do not overshare SUPREMELY INAPPROPRIATE information with people you would like to make eye contact with in the future.

Fuckity fuck.

Hmmm

2009-05-03T21:09:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to wonder if my children are going to turn out weird because of their mother's refusal to listen to any type of music that is either:

a. reasonably cool
b. remotely recent
c. not found under the labels of: folk, 70's, Regrettable Mid 90's, or Eccentric Soccer Mom's Who Listen to Weird Shit.

The Davey is no better and I remember how furious he was when I made fun of him for exposing her to Klezmer music before she was two. Yeah. We are weird.

So far Goldie's favorite songs are my favorite songs from my childhood that I listened to on last generation 45's on my Mickey Mouse record player. Those songs include children's classics like Juice Newton's Queen of Hearts, The Gambler, and anything and everything James Taylor or Bob Seger.

Maybe it is time to branch out as it is sort of starting to freak me out to watch the girls work on their Night Moves on the way to preschool.

The day I ran out of dopamine

2009-04-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

When I got The Tonsils Formerly Known as Those Hangy Things Making Me Sick removed, I figured that planning a two week recovery was actually excessive. Sure, it hurt, but I am a woman on a schedule.

And that is how I managed to improperly wean myself off of pain medication, restart my life at full speed (What? It was right there on the calendar: Back to normal on Monday) and landed up hiding under a blanket crying because I could not physically care for myself or my children after alienating all of the people who love me.

A few days and some proper nutrition, exercise and Omega 3's along with some lowering of my expectations of myself seem to have worked their magic. I'm back! Now with 100% less tonsils!

All in a days work.

2009-04-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

When the sun shines in Oregon in April, it is a special kind of gift. For those that live in warm climates, I offer you, with no ill will, The Finger. We Oregonians wait for nearly as long as it takes to grow a fully formed HUMAN for the opportunity to walk outside and not get soaked.

So. It's sunny! And I decided to save the earth by purchasing a clothes line. Am wonderful mother and role model to dozens! I have learned many lessons about the use of clothes lines. The first being not to hang giant jeans on a line that is not well secured or your carefully tended clothes will have to be rewashed thus canceling out any energy savings you might have incurred.

On another note, I had my post-op appointment today and the doc regaled me with tales of how disgusting my tonsils were and that the reason I am still in pain is that there was "considerable scar tissue" from years of a deep bacterial infection and the dissection to remove said Sponges of Bacteria was "quite complete." I am also ready to report a fabulous side effect of losing the tonsils: The bad breath and taste in my mouth from the past 3 years? IS GONE! I am no longer flossing in vain! Pucker up Davey, Mama's back. But, unfortunately, Mama is now too tired.

Try again next week.

Ants and Brats.

2009-04-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

I know that spring has sprung because of the somewhat expected and subsequently dreaded arrival of The Mother Effing Sugar Ant Brigade. They are providing an endless source of excitement for my children who are still young enough to think that this is "exciting" rather than "revolting," which is alright but by my calculations, their lack of disgust raises the probability of someone shouting "Hey Random Stranger! My Mom's desk is so covered with ants it looks like its moving!" exponentially.

I ran into the store to get some ant removal products (we love Terro for this) and thought I would try out Better Parenting Through Guilt Technique #1: Buy Your Ungrateful Kids Shit They Don't Need. I saw some tiny Dora sunglasses and was all Why Not? The girls squealed appropriately and then I cut them out of the packages and handed them over. After 3 seconds Goldie made her first mistake when she said with all the fake sweetness at 3.5 year old can muster "What ELSE did you buy me, Mama?" I resisted replying "a ticket to live one more day" and tried to explain how she had hurt my feelings and greatly reduced the chances of buying her toys on impulse ever again. That tactic having been exhausted, the negotiations began regarding where she may take the new sunglasses. Not pleased with the inclusion of sunglasses to the chronically unpopular Nothing But a Spare Change of Undies and an Otherwise Empty Backpack at Preschool rule, the rest of the ride home really sucked.

We are now back to the regularly scheduled: my kids are much nicer to be around when left to play with empty boxes, toilet paper tubes and wrapping paper plan. Lesson learned

The one where I am on drugs

2009-04-14T18:10:00.000-07:00

I got my tonsils out over a week ago. It is not as bad as everyone told me it would be as long as I remember to take my high powered-almost-morphine drugs every couple of hours. Davey has taken two weeks off of work to be with me and take care of the girls, because he is awesome and secretly wants to be an at-home-Dad.

Even eight days into this there really isn't that much improvement, and that is somewhat discouraging. The worst thing is that my girls know that I'm here, but don't understand why I am always asleep or why they can't Karate Chop my neck or why I can't speak most of the time. Basically, I am communicating with them in a language where we can find common ground: The language of Candy.

Candy is the perfect way to tell your child both that you love them, and also to go away before mama changes her mind. It is working perfectly and Easter really a great way to restock.

Note to self: Make dental appointments next week to ensure that their teeth did not, contrary to what I have threatened, actually "rot out of your fool head for not brushing your teeth."

I'm not dead and an Open Letter

2009-04-03T20:29:00.001-07:00

Dear Kirsten,

Hi! Sorry it's taken so long for us to sit down and get this off to you, but we wanted to let you remind you of that one time, you know, always? When you were so sure that you had everything handled? The smug way you walked around making "wise decisions" based on "professional advice" and how you were feeling so "secure" well, it sort of pissed us off.

In response to this over-developed sense of well-being it has been decided that it is time for you to experience what life is like on the other side. Good luck and we look forward to kicking you in the teeth while you are down.

Sincerely,

The Economy, Karma and Murphy's Law

The past month...months....year...er....lets just say for the last effing-while, for simplicity sake, have, for lack of a better word: Blown.

Without boring you with the details that are many and confusing and also VERY BORING, I will sum up my life in bullet points:

Colds. Lots of them. The end.
3 year old child behaves like 3 year old.
Rain.
Youngest child turns two. Child's mother faces existential crisis whose central theme is: They're pretty cute and all, but the whining? In stereo? Constantly? Is this my life now? Huh.

Coming soon:

Adult Tonsillectomy, Could it Really be Worse Than Giving Birth, and if Not, Why Does my Doctor Keep Saying That?

Stay tuned.

The Potty, Child Deux

2009-02-26T20:52:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow marks the end of an era. And perhaps the beginning of a disaster. Ruby is going to get schooled, yo. And when I say schooled, I mean, she is going to sit her sweet cheeks on the potty until she goes. So help me God.

We are using the method that people either love or hate, Toilet Training In Less Than a Day. Or, in my experience, Toilet Training In Less Than Six Months and Also Making Your Child Hate You. But, it works for us. She has been throwing subtle hints around that she is ready, saying things like POTTY PWEEEEEZ and pulling her pants down.

I put her in her last diaper, bought a new potty seat, juice, candy and a 5th of vodka to keep me busy. Am also hoping that I can regain my ability to swallow my own saliva by morning and that The Asshole Tonsils of Doom will behave for the day tomorrow. Have never looked forward to surgery more in my life.

Wish us luck.

My Bad

2009-02-05T21:06:00.000-08:00

Actual email I sent this afternoon:

On Thu, Feb 5, 2009 at 4:26 PM, Kirsten Wagestein wrote:

Hey!

Roob is not good and we are off to urgent care here shortly, she is coughing so hard she is choking and hasn't eaten in 3 days. Poor little pooper.

Goldie is still sick (I think) because she is being a TOTAL ASSHOLE and, yes, I just called my kid an asshole. Usually when she is this bad something is wrong. She just started saying that she can't hear and so I am wondering if her ears hurt, but all I know is that a 3ft tall person was throwing a tantrum on my goddamn floor at 1 am and I was contemplating murder. This is so hard. Also David is gone tonight. Fuck me.

Love,

Kird

Verdict after returning from Dr:

OMG, so remember when I called my kid an asshole? Ha ha, funny thing because it turns out that the asshole? IS ME. So at urgent care it was their regular doc and so while she was with Roob I asked her to look at Goldie real quick and the verdict? Two kids with 4 ear infections, Goldie's eardrum is bulging. Yeah. So I took them out for a guilt meal at taco bell in their jammies and filled them up with beans and antibiotics. Am wonderful mother. I think I will go stick my head in the oven after I call CPS on myself.

An open letter

2009-01-29T15:11:00.000-08:00

Dear 3:00 p.m.,

I want to send a huge thank you out for your being so dependably craptastic. As you know, I have very little time to myself and I usually am working on Very Important Things while the girls are napping. Until 3:00 p.m. when I finally have a chance to relax for a moment and be Very Extremely in ALL CAPS QUIET so they won't wake up. Then, 3:00 p.m. , something happens and the entire world conspires to wake them up. It starts with Lots of Cars Who Have No Business Driving on This Street going past, many of whom have no muffler. Then the kids in the neighborhood begin walking past the house discussing VERY LOUD THINGS on their way home from school. The mail is delivered and Fred Puppstein the Wonderdog loses his mind. The ice machine that I never hear during 23 other hours of the day makes ice, I believe just to spite me. The heat comes on. Phones are ringing. I have to pee in the bathroom adjoining their room. The UPS guy. Really? I haven't received a package since early 1998 and you are here NOW? With that, all hope is gone and the girls are awake and grumpy and guess what? I don't get a chance to relax until 3:00pm tomorrow when it all starts over.

I have tried to beat you, 3:00pm, but you prove to be a worthy opponent. I have resorted to desperate measures far beyond turning off the phone, turning off the heat, putting signs on the front door and one unfortunate incident where I relieved myself in the backyard. To no avail.

3:00pm, I hope that you are a mom someday and will be payed back for this. Until then, you can suck it.

Yours,

Kirsten

Dropping the Ball

2008-12-24T14:07:00.001-08:00

Internet, you are not the only one who is being neglected by me. Get in line.

By the end of October I had the Wage-Stein family calendar packed through the new year. Basically is was to be filled with rushing around from event to church to party to gathering to rehearsal to actual paying job to volunteer work and then say, around December 21st, it would be time for us to cram in as much holiday relaxation and new traditions and quality time and Christmas cards and wine through January. Then there was Snow. A lot of Snow. And ice. And no transportation. And no leaving the house. And no Christmas cards. And no seeing Santa. And EFFING JCPenny's who did not include all of the, you know, PIECES TO THE BARBIE HOUSE AND THERE IS NO WHERE ELSE TO FIND THIS PARTICULAR EFFING HOUSE AND NOW CHRISTMAS IS EFFING RUINED. And then there was my sentimental husband weeping actual big-man tears of despair at 1am because JC EFFING Penny's has RUINED CHRISTMAS.

I feel like the most giant failure. We finally made it out to Target last night where we discovered that when we were busy not getting out of the house this week, Target was busily not receiving shipments of stuff to, you know, BUY. So thank God we already have one gift for the girls because I found exactly two wooden puzzles, a busted up Candyland game and a bag of off-brand candy to add to the mix. Also, a doll that Ruby was given last year but was too young for and was stashed in my closet so, sorry Roob, I am really happy you have very little long term memory and Merry Christmas because you know that fucker is getting wrapped up. Again. Is that as tacky as it sounds to re-gift something back to the original recipient? Times is hard.

I do have so much to be grateful for. A warm puppy on my feet. Friends to keep me company. Two girls napping. Sweet Potato bread cooling on racks in the kitchen. A husband I can't live without and a family waiting for us to be able to get out so we can be together.

It's really not a total loss after all. Merry Christmas.

Snow

2008-12-14T14:45:00.000-08:00

I am coming up for air on this rare snowy day to tell you that my children have been secured a place in long term therapy because of the lack of photographic proof that this important holiday season ever happened.

Things we have neglected to bring a camera to this year (so far):

Goldie's first holiday school performance
Thanksgiving
1st train ride at the zoo
5 birthday parties (and counting)
New puppy

Out of fear that they will demand to be emancipated at age 5, I declined Davey's bright idea of cutting out a picture of tree and hanging it on the walls. You're welcome, girls.

Thanksgiving Highlights

2008-11-30T21:15:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was a huge success. And when I say huge I am talking about the new and improved size of my ass after gorging on extrodinary eats at my in-laws restaurant and several 5lb portions of a sweet potato/banana/pecan/brown sugar with a pound of butter on top casserole that (unfortunately for Davey) will replace marital relations in our house.

The girls did fine, Goldie made playdough with Grandma while Ruby and I passed out at the hotel. Then we went and ate food with Alfredo sauce. That was after the walnut pancakes but before the chicken fried steak. What I am trying to say is that there was a lot of Goddamn food involved.

On our way to one of the meals I was thrilled when my Ipod got old school and we listened to some Sugar Hill Gang. I was rappin' to the beat and also feelin' alright when Goldie announced that "This music! Is JUST AWFUL." Really? That is really something coming from someone who can't remember the lyrics to nursery rhymes and so chants "three blind mice. See how they run. Three blind mice. Three blind mice." ad nauseum. Very interesting. Had I not been in the room I swear I was handed the wrong baby because no child of mine could cast aspersions on Rappers Delight. What's next, Goldie? Are you going to turn on the banana flavored laffy taffy too? You're breaking my heart here.

The way home went fine until it simultaneously got dark and the girls could no longer see their toys and David began obsessively scanning the stereo trying to find the Civil War game. When he was unsuccessful, he made us listen to static. Loudly. For 4 hours. With the children crying, we ended up driving down the freeway with the lights on in the car, singing every song we could think of and then when we ran out of songs we sang them again in a round. It was hard to hear ourselves over the static, but, whatever.

Dude

2008-11-24T20:44:00.000-08:00

I'm a liar. Yup. Life intervened and kept me from honoring the post-a-day pledge. I'm trying to let it go, but truth be told, I feel sort of crappy about it. I am stopping by early this holiday week to report the highlights of the past week. Make that weeks.

I took my girls on vacation by Mahself for a night until my two favorite college girls, Blair and Paigey came to keep us entertained. At first I thought that vacationing with two toddlers would suck, but the lack of suck was a pleasant surprise. They still were, you know, toddlers, but not shitty ones. They had fun, watched movies, played with toys and swam in the resort pool. The bonus was coming home to Davey and the new cabinets he installed while we were gone. I would do this again.
I went down to Eugene to party like a rock star for my girl Devin's 30th birthday. She chartered a limo for her and her five favorite people (minus her 7 month old munchable baby, nom nom) for wine tasting. Five girls that don't get out that much+limo+4 wine tastings+5 bottles of champagne+5 hours of dancing+2 shots+6 cocktails=1 girl barfing in the driveway+1 girl peeing in the driveway+midnight call to my husband slurrily describing a dancing incident involving a strange man attempting to grind his wiener into my crack+almost getting arrested at Ross for public intoxication while being forced by a certain newly minted 30 year old who, incidentally had knocked over a rack of clothing and was unable to get off the floor at EFFING ROSS and doyouhearthemcallingsecurity? to buy a shirt that is at least two sizes two small because that girl? Not to be denied the sight of me in a tiny shirt. At least not on her birthday.

Not too bad for three girls who met 12 years ago and used to drink coors light instead of food until we got kidney infections.

Not my proudest moment, but this was just prior to the EFFING ROSS incident. Do you see the laser lights in the ceiling? That is what I call Big Pimpin. Also? Hello double chin. How you doin'?

Also? We got a puppy. His name is Fred and he is cute. The next person who tells me that it is a bad idea gets cut.

To My Daughters

2008-11-05T21:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Goldie and Ruby,

Last night was your first Presidential Election. You were oblivious to what was going on except for the fact that the radio in the kitchen was blaring as the T.V. in the family room was set to some boring show that was most definitely NOT SESAME STREET and your parents were each hunched over their respective computer screens frantically clicking that mouse that we never let you touch. Then your Godparents Tia Laurel and Terrell came over and everyone (especially your mother) was tense. We drank a lot of wine and told you repeatedly to BE QUIET ALREADY SO I CAN LISTEN TO A MAN NAMED WOLF.

After a certain amount of parental wine consumption and encouragement, both of you girls were chanting (to the best of your ability) GOBAMA! GOBAMA! and making offerings of Barbies and puzzle pieces to this Obamanite in the TV that was holding your family hostage and apparently also Elmo.

You didn't know what was going on. You don't know how your future was changed for the better last night. You don't know how relieved Mama is. You don't know what this means.

I hope you don't find out for a long, long time my darlings. May you live your life free of worries and full of Barbie dolls and puzzles as long as you may.

Everything is going to be okay.

Love,

Mama

P.S. Daddy said that I made this happen by sheer force of The Mighty Worry.

This blows

2008-11-04T21:53:00.000-08:00

I tried to pull myself out of this crappy cold we have and into the world where productive people live. I was unsuccessful. This was evidenced by:

1. Driving across town to drop off my work at the office without remembering to bring, you know, THE WORK.

2. Feeling overly pleased with myself for getting dinner ready for our election night guests, on time no less. Then, I opened the door when they arrived and realized I was still wearing my hanes sleep pants and fuzzy slippers. Seriously. Fuzzy slippers. The only thing missing was my pink foam curlers.

Thank God our guests had a cold too so it was like a snotty Kleenex and blankie fest. Except with more booze. And Tylenol cold.

Live from Cold and Flu Season.......

2008-11-03T21:10:00.000-08:00

I have managed to fend off all the illnesses that plagued us last year for the past 7 months with a variety of home remedies mostly involving some combination of garlic, apple cider vinegar, honey, peroxide and sheer force of my will. Also, it is important to note at this time that: 1. No, I do not care that I smell and 2. Yes, these home remedies really work. Alas, something has crawled into my chest and died. My voice is almost gone, but I still found a way to yell out Motherfuck! when I accidentally heard Sean Hannity's voice on the radio today.

Funny how that works.

2008-11-02T21:26:00.000-08:00

I was this close to curling up in my sleep number bed when I remembered that Dude, it's only day 2 of this gig, this is not NaNoblo-DAY. Get yer ass to the computer and your priorities straight.

As I have made it abundantly clear in recent months, I am worn out. Going from a lifetime of 9 hours of sleep at night to 5 or 6 has put me on the edge of insanity. To help counter this, I have instituted Nap Day. This basically means that after church on Sundays, I eat something carby and delicious and then tell my family: Smell you later, suckers, and go off to sleep for a long time. A very long time. The kids take their nap and then watch football with Dad and work on their clothes folding skills and building their Seriously, Be Quiet or Mama will May you Pay Muscles. Today I awoke at 6 pm ready to take on the world and approximately 50% less like to kill someone. Anyway, Nap Day has made life worth living.

In Battered Baby News, in an unprecedented show of Extreme Bad luck, Ruby managed to split her other lip this afternoon in a particularly wild and spectacularly unsupervised game of indoor tag. Tomorrow is her one day a week at daycare and I am sure she will get extra Halloween leftovers because she looks so sad. That is, assuming the swelling goes down and she can open her mouth again.

Also? I still cannot spell Tommorow. I mean, tomorrow.

Here we go again

2008-11-01T22:10:00.000-07:00

I have shrugged off my post-Halloween Snickers and Laffy Taffy hangover in order to to kick off National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo. I have no idea how I am going to pull this off, and so I am just going to lace up my clogs, dig around in the back of the closet to find my blogging mojo and continue my tradition of Excellent Mothering Skills and try to come up with something to tell you about here for the next 30 days.

I will start by telling you that Trick or Treating was a definite success. Watching Goldie with her friend trying to remember to say both "Trick or Treat," "Thank you," and resisting the urge to actually GO INSIDE each house we went to was awesome. Even better, was seeing how, at 18 months old, Ruby trucked along behind The Big Girls and figured it out like a pro. My little baby bundled up in a bumblebee costume was on a Bataan Death March of Candy dragging her bag behind her because, Lady? DO NOT TOUCH MY CANDY. Are you looking at my candy? Are you thinking about my candy? That's what I thought. Now, open this here sleeve of Whoppers and lets get on our way, early evenings a' wastin. Not even falling on her face in Rage Against The Bullshit Handholding moment and splitting her lip stopped her. She walked up to each door and greeted The One With Candy with a shit eating bloody grin and said "Tweeeeeet!!" and grabbed a handful of candy. When prompted by The Manners Police who gave birth to her, she chirped "Welcome!" and hightailed it to the next porch light. She thinks that Your Welcome means: Please, Thank You and You Can Just Give Up Now and Give me What I Want Because You? Cannot Resist The Roob. She is so right.

By the end of the night she let me carry her and napped on my shoulder between houses. When we got back to our friends house and the older girls started trading, my wiley baby figured out that racket real quick. She would steal a piece of someones candy and then when they wanted it back, she offered her own version of Trick or Treat that I like to call Trade or Tantrum. It worked out pretty good for her.

The big one may be able to talk and floss, but watch out for the small one: She'll take your candy.

Wine Night

2008-10-30T09:47:00.001-07:00

Last night I made all the necessary arrangements that included: calling The Davey no less than 15 times to say"are you on your way yet?" "How about now?" "How is traffic?" "Are you traveling by donkey? Because, seriously, you should be home right now." The arrangements also involved laying out PJs, arranging my transportation and 1 very large meatloaf.

It turned out that all of this preparation was energy well spent because, wine night? AWESOME. Sitting with friends, telling stories and eating no less than My Actual Weight in creamy dip=So Worth It.

I love you girls. Lets do it again soon. And when I say that, I mean, lets do it at your house sometime soon. Because, my house? Usually it is too dirty for company, and when I say Usually,I mean to say Always.

xxox

Greasy Goose

2008-10-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

I finally had time to take the quarterly shower and after I got everyone settled in so I could dry my hair FOR ONE EFFING MINUTE SO HELP ME SWEET BABY JESUS, I somehow globbed the hair product all in front on the right side of my head.

The end result, after drying, really isn't much different than it looked/felt prior to the quarterly shower.

2 Things

2008-10-08T11:49:00.000-07:00

1. I just realized that the wholesome Tivo'ed Sesame Street episode that I had plugged Ruby into while I am working has ended and found her glued to a particularly disturbing Maury episode featuring one woman, one baby and six possible fathers, none of whom is proven to be the actual father.

2. Did you know that if you sincerely tell your husband that you don't want to do anything for your 30th birthday because you are depressed about the economy and amount of work you have to do that:

a. He will take you literally and actually not plan anything for your birthday

and

b. Your depression will shift seismically from "woe is the world, lets all dig a bomb shelter and buy canned goods" to " Where's my cake, motherfucker?"

30 down, 70 to go

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

Holy "Let's Build A Bunch of Nuclear Plants" Batman! Must.Not.Listen to. Debate. Anymore.

Ahem. What's going on with me? Thanks so much for asking. Very thoughtful, indeed. Things are rocking around Chez Davey with kids and their doctor appts. and jobs and internships and children who whine all the time because they need "attention" and haven't "been fed" and on and on. What about me? I need things too. Like more than 5 hours sleep. And booze. Lots and lots of booze.

Ruby and the Rash of Mystery continues as we have suddenly realized that most children do not get hives more than once per day nor do they often have have big, hard bellies. What I thought was her just being Full has been diagnosed as possibly being Distended. Also? You know how we always thought she just had a chronic case of The Fussy? Well, turns out that since she started getting a few words down, the most used one is when she is broken out in hives and screaming "OWWW OWW OWW." Oh. Fuck. Am wonderful mother. She had a lot of tests done the other day to check for everything from food allergies to The Scurvy. Am in a quandary because I don't know whether to hope for a diagnosis and have a possibly sick baby or hope that they don't find anything and feel like a monster who sends healthy babies to doctors to suck out all their blood.

Also? I turn 30 today and suddenly I have realized that I am entering a decade of my life that promises to be so busy that I may not blink for another decade. As long as I have my babies, my Davey and my friends around me, this promises to be the best 10 years yet.

Warp Speed

2008-09-28T20:06:00.000-07:00

I wish that someone had filled me in on how, when my child starts school, my lazy little life would explode into a rythem that includes nasty little surprises such as Waking Up At The Crack of Dawn and Being Busy Until Midnight. If I haven't returned your call in the past month it is because I am either driving someone somewhere, going to a meeting, trying to sit down to work on my, you know.....JOB and make actual dollars that omg NEED, cooking something, juggling daycare, taking someone to the ER or figuring out my coffee pot as there is NO TIME to stop at Starbucks. Really? Have I really gotten too busy for drive-thru coffee? This is taking a major toll on my nap schedule.

Ruby became shockingly ill on Friday. Ridiculously high fever, rash and became lethargic within an hour. I realized while driving as fast as my minivan that I swore I would never drive would go, that I have what it takes to keep small people alive. With the help of many many friends. And coffee. And bi-weekly therapy.

It was always a mystery how moms seemed to have boundless energy and know how to do everything for everyone and I have begun to unlock the secret: They fake it. I am faking it, but I am doing it. Also, I do not shower very often.

The Political Rant Where I Overshare

2008-09-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

I really, really need to stop reading polls and electoral maps. The thought of these crazy people running my beloved country for one more day makes my stomach turn. I am tired of the fear mongering over taxes. To me, this is very simple: I am very happy to pay taxes. I want better schools. I want the mentally ill to be safely receiving treatment. I want safe roads and airports. I want everyone to be able to go see a doctor. I want homeless people to have shelter.

My previous (and most likely, future) career centered around working with the least of those in my community. I have an understanding that this system, and the people living in it, are broken. I know the many faces of poverty and what it can do to a child. I know their names. I came to understand that there is a segment of our population that will never be able to take care of themselves due to disability, age or other circumstances. We are all called to take care of them, and to give others the tools to take care of themselves.

Are there actually people out there who are voting with the GOP because there is a vagina on the ticket? Show me a better reason (Note: Do not show me vagina).

Really?

I am a woman, a mother and a Christian. I am voting for Obama.

3x10

2008-09-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

It is an exciting year for me and the majority of my friends. We are turning 30. I was so happy yesterday to spend the afternoon with two of my oldest friends celebrating the first of our birthdays that will happen this fall. I watched her blow out the candles on her cake, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of her blowing out 5 candles so many years ago with her big smile and tow head. I think I got her a Barbie that year.

Anyway, there are still several weeks until my big day so don't worry, you have time to shop.

Rethinking the plan

2008-09-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

Somewhere between the first day of preschool and last Monday our entire parenting plan fell apart. It sort of crept up on us. Maybe for a long time. But suddenly there we were, living the nightmare that I had sworn since the day I saw two pink lines that I would never live. A three year old was running our house. So we tried time outs. and yelling. and gentle reminders. and time out. AND SCREAMING. And more effing time outs. Did I mention The Screaming? And time outs? And.....all of a sudden I became that woman with a smoke hanging out of her mouth and a skull tattoo in the grocery store yelling: GOLDIE! Get over here right now and I am going to beat yer ass. I mean it this time. OMFG WHERE ARE YOU SUPER NANNY?

No one was happy. So we started talking to people, and reading. We decided that Love and Logic is right for us and just from the few techniques we have tried, Sweet Jesus, the yelling has stopped. My ears are almost ringing in the silence. I am having fun with my toddler, and she is listening! Sometimes!

Classes this week. I hope this keeps working or you will find her posted on Craigslist sometime soon.

First day

2008-09-03T16:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Goldie,

Today was your first day of preschool. I don't think that any milestone has been full of as many feelings for me as this one. Watching you walk in with your little backpack stuffed with supplies and crayons almost caused my heart to burst wide open. I think, however, rather than waxing poetic with inadequate generic descriptions about my feelings, I will give you a glimpse of the reality of this transition.

Yesterday was a rough one, Goldie. We drove home from Idaho and you decided to voice your displeasure at riding in the car. For almost eight hours you voiced this displeasure. Your voice? It was loud. The tantrum was so intense that we had to pull over and break our No Wal-Mart Rule to purchase a new car seat that you could not escape from because, well, you kept escaping.
While we were there I thought that I might as well pick up your school supplies. I pretty much remembered the list and had fun picking out items.

When we arrived home I checked the list and saw I had bought some of the wrong things and because no child of mine is going unprepared on the first day of school, I headed back to the Dreaded Walmart to return and re-purchase. This was a mistake. I won't go into the specifics for fear of flashbacks, but I will say that I never pictured myself digging through a return bin at 9:45 pm the night before school started, fighting with other mothers and children for the last glue stick and coming home without pencils because they were out of pencils. Yes. You heard right. Walmart was out of pencils.

This morning went fairly smooth and your teacher later told me that you did great. Things didn't go badly until I went to pick you up and you were so out of it tired that you actually hit me. Bad idea. Then you screamed like a caged animal for over an hour until you finally collapsed and gave in to sleep. Reluctantly.

When you woke up we had a few precious moments to ourselves and you curled up in my lap and told me about your day. Your friends. Even the girl who obviously doesn't like you is, to you, your friend. Please keep your innocence a little while longer, baby. You are growing up fast enough. I'm just holding on tight and trying to enjoy the ride.

Love,

Mama

Togetherness

2008-08-26T15:46:00.001-07:00

I moved my girls into the same bedroom over the weekend. I decided to do this for several reasons, not the least of these being that I am determined that these girls are going to have a good relationship if by nothing more than the sheer force of my will. The perk to this sleeping arrangement is that it gave us space to turn the other room into a playroom. For all their crap. Mounds and piles and OMFG can you believe how much crap two people with less than five years combined time on this earth have?

There was much sorting/cleaning/moving/donating/setting objects on fire and rolling them down a hill to do and trying to do that with two toddlers? Impossible. So we enlisted the help of one of The Godfathers, Uncle Anthony and under the guise of Quality Time, off they went Saturday. Much was accomplished and all was well. I realized that evening that there was lots of purchasing of organizational implements to be done, AKA: The Bins. Many, many of The Bins. I ended up taking Roob with me as Goldie was otherwise engaged with Screaming. And shattering eardrums. In her defense, The Screaming was induced by a traumatic injury of a gougey nature to her Achilles tendon and while warranted, The Screaming was sure to be unwelcome by the friendly folks at our local Target.

I digress. Shopping. Yes. Ruby and me and Expedition Buy the Effing Bins That Match The Other Effing Bins That We Already Have. We ended up on a 3 Target tour spanning 2 hours that coincidentally covered both the hour in which she is normally fed and the hour in which she goes to bed. Because I called the toll free number within the next twenty minutes, the universe threw Unmedicated Teething into the mix to keep things interesting. I made the best of the situation. If you happened to be shopping in any Target located on Portland's East side, yes, indeed I was the unwashed woman pushing the cart full of Rubbermaid Bins, complete with mostly naked toddler sticky with her dinner of blue raspberry Icee and popcorn who was sucking on a bottle of Jet Dry.

The girls spent the next day with their favorite almost-big-sisters Blair and Paigey (Lord knows why college girls want to spend their Sunday with two people whose idea of a good time involves a cardboard box and a plastic firefighter hat.) The resulting sleeping/playroom areas are nothing short of amazing.

Today I put them in their beds for a nap. They took that opportunity to remove the window shade, strip their sheets and get naked while laughing uncontrollably. I was furious. GIRLS!! IT IS NOT TIME FOR PLAYING, IT IS TIME FOR SLEEPING! STOP GIGGLING! THAT'S IT, GOLDIE, GET IN THE OTHER ROOM WITH YOUR PILLOW FOR NAP.

So, basically I got mad at them for taking the opportunity of forced closeness to, you know get close.

*hits forehead*

Conversations with Three

2008-08-19T22:51:00.000-07:00

I asked Goldie what her baby's name was and, naturally she said it was Marco because that is the name of the baby from Sesame Street. Speaking of which, lets face it, Sesame Street is the thin thread that separates Mean Mom of Gritted Teeth and Also Much Screaming from Nice Mommy Who Had Time to Make Coffee ThankyouJesus. Anyway. Marco. Yes. I was trying to make conversation with her that was something other than the usual "stop making me want to curl into the fetal position because the whining? Must. Stop." I asked her if since that baby was named Marco, if the other one was Polo. She looked thoughtfully for a moment and said "No. Not Polo. I don't like that name. Her name is.......ummm. Yeah. Her name is...."

Five minutes later she came back and announced that her other baby's name is Pola. Definitely not Polo. Because her mother has really crappy suggestions.

Bits

2008-08-06T21:37:00.000-07:00

While I was busy working and Davey was spending some time with Goldie enjoying her new! sticker book! Ruby was quietly digging through the pantry, naked but for her diaper. By the time we found the reason for her green, powdery baby body, she was proudly rubbing the solid green -with -mold hamburger buns all over her body like a loofah.
This past weekend our friends lent us their awesome beach house. Things were going great until a series of unfortunate events happened: 1. Goldie pooped in her nighttime pull up. 2. She ran to find us. 3. The poop in it's awe-inspiring quantity, could no longer be contained and fell out of said pull up. 4. She stepped in it. 5. Repeatedly. 6. Poop prints where incurred on very nearly white carpet. 7. I died. Needless to say, we learned a lot about the lack of availability of professional carpet cleaners on short notice and also about the Bissell full line of carpet shampooers.

3 years

2008-08-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

Dear Goldie,

Welcome to your 3rd year. Being your mom is the most incredible thing I have ever done. Watching you grow and learn and have so much fun discovering your world makes me realize that you and your sister are the most amazing gifts I will ever have in my life.

Quirky, spunky, unflappable and strong willed are the words that best describe you. After all this time I am finally realizing that you are a tiny replica of myself and that you just march to the beat of your own little drummer. Who cares if you wear polka dots with floral print? I am realizing that what matters is that you are the only one who truly knows what is right for you. I say a little prayer every day that I will have the wisdom and courage to let you be your wonderful little self and not try to stifle your jubilant nature.

You already have a way with words. When I asked you what you thought of the bats that we saw at the zoo you answered " I think that the bats at the zoo were quite offensive." Really? Or was that the word that you overheard me saying in regards to the odor of the bat cave? I really need to watch what I say, you are listening. I don't think I will ever tire of hearing you say that you have a smell in your nose or a noise in your ear. My favorite remains you referring to yourself as a "Hot mess." Stinker.

People always say how smart their kids are. They don't know that I have bred the smartest one of all. Against my heart's desire to keep you home with me forever, you started preschool today. You were so ready and I think it would be a mistake to have held you back any longer.

Goldie, you are an amazing child. You crack me up and in the next moment make me want to put you on the curb with a free sign. I have never seen a child more capable than you. You have been doing "chores" for about 6 months and you truly are a help, setting the table, holding the dustpan, handing me diapers for Sissy and putting trash liners in. You can brush your teeth, potty, fully dress yourself and seem ready, willing and able to do anything. I love that about you. Also, you may not know this, but your little sister's name is not actually Sissy.

You are the best big sister in the world, teaching Ruby the ropes and always being there to share your toys and snacks while handing out big sister hugs and kisses.

In short, I adore you. I am so lucky to be your mama. You rock.

Love,

Mama

Quandary

2008-07-30T21:27:00.000-07:00

Still haven't finished my lame attempt of wrapping 3 years of adoration and awe inspiring love into a post worthy or my kid. Will keep working on it.

For now I will be busily pondering the quandary I find myself in tonight: Does the fact that the girls are having a sleepover and giving me a whole night of soul shaking peace make going through the root canal that I am scheduled for tomorrow worth it?

At least there's nitrous oxide to look forward to. I'll take what I can get.

Placeholder

2008-07-27T23:16:00.000-07:00

Coming soon: A love letter to my Big! Girl! who has (as of Saturday) been keeping me on my toes for 3 whole years.

An open letter

2008-07-25T22:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Safeway,

Did you really think that I wouldn't notice that although I paid the same 10 for $5, that you had downsized by 2 oz each yogurt? Well, I noticed. When I was still, you know, HUNGRY after I ate it. You and the asshole economy can suck it.

Sincerely,

Mah Belly

Play it again, and again

2008-07-25T00:27:00.000-07:00

A short check in to say that although I have still not gotten my shit together to write actual blog posts due to Big! Summer! Fun! and you should really be doing the Twitter thing, because I am sending out brief, boring snippets of my boring life several times per day over there.

I will just briefly say that seeing James Taylor live never gets old as he proved tonight. Great seats and great music. I totally rocked out with my you know what out and seriously am beginning to believe that I am physically unable to like music that is less than 30 years old. If JT was a drug, I would inject him into my veins daily.

Also? Coming home to the sounds of a screaming, teething baby? Totally harshes my mellow.

More of me to love

2008-07-15T09:45:00.000-07:00

I finally figured out how to Twitter because OMG I am a crappy blogger these days, but I can find time for a sentence or two at a time, baby steps, baby steps.

Soooooo, you can find my mini-blog twitters at www.twitter.com/kirdito . I hope you will check it out and start one too because you can even post from your phone. So easy.

Little Big Girls

2008-07-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was one of those rare gems where you look at your life and catch a glimpse of everything that you have been blessed with. Chez Davey hit the road and ventured down to Depoe Bay, a darling beach town that I wish that someone would have told me that when they said "beach" they meant "giant rocky cliffs overlooking the ocean with shear drops that want to murder your children.

We stayed at one of our timeshare network and as always, the condo was perfect and much nicer than the hovel that we live in the rest of the year. We decided to take a chance to let Goldie try out the big girl bed (mattress on the floor and stern warnings of "No monkeying around") and have Ruby in the pack and play in the same room. It was magic. They fell asleep giggling with each other and when they woke up there was a long while of girly sisterly fun sounds. We will be moving them into one room to share before September.

I thought that I would be heartbroken when we left the newborn and baby phase of our life, but it isn't turning out that way. These girls are growing up a team to be reckoned with. No more nursing and up all night.

Last night Davey took Goldie out to water their father daughter summer project of sunflowers and left Ruby inside. I actually saw her heart break. She just stood there, shaking with huge tears pointing at the door they had left through as if she were trying to say "HEY GUYS! I'M HERE! THERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE" I couldn't take it.

My girls are growing up before my eyes and it is taking my breath away.

The Longest Nap

2008-07-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

After an awesome day hiking through the zoo, checking out penguins and elephants, complete with ice cream and a picnic, I threw my napless children into their beds for a pre-dinner rest time. This was at 4:00 yesterday afternoon. It is now 7:15 a.m. They have scarcely made a peep over the past 15 hours.

We started to get worried at about 9:00 last night. Then we stopped.

Officially

2008-07-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

The votes are in and we officially have (drum roll please) Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease! We would love to give an acceptance speech but are otherwise occupied with The Whining, Crying and Not Eating. We are busy, busy people. The illness was diagnosed by Dr. Google himself who asked that we render our co-pay to Comcast.

In other earth shaking news: I cleaned my bathroom today. To those of you who know me in real life you will know that one of two things precipitated this momentous occasion: 1. It reeked of Gas Station Bathroom or 2. My mother is coming for dinner. Ding ding ding! We have a winner, but it was a trick question. Both 1. and 2. are correct. I thought Davey would faint as I went in there scrubbing and sweeping. Of course I didn't tackle the tub, lets not be ridiculous here, but the floor, sink and toilet are still in shock.

A different kind of holiday

2008-07-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

We are in some kind of 4th of July hazy parallel universe where time is meaningless. Both of the girls have fevers over 102 degrees and one has been barfing since sun up. My body took the opportunity to give me the big finger for lack of sleep over the past month and rendered me knocked out (but gratefully not knocked up) for most of the day, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

I have never seen Goldie so lethargic and sad. She didn't want anything. Not popcicles or t.v. or her babies. Only hugs and snuggles until she passed out into a feverish coma. I was tempted to take her to the hospital, but I think she is going to be ok. We will see in the morning though. Roob is ok as long as she has the advil.

I guess this was a good weekend to get sick as we had no big plans, but the poor little things. Makes me almost appreciate when they are bouncing around and busting my chops. For now they are resting and Davey and I are going to pig out on the burgers and pasta salad and ice cream with fresh berries that we had planned.

I suspect we will be barfing it all up by sunrise.

Bound to happen

2008-07-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

I knew that it was bound to happen sooner or later. While we were getting ready this morning, I pulled Goldie onto my lap to give her a squeeze before I headed to wash up. She gave me a strange look of panic and said " There's a smell in my nose and it's coming from your MOUTH!"

Thus Goldie discovered the magic that is Morning Breath.

Rejuvination

2008-06-29T20:46:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get back from a weekend away from my family I feel so rejuvenated that I just want to do crazy things like be patient with my children and maybe even stop nagging my husband. Wild.

It was everything that I had hoped it would be. There was wine tasting and attempted wine tasting where Old Man Vintner kicked our cans to the calle after declaring that "I couldn't possibly give a group like this a tasting, lunching and reading. Mostly we spent our time laughing until I peed, and it felt good. Normally I would avoid soiling myself, but somehow it seemed right. I am not sure which was my favorite moment. Somewhere between listening to sweet Hattie pipe up with "What do they mean by that? A big hot wiener?" and watching the girl I would vote Most Likely to Poop Rainbows because she is so kind, furiously mining Google on her IPhone for more information on the difference between a Dirty Sanchez and a Dirty Rodriguez (note to readers: DO NOT GOOGLE THIS, omg) and offering my paltry knowledge of what a Cleveland Steamer is (See previous parenthesis, suffice it to say there is much information available regarding the possible introduction of feces into the marital bed. Ahem) Between all 9 of us I calculate that at least 13 children, 2 boyfriends, 7 husbands, 6 dogs, one 1/2 gallon of vodka, 50 trillion calories and much much wine was sacrificed for our good time.

It was still reeeeealllly nice to come home to the 3 Sweaty Muskateers waiting for the Mama Llama.

My Bad

2008-06-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

What is that you say? I have a blog? Ohhhhh, I remember now! That thing with the green and the words. Yes. Indeed. I have neglected you so, Little Blog, forgive me.

You see, summer has finally arrived and I am busying myself with summery type things such as reacquainting my children with the backyard and slicing fresh strawberries to shove into the two tiny, insatiable berry holes of my offspring. Everything is nice. Also, there is lots of working on my internship and trips to the beach. Tomorrow I am leaving The Littles with their father so that I can go on a weekend trip of debauchery with 7 other women sans sippy cups and binkys and feather boas.

While it is a little sad to leave my Roob for the first time EVER, I have a distinct hope that these women will neither wipe their noses on my shirt nor ask me to wipe their butts after A BIG ONE. I feel relaxed already.

An open letter

2008-06-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Target,

As a longtime customer of your children's clothing section I feel an obligation to let you know that some of your stores exist outside of warm climates such as Hawaii, Florida and THE SURFACE OF THE SUN. I am bringing this to your attention to assist you in your choice of clothing to stock in your children's section during the spring and early summer months. I was surprised to find no sign of any type of garment longer than hot pants since the beginning of February. Your store is located in Oregon. We wear pants here. The collection of polar fleece in the average toddler's closet would rival that of your average Eskimo. Think tiny cocoons of unexposed flesh and you will have your average Oregonian under the age of 5. There is occasionally a time when we find a use for shorts, such as when we visit the aforementioned warm climates or when we are inside getting friendly with our heat lamps.

Another news flash for you would be is that CHILDREN GROW, asswipes. I am faced with either putting them in pants two sizes two small and listening to MY PANTS ARE TOO TIGHT MAMA, I HAVE A MELVIN at inhumane decibels or putting them in shorts with thermal tights under them. Not the look we are going for.

I never thought I would be in a situation where I was begging for an effing pair of STRETCH PANTS, but seriously, for the children. Or the Melvins. Whatever.

Sincerely,

Cold Since February.

Positively Negative

2008-06-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

I wish I had something to offer you except for the surely much anticipated Herpes Update. That is to say, she is still incredibly sick and yes, she continues to be a joy to be around. And by joy I mean insufferable.

In a way I suppose that it is a good thing that no one informed the Pacific NW that it is June because I would be really bummed if I had to explain to her why we can't go out walking and to the park if it were sunny. It feels sort of like November got stuck on repeat and so we are enduring long grey days full of torrential rain and general gloominess. I am starting to think that we are going to skip summer altogether and try again next year.

Breathe Kirsten, breathe. This can't last forever. Can it?

The bad disease Part Deux

2008-06-08T21:56:00.000-07:00

The Herpes continue to wreak havoc at Chez Davey. I am told that all children respond to illness and pain differently. If when they say differently they mean that they turn into screaming, tantruming evil ankle biters whom, judging by their tear stained cheeks and frowny scowls, may be plotting to perpetrate some kind of a kinder sized coup. That's different alright.

Help. This is threatening my very sanity and why can't she curl up in a ball with a blankie and watch Sesame Street like a normal human and eat the ice cream I bought her instead of making me want to put her in the yard with a free sign? The dr. says this may take 10 days to clear up. I know she is hurting as her gums are still swollen and they said there are giant open lesions in her throat (yum), but why won't she just wave a white flag, say ouchie and EAT SOME FUCKING ICE CREAM ALREADY.

The Bad Disease

2008-06-06T12:24:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, Goldie stopped eating. She also had a fever of 101-ish and so I did what any loving mother would do, gave her some Advil and pretended that nothing was wrong. She has an extremely high pain tolerance and never acts sick, even when she is. I should have known better. We went to play dates, on long walks and a very large parade. Then yesterday I noticed that her gums were swollen. And bleeding. I saw visions of missed flossing opportunities and late night bottles of milk and began frantically dialing doctors and googling Red Gums+Fever+Incompetent Mother+Doom followed by Baby Dentures Better than Diamond Grill+Toddler.

When we finally went in last night, the triage nurse took one look at her mouth and was all "dude, what took you so long to get here?" The kind doctor somehow convinced her to open her mouth and thought it was strep for sure and did a throat culture that, judging by Goldie's reaction felt like being stabbed in the eye with a hot poker. Eventually she calmed down and ate a Popsicle while we awaited the results. Not strep. The doc was still concerned and I casually mentioned that ha ha, I have this leeeeetle cold sore here on my mouth and that dot above her mouth looks soooort of like a cold sore, couldthathaveanythingtodowiththis?

I held the poor little duckling down so we could pry her tiny mouth open for another look. All the doc said was "impressive, I'll be right back." Ten minutes and another Popsicle later she returned with Diagnoses Oral Herpes-Some-Big-Word. Apparently she has giant open lesions in her throat and there is no treatment other than Advil. Damn it, WHY wasn't I more careful when I felt the cold sore coming on? I feel about an inch tall.

I also wish that her and Roob had not spent the past week having an old fashioned drool-off while Roob practiced her kissing skills. But that, I am sure, will be another story.

Photographic Proof

2008-06-02T21:17:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin and my niece.......I am still freaking out

Sleepy

2008-05-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

Twas a brilliant reunion. We laughed, we cried, we ate a lot of cake and pastry. Now? We are very, extremely, mind numbingly tired. You see, Ruby decided to take this vacation opportunity to stop.sleeping. No shit. Even Goldie is looking at me like, dude, why is she trying to kill us? Can we leave her here?

OMG

2008-05-24T13:27:00.000-07:00

I interrupt this calm family vacation to lose my shit because Pumpkin from the Flavor of Love is TOTALLY AT MY FAMILY REUNION because she dates my cousin. She is the girl who SPIT in New York's face at elimination and she is HERE, like playing bingo with my 82 year old aunt. OMFG. This is going to be good.

Happy Weekend

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

Tomorrow we are off to the big family reunion in Colorado. We are flying with my sister and her kids. And my mom. And everything we own. That is 5 kids 4 and under+5 adults+5:30 in the morning=omfg what were we thinking. David has not met my extended family so that is sort of a big deal. And when I say big deal I mean that I have been freaking out day and night for the past two weeks trying to think of how I am going to handle it when Davey accidentally drops and F-bomb in front of Aunt Della and how I will bring her out the shock induced coma that will surely result.

I sent the girls to daycare for the day so I could shop for some last minute clothes. After cleaning out the Dollar Store for lead coated toys for the kids to suck on during our flight, I bought Tiny T-shirts at Old Navy in size XL and Skinny Capri's at Lane Bryant, because I am complicated.

My trusty laptop will be with me so I can blog my little heart out. Also? Please don't come to my house and rob us while we are gone. Besides, I totally pawned the family jewels for the plane tickets so we don't have anything else you'd want.

Have a great weekend!

Boobs! Again!

2008-05-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I talked about my hooters. But since there aren't enough of you, I thought I would reach out to a larger audience. Things are grim in Lactation Station and so I went ahead and Asked Moxie . Man, those ladies know their shit.

Night Out

2008-05-18T17:56:00.000-07:00

Last night we went out to celebrate our friend Erica's birthday. Most of us have small children and Thank The Sweet Baby Jesus that one of us has grown children who would rather take care of our kids than swill vodka. We started out at a BBQ joint that also has a full bar and fun music and brought the kids along. That is where our children morphed into BBQ Babies and ate their weight in ribs and beans.

We ended up at our friend Tanya's house and set up the pack and plays while her girls somehow got mine to sleep while I threw back some more wine because, dude, I don't get out much.

Goldie ended up crashing there and when I picked her up this morning I asked her what she ate for breakfast. "Butt Licks," she said. "Breakfast?" I asked. " No, mama. BUTT LICKS." uh, sure. So I later found out that it was BUCKWHEAT that she had eaten. "Golds, it was BUCK-WHEAT, you ate." "I know, mama, I told you I had BUTT LICKS!"

Stolen

2008-05-15T17:24:00.000-07:00

In our Friday class there are four girls. They are named Daphne, Belle, Goldie and Maxine. It is toddler ballet and not a geriatric water aerobics class as the participants names may have led you to believe.

*I am totally ripping the content of this post from my friend Katy because she doesn't have a blog and it was begging to be shared with the world. Also I am sort of an a-hole friend.

My kleenex runneth over

2008-05-12T20:44:00.000-07:00

The sickness and snot and overwhelming sense of woe and despair have resulted in my week not being off to the best start. I set up shop in the doctors office for much of the weekend with Ruby and The Fever. The good news is that the fever is down, the bad news is that she is so pissed off about being sick that she has gone on a nursing strike. Ruby Doobie most definitely DOES NOT want a boobie. Soooooo I have been to see Barb! and her hospital grade pump since mine was not doing a good extraction and feel much better. I don't know if this is the end of the nursing or not. I have complained so much about her not wanting to stop that if she decides to stop I am going to be disappointed. But I'll be free! I guess I just never pictured it ending this way. I had a vision of her coming home at lunchtime in high school for some milky.

Goldie has fluid in her ear and a lot of pain. Also? She is acting like a tiny deaf monster who is unable to hear words like "no, stop and I am going to put you up for adoption."She is spending much of her day in time out, stepping on her sister's hands and trying to make me batshit crazy.

It was just too much to deal with on top of this family tree and work and having a cold myself (thank you Roob) and so my kind and benevolent boss Tami let me off the hook for work this week.

So there you have it. Things are crazy. Send martinis.

Ocupada

2008-05-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

Are you still reading this? For reals? Because I am so crazy these days I done went gone and forgot about this here blog. Also forgot?Correct grammar. Here is a list of things that have been keeping me away from this blog, in no particular order, because that's how I roll:

The Effing Family Tree. Here's a tip: If someone ever says "hey, you like to mess around with that new fancy computer type stuff with the keyboard and the thingamagig, why don't you do a family tree for the reunion this year," say hell to the no because what they really mean is "We never liked you very much anyway and would like to see what you look like without any hair after you are done pulling it out."
The Teething. OMG, the teething. The crying. The chewing. The screaming. Make like Dick Cheney and shoot me in the face already because this? I cannot take any more.
Poop in a Pullup. Because my toddler is trying to make nap time interesting. And when I say interesting, I mean effing sucky.
The Fever of Mystery. I think my baby is going to burst into flames.
The Reading. I met a really smart woman who is going to let me intern for what could someday be my dream job and because I also don't know anything about said dream career, I have to first read about it. So, yeah. The library. Am mega geek. Please help.
The Lazy. But you totally knew that.

BFF

2008-05-06T16:32:00.001-07:00

Before heading off on a walk with our friends, Ruby and her BFF Ani hung out in our new-to-us giant double stroller of untold ginormousness. OMG this thing is huge. I mean, seriously. Ridonkulous.

Tender Moments Like These....

2008-05-01T21:31:00.000-07:00

I was pretty warm yesterday afternoon when I sat down to nurse Roob and I was wearing a tank top. I was so engrossed in my favorite show Dallas (Best show EVAH) and I was so concerned about learning Who Shot JR for the 500th time I have watched that episode, that I didn't notice the little sharp pains at first. That is when I looked down at my little nursling, sucking away and saw her little Vienna sausage fingers wrapped around.......my armpit hair.

Spring has sprung. Maybe it is time for a shave.

Overheard

2008-04-29T22:10:00.000-07:00

Davey, in another room: Honey? Can you help me with the kids? I am sooooo sleepy.

Me: Nope, sorry, I have some work to do, just let them watch Sesame Street.

Davey: No way! I don't want them watching too much t.v.

Me: Whatevs dude. Your choice. I am working.

Goldie: Read me the book about Elmo's lost blankie AGAIN Daddy!

Davey: ZZZZzzzz. Oh. Crap. I fell asleep. Ok, you win, Sesame Street it will be.

Me: They don't call it an electronic babysitter for nothing, yo.

Davey: ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz

Goldie and Ruby: *silence*

Quote of the day

2008-04-25T16:04:00.000-07:00

The first thing that Goldie said to me when she woke up this morning: "Sometimes Daddy toots. Sometimes he toots in my room."

I was hoping that she would be much older when she figured this out. Davey? The jig is up.

An Open Letter

2008-04-17T15:13:00.000-07:00

Dear guy who doesn't supervise his child,

Hi. You don't know me. I'll bet you don't get many letters from women, mostly because you are a douche bag. If it sounds like I am being a bit harsh on you, then let me use that as an opener to say that your son was a bit harsh on my child in the coffee shop playroom today. What was that? You had no idea? Of course you didn't because YOU WERE SEVERAL ROOMS AWAY PLAYING PINBALL ON THE INTERNET DRINKING SOME KIND OF DOUCHEY FAUX COFFEE.

I also want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to discipline you child after he PINCHED, GRABBED and SHOVED THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. I was just thinking the other day that I have a lack of child discipline opportunities in my life. THANK YOU, ASSWIPE.

I hope you will someday reap the fruits of your excellent parenting. It would appear that your son is on target to follow in your footsteps, he is kind of a douche bag too.

You must be proud.

In case you were wondering.....

2008-04-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

Just in case you were wondering, why yes, yes that was nipple cream that I was wearing as lip gloss to girls night out at Applebees the other night. Thanks for asking.

Commit to Memory

2008-04-09T15:25:00.000-07:00

For all of the mundane tasks that motherhood brings, today my girls have given me so many reminders as to why they are the center of my world. I picked up a screaming Roob and predictably, she quieted and put her head on my shoulder. She popped her little head up and smiled at me before giving me the wettest, gooiest, most heartfelt kiss I ever received. Not to be outdone, Goldie ran up and started kissing my legs. The three of us stood there near the dining room table for a few moments just kissing and hugging and silently confirming the bond we have as The Girls.

A few hours later I was nursing Roob before her nap and she fell asleep. I moved her so she could rest and I realized that maybe this would be the last time that my baby-not-so-much-anymore might fall asleep on my chest. I soaked it all in. Her sleepy, heavy body breathing softly into my face with her string cheese breath and you know what? I thought I was in heaven.

I love this life.

Boring

2008-04-07T17:42:00.000-07:00

This blog is unusually quiet these days because even if I used all of my clever words and strung them together in a strategic and well thought out way, the boringness of the daily grind would seem even more boring than it actually is. Not crappy, just not interesting. If I would have written for the past few days it would have went like this:

I woke up today and fed the girls. Then I went grocery shopping. The end.

Do you really want to read that? That's what I thought.

Also, I am on a mission to find vegetables that someone with 6 teeth and and a bad attitude can eat with with their fingers because she is too grown up to be fed by her dorky parents. I gave Roob a green bean the other day and she actually punched me in the face. Peas were met leerily, but without violence. Goldie is like a garbage disposal and eats everything not nailed down so I am unprepared for this. What vegetables do your kids like?

Bits

2008-04-03T21:57:00.001-07:00

The Toys R Us across town is closing for remodel and all of the toys are 40% off. Do you know what that means? That clearly means that we went into the store and lost our damned minds and now have Christmas and birthdays covered until they are in their 30's. I seriously hope that Goldie with have plastic play food on her list in 2035, but seriously, don't tell her, I don't want to ruin the surprise.

We had an awesome playdate at our house this week. There were 6 little girls here eating dino-nuggets that marginally qualify as food. Then we fed them cake and gossiped. The three potty trained big girls lined up in the bathroom to go poop one by one and after Goldie went she stuck her face into the toilet and told everyone that IT'S A BIG ONE! and then came to find me in the kitchen without any pants with a wet wipe in her hands and bent over. Her friend Belle was not convinced that it WAS REALLY BIG! so she too went into the potty, stuck her face in the toilet and checked it out.

At what age do they become civilized?

Happy Birthday Roob!

2008-03-31T19:57:00.000-07:00

The birth story is finally here! One year later! Whatevs, I been kind of busy. More for me than for you, but I suppose you can read it if you want to. It's going to be REALLY long. And not funny. Because it hurt like hell and I hated every second of it. Love the baby, hate the process.I write it because I want to remember. I want to continue the lovely tradition that my mom has of telling me the story of my own birth each year. I also may need to be reminded that I really don't want to do this again. Really.
Here goes:

I had no idea I was pregnant when I took the test. I was going to use an ovulation predictor kit and someone suggested I take a test just to be sure before we started the opk. Two lines. NO WAY. This is, like 3 months before we planned on trying. David is going to kill me. Bahhh. Once we got over the shock like 5 min. later we were super excited.

Pregnancy is not kind to me. I barf. I am nauseous. I am depressed. Horribly, terribly, depressed. There is no escaping the nausea. I need to sleep. I have another baby who needs me. I am literally counting the days. I retreat into myself and stop answering my phone, emails and generally become a hermit. People get worried. I get worried.

About two weeks before my due date I started feeling like she might just fall out at any moment. I was really short of breath and was generally feeling ready to go at any moment. Goldie had come two weeks early so I was hoping, hoping, hoping.

The day I went into labor, my friend Anthony came over with coffee and to keep me company. He very kindly went with me to bring Goldie into the dr. because she had a MAJOR diaper rash that I knew wasn't clearing up and I wanted to get it taken care of before I had the baby. Anthony came with me because I could no longer keep up with a very busy Goldie in the dr.'s office and had contractions when I carried her.

Man, these contractions are starting to hurt.

That night I wanted to get out of the house to distract myself and so we went out to pizza. I remember wondering if this was really labor and feeling sort of strange being in such a public place with so much going on inside. I didn't want to get David excited so I tried to be calm, but I was having pretty hard contractions all through dinner.

We put Goldie to bed and I convinced myself that this was just another false start so just go to bed already. I fell asleep, but was having dreams that I was in pain. David came in to go to bed and I woke up and realized that I really was in pain, and these contractions were 4 min. apart and no joke. We gots to go.

Mom showed up about midnight as I was trying to hastily pack my bag because I hadn't wanted to get my hopes up too early. I must have looked pretty funny because I was sort of wobbling/bouncing around the house stopping for contractions that were frighteningly intense and long.

David made me sit on a towel in the car because he was convinced that my water was going to break . Being the piggish person I am, I made Davey stop to get me a strawberry milkshake before we went to the hospital. What? You know that you totally wish that you had thought of it when they starved your ass for a 12 hour labor.

Every 3 min. now.

When we got to the hospital, things slowed a bit, but I was definitely in labor and they asked me if I wanted to sit in the tub. Sure, why not. Except you have to get naked. And Davey stepped out to get my pillows. And a nurse had to supervise me getting undressed because of the IV. Aww nawws. This was one of those humiliations that you never forget, but the nurse was so kind and I will also never forget that.

Long story short, the tub? Not relaxing. My contractions worsened in there and by the time I got out, I was writhing in pain and begging for an epidural. The only thing I remember about getting the epidural was being so completely miserable that I simply stared into my mothers eyes who was sitting across the room and wept as softly as I could so that the needle would find the right spot. At first it was heavenly, everything was great and I caught several hours sleep. Then two things happened. First, I was deemed to not be progressing fast enough so they gave me pitocin, then they broke my water. The instant that my water broke, the pain started. But only on one side. I thought I would die. They came to fix the epidural, moved me from side to side, but the pain continued. One half was in no pain, the other was experiencing pitocin induced horrific contractions every minute. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE EFFING NURSE SAID TO ME? " Well you need to feel SOMETHING or you won't be able to push. SOMETHING? Like maybe the sensation of having my insides RIPPED OUT, STEPPED ON AND SET ON FIRE? DOES THAT COUNT? So, they didn't believe me. Then a miracle happened. I realized that there was no one to help me and I was going to have to do this myself. I reached down deep and found a type of peace that is hard to describe and I focused on breathing away the pain. I squeezed my eyes shut and didn't open them for several hours. I took control. I shhhhhed doctors, nurses and my husband. I asked them to stop talking and joking. I was in charge of this show now.

As things progressed, I knew I was getting close and the only way I felt better was to push. They told me not to push. So, I lay there, very, very quietly and pushed enough to balance the incredible pressure and I must have looked like I was pooping. Maybe I was. I didn't care.

When I was getting ready to push, I finally opened my eyes and saw Good Friend Mindy directly in front of me across the room. With a camera My legs were not closed. I said some very unkind things that I had to apologize for later. Sorry Minds.

When the time came to push her out, I went with all my might. I was in so much pain I looked at my 90 lb. midwife and said JUST FUCKING GET IT OUT. She threatened me with an episiotomy and I shut up.

Finally, Finally, she was halfway out. And she was warm. And she was healthy. And she was apparently being choked by the tiny midwife who was wrestling her butt out of me and it was very, very weird. They had to wait for the placenta to detach because she had a very short cord. When I saw her, the cutest baby I had ever seen, I noticed her birthmark on her forehead and immediately wondered if it would get raised and hairy and omg the kids on the playground are going to tease her and can you please get me the name of a good plastic surgeon? Ahem. Does she have ten toes?

And there she was. This daughter, this sister, this girl. The one who completes us. Whom we love beyond all reason.

Happy Birthday My Roob, For you are the reason I myself, was born.

The Poop. It smells.

2008-03-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

You know that it is going to be unpleasant when you walk into your toddler's room during naptime and the first thing you hear is DON'T TOUCH MY POOPER, followed by a smell so foul that a port-a-potty at the fair would have been aromatically pleasing. Yes,, there was a major eruption of Mt. Feces, yes it had been sitting there for at least 2 hours, and no she had not been crying. She had been smearing. On her feet. And smiling. And laughing. Guffawing. I think I heard a chortle.

Cleanup involved a shower, a bucket and a lot of laundry.

Proud Parenting Moment #6907

2008-03-24T17:17:00.000-07:00

Within one hour of each other I both had to pull over the car, blocking traffic, to pry a blue plastic Easter egg from my toddler's jaw as she had tried to shove it into her throat and couldn't breathe, AND found my baby chewing on a cigarette butt. We do not smoke.

I feel very small. Halp.

Mean Mama

2008-03-20T21:06:00.000-07:00

Not to much going on here at Chez Davey. The main thing has been that Goldie is going through some kind of Boundary Testing That Threatens To Kill Us All. This has manifested itself through whining, begging, crying and CLOCKING ME IN THE FACE. When that final one happened I channeled my mother, gritted my teeth and got up in her 20 toothed grill and scared the binky out her mouth if you know what I mean. I actually created wind that blew her hair back and I think at one point I actually roared. I don't think she will hit me again. Also? Today the whine fest over NO DRESS I WANT A SHIRT chant, while she was strapped in her car seat that didn't seem to have an end resulted in me Pulling This Car Over If You Don't Stop Whining. She whimpered NO DRESS I WANT SHIRT, very softly and it resulted in the aforementioned pulling over and possibly another round of Meet My Deranged Mother The Lioness.

This behaviour alternates with the sweetest angel toddler who help with everything, including when I found her lugging a 20lb bucket of dish washing soap across the house because it was not in it's place. I think she has a future in bodybuilding.

A good weekend

2008-03-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

Today we journeyed to my longtime friend's house for The Hunt. This is a long standing Easter tradition of candy filled eggs and occasionally bloody stumps. I was stoked to pass this day on to my children as I watched Goldie's eyes get wide as she FOUND ONE! NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH IT AGAIN?

Roob had a good time too. She spent her day crawling on the floor looking for bits of treats and possibly plastic choking hazards to ram in her cry hole. She eventually found a piece of Styrofoam that my brother in law fished out of her mouth and gave me the Glary Glare of Incompetent Parenting, but I was like I'm really sorry I am not watching my children right now, but can't you see that I AM TRYING TO EAT CANDY HERE? Really.

In other news, we are now proud owners of a hot tub that is bringing much joy and pruny fingers to our lives. Goldie keeps asking to go in, but I feel that would be counter intuitive as I got the hot tub to relieve the stress that having two small children incur and bringing them in so that they can complain about trifles like "I'm hot" ,"My flesh is melting" and "I think sissy is drowning" is not exactly what I have in mind.

My little sailor

2008-03-12T21:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight while we were enjoying our dinner, we heard Goldie muttering something over and over under her breath. I thought it sounded familiar, but were unsure and so I finally asked her what, pray tell, was she saying. She looked up at me, square in the eye with a huge grin across her face. "Fuck it, Fuck it, Fuck it," she announced. Unfortunately, raw emotion took over and I tried as hard as I could to stifle a smile because it was so damned funny. And inappropriate. But I failed. I did what any crazy person would do and I jumped up from the table and ran to hide my giggles in the kitchen.

Davey, my brilliant co-parent, thought quick and came up with an explanation. "See Goldie, you upset Mama so much that she had to leave." I feigned sobs for a few minutes before returning to scold her.

Very clever, my love. Very, very clever.

Peace

2008-03-09T20:34:00.000-07:00

I have recently found that if I want to find time for myself, then I must simply reach out and GRAB IT WITH MY GRUBBY PAWS. I have taken up long, er, well, 45 minute or so walks ALONE at my favorite fitness trail. It has provided me opportunity to reflect about things that aren't related to poop, Dr. Seuss or OPEN THE BABY GATE FOR ME MAMA. AGAIN. I just plug in my Ipod and start trekking around. Very Slowly. Seriously, elderly people with canes pass me. Whatevs.

Who knew that you could find your inner peace while listening to The Humpty Dance?

The darndest things

2008-03-07T18:46:00.001-08:00

Tonight, we had a real treat for dinner when Davey brought home steaks. Goldie surveyed the table to make sure that everything was equitable and that she had not been left out of any culinary deliciousness that graced our table. She noted that Mommy had meat, Goldie had meat and DADDY! HAS BIG MEAT!

Big meat indeed.

Repeat

2008-03-07T09:57:00.000-08:00

At the risk of becoming The Illness Blog, I must tell you that our family has fallen ill to yet another cold, this one not quite as severe as the last. I thought I was going to beat the rest of the colds this year because of all The Vegetables and The Garlic Pills. Bahh. Because I have time on my hands, I started a chart and it is clear that we were well for less than 14 days before this one came. Obviously God hates us.

Also? I am totally walking around the house with bits of Kleenex shoved up each nostril because I NEED 30 SECONDS WITHOUT BLOWING MY NOSE OK?

Stop looking at me like that.

Genius

2008-03-05T20:35:00.000-08:00

If you saw a woman in a minivan chugging liquid out of a sippy cup this morning, that was me. I wanted to bring my sugar free chai and almond milk with me and there were no other portable fluid vessels around. I felt like a genius. A 29 year old genius drinking out of a sippy cup. In a minivan. Help.

I also promised to publicly declare that Davey was right and iwaswrong when earlier this week I was convinced that I was going to die and he was all "don't worry, you're fine. Calm down." Then I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Funny thing, haha, um. I'm fine. Not going to croak. So, Davey Jones YOU WERE RIGHT. Whatevs.