Life Was Simpler in the Age of 8-Track Tapes

Midway through our 7 hour trip to Rancho Mirage, I pull out my trusty laptop to write.

A fairly new concept, thanks to my in-laws, the laptop goes with me everywhere now, just in case I have a brain twitch and need to get it in print before my mind swallows it whole and I forget about it 3 seconds later.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Limo windows.

I will give you full royalties if you just name it after me.

The Jen Window.

The invention I NEED to have made is for regular-non-stretch variety cars to offer an electronic window between the front of the car to the back.

Seriously, and we think driving while talking/texting on a cell phone is dangerous!

How about a four year old’s squeals of “I’m hungry, my turn on the DS, give me your iPod, and get your feet off my head!” piercing my eardrums at 2000 decibles??

Nevermind that she packed her own backpack of toys to keep her busy on the trip.

It’s still on the floor, zipped.

I’m not even driving and I want to stick the keys in my eyes.

And I forgot my earplugs.

I thought I’d be beyond this stage by now. But it gets worse with the tweens. Just wait. They will eat you alive.

I remember driving to Oregon when I was little, all I needed was the Grease Soundtrack on 8-track and I was good.

Grease was the word you know, and I loved me some Frankie Valli.

Bee-yoo-tee-school dropout….I can’t believe I never questioned what a hooker was when I heard that song at age 9. (hindsight glance into space)…

I loved that green Audi we had too, everyone thought it was a Mercedes.

I didn’t tell them different either, not my fault they couldn’t read.

Sigh.

Oh hey, it’s sprinkling. And it’s 88 degrees out.

Chances for a cool down to about 109 in Palm Springs is possible people, keep your fingers crossed for us.

Hold on my phone….

Apparently the Grapevine doesn’t accept calls, I have no bars.

Sorry mom. Call you later.

It smells like wet pavement and McD’s pancakes now.

We just rolled down the windows so K could feel the rain and giggle.

Aw. See just when you pull the keys out of your eyes, the cherubic toddler does something completely adorable.

It all may go back to hell in a handbasket, I give it 10 minutes.

As we pass Six Flags Magic Mountain, a collective “awww!” comes over the car.

No we can’t go there, we’re going to fry in the desert and that’s final!

I will now stuff some leftover pancake in my ears and take a little nap.

Stop the Ride, I Need to Get Off!

AHHHHHHHHHH!

Okay, that's out of the way!

It's a crazy week, things are moving too fast, and HOW is it the 10th of March already??

So much stuff going on, the anxiety has kicked in full force and the caffeine is exacerbating it!

DQ gets home from camp today, yay!

Tomorrow I have to take snack for K's preschool.

Friday is My Boy's birthday, snacks/cupcakes to school.

Saturday is his party.

Last weekend we were supposed to have the Bat-a-Thon for baseball. It was rescheduled to right in the middle of MB's party.

Figures. So now I'm in the middle of rescheduling it, calling/texting/emailing invitees to let them know.

Sunday at the butt-crack of dawn I fly out for the International Home Show in Chicago. My first blogger-related event!! I've never been to Chicago (let alone, alone!), I haven't personally met any of the other bloggers attending. I'm going to meet up with my brother's friends, who I also have never met.

I come home Monday night.

Whirlwind much?!

THEN, having just booked our summer vacation condo in Tahoe, I get a note that DQ's annual Ballet Intensive is smack dab in the middle of our vacation. If she doesn't attend, she doesn't compete. No exceptions. Fabulous. The condo is booked all summer.

Screwed.

Not to mention I turned down an all-inclusive blogging event in Cancun due to last minute and no passport.

Can I cry now?

wah.

Heat + Competition = Mommy Drinky

It's been a long hot day in these neck of the woods.

So warm we hit Yaya's pool.

TWICE.

Morning and evening dip.

Well not me, but the competitors.

That's right my children, their friends and cousins...and lots of competition.

What was the prize you ask?

Nothing.

But glory I suppose, bragging rights.

But everything in a 8-11 year old's mind is about competing.

And rules, that change every second.

And winners, who are usually your friends first then your siblings, then cousins in that order.

Then the losers cry.

Then mom yells.

Loud, because there are 6 kids in the pool making noise.

Who can make the biggest splash?
Who can dive the straightest dive?
I won the race.
No I did, I touched your hand.
But you were supposed to tag the side of the pool.
Those are my goggles.
That's my floatie.
It's my turn.
Who can do a cool cannonball?
Can YOU do the pencil?
Who can retrieve the most pennies from the bottom of the pool? In the shortest breath, the least amount of breaths, can count to 6000 underwater, can burp the loudest chlorine burp, who can hog the goggles the longest, who can cry the loudest when someone doesn't share, who can annoy mom the most in one afternoon so she is ready for a bottle of hard alcohol by 5pm and she is NOT SHARING?!

Who wins the contest?

Me.

For living through another day without ripping my hair out strand by strand.

Yay.

Go me.

Man it's hot.

Who's going to pass out the earliest tonight only to probably repeat this all again tomorrow?!

Me.

I win again!

Dumpster Diving Would Be More Fun

Dumps.

Dumpy.

Dumpster.

Just feeling plain DUMP lately.

And speaking of dump, would someone please talk to my 3 year old and inform her that 'taking one' isn't bad.

It's actually good. A relief. Takes a 'load' off ever-so-literally!

SIGH.

The wine bottle has been opened tonight my friends. The drinking has begun.

Washes the sorrows away if only for a few hours.

SIGH.

In other news, My Boy got blood drawn (fasting...ridiculous for children in my opinion) and whimpered over it. Luckily forgot the whole thing by baseball practice.

Also saw a podiatrist. Flat feet. I'm pretty sure me not nursing is not the cause. Yay, one point- me!

Sorry, inside joke only I can laugh at.

SIGH.

What? K farted?! Well, it's a step in the right direction.

Sorry. All I have lately is poop and fart talk. I swear I've asked, "do you have to go poopoo?" about a trillion times in the last few days. It gets old. Ask K, she's clearly sick of the question and is just saying, "shut the Hello Kitty up!"

She'd never say that. Now I feel guilty for suggesting twice in a week that my 3 year old swears using stuffed cats as her 'go-to' word.

Is it vacation time? And by vacation I mean, is it time for mommy to fly off to a tropical island (preferably where they're filming LOST) and lay on the beach with a Mai Tai in each hand?!

Yes?!

Lovely! Bye now.

The One With 4 Stores

It's crazy.

Insane.

This grocery shopping thing is making my head spin.

Our main store, let's call it Schmaleys, well they are highly over-priced.

So we switched to an alternate store Chafehay. The prices are better.

But, the change is overwhelming. Overwhelming because we had to learn a new road map to maneuver the place.

It's like coming home to find your bedroom on the opposite side of your house, and the shower outside.

It's that crazy.

Our main store was like our second home. Plus, the produce and meat selection....like one of our children. Huggable, loveable, 7% fat and fresh.

Imagine my horror when I tried to choose a few good kids at the "other" store. The meat is not as lean. The celery, not as crisp.

Then we tried gargantuan Scmalbart. Even better prices, but the meat and produce...not worthy or our main store.

Don't get me started on Plarget. I am anxiously awaiting their addition of a produce and meat section, so I can just pop a tent in the outdoor section and live there.

Damn it! Trying to make a dang good meal requires 4 stores, two towns, and hours of stress.

Why can't this be easier?!

Sweet Dreams are Made of F's

It's been a while *coughoneweek14yearscough* since I graduated from college.

I did actually graduate with a BS and an almost minor in Education. I have the transcripts and diploma to prove it.

And the pictures of me in my cap and gown.

And the University of California seal tattooed on my... nevermind.

Really though, I did.

Why am I so insecure?

It's my dreams. No, not the one where you get to class and you are in your birthday suit in front of an auditorium of Chem 1 students.

That's a totally different dream.

But this recurring dream that makes me wake in a cold sweat.

It goes like this....

I'm hanging around my apartment with my roommates and my then boyfriend-now Hubby. Everyone is busy doing something. Mainly studying. I'm just hanging around, eating, watching tv, wasting time. Sounds about right so far. Well then someone gets up to leave and says, "good luck on your finals everyone, i'm off to Animal Husbandry 131 for a stint with a cow."

Suddenly it hits me, it's FINALS week!! Why am I not studying?

I scramble around my apartment looking around for my schedule and see that I have finals in classes I don't remember attending.

Physics 101, Calculus 5, and History of East Asia 867-5309! How in the hell? I run amok looking for books, notes, anything that might give me that edge in the test that will inevitably ruin me.

I find nothing. Nothing but panic-stricken anxiety that I will ultimately fail all my
classes and be forced to go to summer school. My transcripts tarnished for life.

Now I've had weirder dreams than this.

Spicy food and vodka will do that.

But I've had this dream reapeatedly for years.

Any dream analyzers out there?

Tales From the Orthodontist Office

Yes, DQ still has braces.

We're still in Phase One. Luckily we've paid off phase one.

Who knows when the Phase Two bills will come.

But, this post isn't about DQ.

It's about me. And My Boy. And K.

The wait-ees in the waiting area during DQ's appointments.

The small ever-so-cramped waiting area. Well that's what it feels like when you're there for an hour. With 8 other wait-ers. And one sadistic toddler.

Oh there are toys.

Legos. Puzzles. Even this annoying clacky-Barney-clicky-thing. Plenty.

But, those get old after AN HOUR.

Most of DQ's appointments are 10 minutes max. Boom, from green rubber bands to pink. Boom, we're out.

Not last week.

K was on some tirade asking for something a million point two times.

A boy, maybe 12, waiting for his turn, shook his head and mumbled something to me.

Me: Pardon? I didn't hear you?
Him: I'm NEVER having kids, I couldn't take all those questions!!
Me: [laughing] yeah, they're all the SAME question too.

I channeled Napoleon Dynamite in my head, DUDE, you don't even know!

And that was just the incessant chatter portion of the wait.

Then K proceeded to sit backwards on a chair and fall in a matter of seconds. I scooped her up off the floor and asked if she was okay. Then she proceeded to yell, "mommy YOU MEAN, you poke my pits!"

OMG, I just picked her up off the floor!

By this time the sweat is pouring off me.

She starts poking and prodding her brother and they start a major fight.

Super duper. When the hell is this new-color-rubberbands appointment going to end?

I take her and My Boy to the car and buckle her in her carseat while she wails for the next 20 minutes.

I finally see DQ in the window motioning to me.

Oh sure, leave a 2 year old and a 7 year old in the car alone, so CPS can come. I wave her over to me.

Me: You can kindly tell them your sister is pitching the biggest fit of her life and they're lucky we're still not in the office.
DQ: Um. no. What's a good time for our next appt?
Me: One month, any time after 2pm.

Oh, and for the record, she got a spring that day. Which in itself still only took 10 minutes. WTF?!

The One Where I Don't Shut Up

My writing is mumbly jumbly at best most days.

I'm a rambler, through and through.

I don't use spell check. It's raw, uncensored, verbal diarreah from me daily.

You're welcome.

The same happens in person. Sometimes it's so bad and I get all sweaty and blushy-like.

Like today. Day 2 of school and I tried to carry on an adult conversation with DQ's teacher after school.

Me--Did you have a great second day?
Teacher--Yes, it was wonderful, this is a great class!
Me--Same group DQ had last year, yep they are a great set of kids.
Teacher--You can't go wrong with accelerated students...most of the time.
Me--I just wanted you to know that I have a toddler at home, so if I can help by taking work home with me, I can do that for you. At home.
[Did I just say home 3 times in the same breath?]

Teacher--Oh thank you, that would be great, you can grade papers.
Me--Cool. I never did much of that when I was a teacher, I taught K/1.

[Here we go.]

Teacher--Oh yeah when?
Me--10 years ago. Before DQ was born.

[Duh, she can do the math. Oh and she's humoring you, don't say more!!]

Me--I want to support DQ's and MB's teachers as much as possible, I know what you go through.

[Shut it, shut it now]

Me--At home, not here. I can't being K with me.
Teacher--Okay, I'll write your name down. Is it Jen with 2 n's or one?
Me--Two.

[NO IT'S NOT, it's ONE!]

Me--I mean one. One in Jen. 2 in Jennifer.

[You're blowing it man! Even DQ is rolling her eyes]

Teacher (walking me out the door)--Great, see you tomorrow.

[Restrain yourself!]

Me--Okay. Bye.

[Phew, if you would have said HOME one more time she would have slapped you silly!]

Sad, isn't it? For more of my senseless drivel, check out my Guest Post over at Amy, Amy, Bo Bamey's!!

Dr. Google Says I Have......

...about 15 different ailments.

I'm feeling physically 'off.' Something is going on and i'm hoping to see my doctor today to see if we can figure out what it is.

DO NOT, under any circumstances, spend countless hours google searching symptoms and problems! UGH. The outcome is stress, tension, stress, and fear.

I've felt 'off' for a few weeks but I ignored it. Then when I finally thought, maybe I should call the dr., it was 5pm on Friday and the office was closed.

Then of course because it's the weekend, my ailment seems to get worse, more uncomfortable, and I'm pondering the ER.

But, then I'm reminded of the Christmas Eve visit to the ER that left me without antibiotics for two days after because NO pharmacy in a 50 mile radius is open on Christmas day...AND you still got a $1000 bill. Plus the minimum wait is at least 4 hours.

Suffer through it.

Try to distract your mind.

For the love of all that is holy, STOP GOOGLING 'ovarian cysts,' 'kidney stones,' and 'fibroids!'

That's me giving myself a pep talk.

Hopefully i'll get into the gyn today.

Not the Next Food Network Star

Why on earth does doing a workout video just turn my brain off and all I can think of is Chocolate Frosted Brownies? Duh. Defeating the purpose right? For almost a week straight I can think of nothing else.

Sigh.

Been catching my DVR'ed The Next Food Network Star the past few days. It's brutal. All reality TV is really. I can't stand people talking behind my back, and I don't even know that exists, but it still bothers me. Let alone judges and criticism to your face, on national tv.

I couldn't be on that show either. Chalk it up there with Fear Factor, Survivor, Big Brother, America's Top Model, and a majority of the other reality junkets.

I'm a food lover, a food enjoyer. I can make a few unique dishes that my family loves.

But, i'm not a chef or even a cook. Take tonight for instance. I found a couple of good recipes for Minestrone Soup online. I am craving something of the Olive Garden style italian hot goodness. I go to the store and forget my list as usual and try to remember what I need. Buillion cubes?! Yeah, no idea where those are.

I get home and throw together what I have and pour in my macaroni noodles. Yeah. The end-all of the dish. 2 hours later I have mush. The mush smells lovely, the zucchini is cooked to perfection, but overall it has the consistency of kindergarten paste.

I want chocolate frosted brownies for dinner.

Having lost all desire to come up with something creative, I throw corn dogs in the oven, cut up some cantelope and call it a dinner. Nobody's the wiser. My hubby loves corn dogs thank God. I hate them.

I'm eating a tortilla with butter, pretending it's a brownie.

Kaza's Place had a good meme I wanted to incorporate into my post.

What are the five most important facts about you when it comes to your food and drink in your kitchen?

1. Sugar. Sugar is good. I enjoy it in my coffee (of the Splenda variety). I cut up strawberries and sprinkle it over them. My fave Chili recipe calls for brown sugar and I tell you, it makes the sauce!!

2. Pepper and Garlic Pepper. We douse everything we make in the stuff. It's so delish. Hubby has adapted his dad's salad dressing of vinegar and oil to include tons of pepper and garlic pepper. We add it to our meats when frying them, especially to the italian chicken (our take on cacciatore) sauce. We likes our pepper.

3. Must have white wine on hand. That's a no-brainer. Not to consume with a meal, but to enjoy and enhance laughing ability when watching tv with the Hubby after dinner! Oh and to relax and help us pass out fall asleep too.

4. Peanut butter and tuna are staples in the pantry. We buy them at each and every store visit whether we need it or not. Hubby likes to call it our Earthquake food. Other Earthquake food includes Dinty Moore Beef Stew, Pork and Beans, and bottled water.

5. Granola Bars. We have 3 kids and luckily all three enjoy a granola bar. Costco is our source and we buy the 1 billion pack. They're everywhere, in the car, in the diaper bag, in my purse, on the bedside table. We are granola people (not the birkenstock wearing kind though).

and 6..because when someone says five, i have to be THAT person...
CHOCOLATE...holla! Any form. Frosting, ice cream, brownie, bar, sauce, syrup, candy, cookie, cake, milk, cocoa, dipped cone, mousse, facial...It's all good!

I'll tag you and YOU. You know you wanna chime in!

The Ants Go Marching One by One Hoorah, Hoorah!

Spiders, I can handle. Flies, they're okay. Earwigs not bad...but, ANTS, I cannot stand.

They freak me out.

They are bazillions of them at a time, and during the summer time, they invade our home. I have to address this. Sure they carry their weight on their backs, but if I find them in my Special K, the shit will hit the fan. I wrote a poem, I call this little diddy:

ODE TO OUR ANTS

Black and creepy, crawly and small
I do not like you at all.

You move so fast and in a line
An insect not a favorite of mine.

On the counters on the floors
in the bathroom, inside the drawers.

No real destination, just randomly about
I see you in the shower, curse words I shout!

In the couch cushions and in the hamper
On my day you put a damper.

I spray you with hair spray, try to drown you out
From the spigot you come right out of the spout.

You're in the walls, fearing heat and water
You get squished and yelled at by my littlest daughter.

Hubby sprays but you keep coming back
I'm searching for a better plan of attack.

Crawl down my leg and tickle my feet
Don't ever want to admit defeat.

So the summer begins and I dread to say
The ants are here, they're here to stay.

Please Hold While We Make You Craz(ier)

I hate when mornings start like this!

Just checking my online banking when I come across an error. Not my error, but an error on my health insurance company's bank. My premium was $898. I wrote a check for $898. When the check went through my bank, it was for $298. Wha? How? Huh?

Luckily Yaya works for my bank, so I give her a buzz and she says she'll find out what's going on on their end, but to call the insurance company. I dig out the paperwork from my bill and call the 800 number. The game begins... press 1, say "customer service" and the dreaded please hold all our representatives are busy. So I hold. K needs a diaper change, kids are hungry, cereal falls on the floor, K starts crying, I sit and wait.

Twenty minutes later a chipper CSR takes my call. I explain what's going on, twice because she doesn't 'get it,' and then she says, "can I put you on hold while I investigate?" What if I said NO, you can't i've been smelling my daughter's poop for 20 minutes already, seriously I don't have time for this kind of waiting right now?! Well, I don't. But, I still have this issue to resolve, so "sure" is the answer she gets..and I said it really cranky-like.

I need to change K. I put the phone on speaker and listen to the 45th statement of thank you for holding, we'll be with you shortly and I'm ready to shove the phone into the dirty diaper. Then out of nowhere...CLICK. CLACK. CLICK. The line disconnects. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I quickly redial the 800 number and go through the whole damn process again.

We care about your call, please stay on the line for the next available representative. I kid you not, 25 minutes later I'm ready to snap. The house is falling to pieces around me. You all know what kids do when you're on the phone, they wig out.

I can't wait on the phone any longer. I just can't. I've already gone to the restroom, changed my clothes, changed a stinky diaper, ate breakfast and was ready to strap the damn phone in a Baby Bjorn so I would have use of my two hands!!!

I hung up the phone. Not any sooner did it start ringing. Please let it be that same twit that put me on hold so we could take care of this crap.

Better, it was Yaya! The insurance company's bank was at fault, we have proof. In my online banking, snapshots of the checks are shown and clearly my check is written for the correct amount. Thank goodness. The last thing I need today is cancellation of my health insurance.

Bonus though, I don't have to call them back, who has that kind of time?!

Smile. Say Thank You. Move On.

The RIGHT way to take a compliment:

Friends (3 of them at last night's Bunco): Wow, you look like you've lost weight!
Me: Really? Thanks, i'm trying.

The WRONG way to answer:

Friends: Wow, you look like you've lost weight!
Me: (face contorting in horror) (turning my head back to look if they're talking to someone behind me)...Are you kidding, NO. NO Way. Especially not this week. This is bloated week. I had 4 brownies for dinner last night. Seriously do you want me to show you my muffin top? OMG. Thanks, but really. NO. Nope. Not even close.
Friends: (slowing backing away from me) sorry. we. said. anything.

What is it about me (maybe some of you?) and not being able to take a compliment and go with it. Why must I feel there's an ulterior motive?

(friends huddling to discuss my current state of fat/thin-ness): okay when she comes in, look normal. she's had a tough week. she looks down. the kids were crazy today. she didn't post on her blog. is she okay? casually go up to her and compliment her.

That doesn't happen. Why must I imagine such ridiculousness and just take the dang compliment? True or not.

I have a vision of myself that is anti-Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, very un-blonde, and very SAHM-who eats alot-fullish-figured. Even was I was hot-ish in a bikini (pre children) I always had something to bag on myself for. It's just me. I'm self-concious or just have low self-esteem. Whatever. Will I ever "grow out of it," probably not.

I should just learn to say thank you and move on. Reminding me of our trip to the store the other day, Hubby and I were walking back to the car with our groceries and the bagger pushing the cart. Like always, I ask, "how are you?" and usually get a response of "fine, and you." and that's about it. Well, this girl really needed to talk this particular day.

She replied with, "well....I didn't get much sleep last night because...

[tuned out here to open car, help put bags in, buckle the kids up and start the car]

......and then I had to be at work at 11am this morning and I had just gone to bed at 5am.....

[pulling out of the parking space]

....so when I get to work today I'm totally exhausted......

[home unloading groceries]

.....see you later!!"

Poor thing. Now I know what I sound like.

I Get My Appetite from my "Great" Aunt...

Flo.

Right now, I feel like eating...

-chocolatey, fudgy, hot brownies
-pizza from possibly anywhere
-chips and salsa from La Esperanza in Davis
-mint chip ice cream
...and for dessert, nachos.

It's going to be one of those weeks.

...And an 8oz Foffee in Her Sippy Cup, Please

My baby girl is a "Pipper." She enjoys a more-than-occasional pip of my foffee or tea and it's becoming a strange habit. A habit that is not benefitting me at all. You see when she sips from straws, chances are back-wash will eventually contaminate the remainder of the drink. Since I do have my own habit of drinking hot coffee from a skinny straw, this often applies.

Now, no, I don't allow her to drink my 24 oz. 1/2 regular, 1/2 decaf with 2 Splenda, piping hot. She knows better. I tell her that it's HOT and she understands and proceeds to blow spit on the lid to mimic cooling it down. She gets distracted after that for a while. But, for some reason she has this uncanny sense exactly the moment the drink has cooled to a no-burn level, that's when she swoops in for her pips.

Since the weather has warmed up, I've moved to 20 oz. Iced English Teatime with one Splenda, her favorite. The drama that builds within her 30 lb. frame if I deny her repeatedly is rather scary. She's been known to go into full-boar tantrum mode for caffeine, I think i'm in trouble.

Before you tsk tsk me, her overall intake in any given experience is probably 1oz of liquid. Not much, but the taste for the liquid gold is there. Even if mixed with back-wash.

Oy the Issues

My wine is helping me through this.

My camera is already mad at me. I videoed DQ dancing today and when I replay it in Windows Media Player the music/sound is normal rate but the picture is in slo-mo!? I'm thinking I better upload the camera software pronto.

I'm exhausted though. So were the kids, all 3 were sleeping at 8pm. Snoring actually. It was a long, but fab day!

And...I can only upload 100MB video files to Blogger and Photobucket. This particular video is 161MB.

WOH WOH WOH WOH. Some of you are saying, Is she talking like that teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons?

Here's one pic that was too cute. It was of the big screen during one of the time-outs. The cameras were scanning the crowd and DQ and her team got caught and were SO excited to be dancing with the Spy Girl Cheerleaders/Dance Team. They got to hold their pom-poms too!




















Oh and just an aside. If you don't see me posting for a few consecutive days, check my earthquake widget. It may be because my new island off the CA coast has yet to have internet access.

Cold, White, and Milk-y

I clearly don't understand it. But it's an odd phenomenon in our family.

We are High Maintenance Milk Drinkers.

We buy not one, not two, but 3 different types of milk for our family of five. (Did you see I said 3,4(for),5 right in a row there?! That's pretty weird.) Why, you ask? Because our family is that way. None of us like the same foods or drinks at any one time. It's pure insanity at meal times. I can discuss that pain in the boo-tay for hours as well...another time.

So when DQ was small she started off with vitamin D after formula. Did fine. Pediatrician at the time said she could move to 2% at age 2, and we never looked back. She will not drink any other type.

When My Boy was born he had an intolerance to every type of formula out there. Even that nasty-smelling stuff that charges $24/oz that was supposed to be milk, soy, taste, and gas free. Finally he settled for soy milk and has enjoyed it ever since.

K comes along and we're back to the vitamin D stuff. At her ped appointment, 2% was suggested but not forced. The thing is, K gets diarreah with 2% and does just fine with vit. D. Are you following all this? Frankly, I'm getting a little cramped and gassy just thinking about it.

Now Hubby is happy to drink soy. He is like me, slightly intolerant to dairy. He'll have soy with his cereal or mixes it in pancakes.

I, on the other hand, would rather pour water into my Special K. Soy is gross and not cold enough and looks brown. I'm NOT drinking it. Don't try and make me drink Lactaid either, the name just sounds like milk that needs help.

I like my milk WHITE, COLD, and I want it to taste like MILK! So I drink a little vitamin D with my rare, cereal breakfast. Oh so good. Very refreshing. I can feel my bones strengthening. Then it hits me. Like a ton of bricks. Doubled-over-in-pain. Need I say more, you know where i'm going with this.

Don't Trust a Pinky Swear

Here's the story. A HUGE Lego dragon broke into our house and threw up in our living room. See My Boy's foot in the left bottom corner? He's narrowly escaping the pile of Lego vomit. It almost engulfed him.

So I tell tall tales. But it helps placate me when I see 6 billion little toys over-taking the house.

I want to cry.

Lego tears.



















It never fails. I fall for it everytime.

My Boy--Mom can we get the little Legos down?
Me--As long as you clean them up when your done. I mean YOU not Me, or Me and Dad.
My Boy--Okay, pinky swear.

Let's just say that it was a family "Meen up" last night. And again this morning. And probably later. grumble, grumble.

The Doctor Is IN... (there somewhere)

Am I the only one who feels some visits to the pediatrician are merely Tests of Motherhood?

Can she take being in a crowded waiting room filled with other sick, itchy, crusty-eyed, hacking children besides her own?

Can she keep her shit together while her 7 and 2 year old pinch, poke, annoy, bite, lick, and sniff eachother? no really it was the pediatrician's office, not the vet!

Does her patience wear thin after that one hour, 30 minute-mark hits WITHOUT seeing the doctor?

Can we make her feel inadequate as a parent? Let's intoduce her to the mother of an 18-month old girl who's completely potty-trained and in the 45 minutes they were together, the little girl said, "PEE" twice and they rushed off and went pee.

The answers are No, No, Yes, and What the? YES!

The verdict is My Boy has seasonal asthma brought on by serious allergies, and right now, a sinus infection. Advair, a second Allegra a-day, Prednisone, and Amoxicilin, prescribed in that order.

Our pediatrician and her staff are awesome, don't get me wrong. Plus she gave us the Prednisone and Advair from her sample stash, that's probably a $100 saving right there.

It was a busy day there. It's Friday, I was confining my kids to a 2-inch-square space so we wouldn't catch any of the other crud floatin' around. The potty-trained girl was mocking me, what? diapers? those were so in my 17th month! goo goo ga ga.

My Boy did pick up on something going on with K while we waited. Her hair in pigtails made way for the backs of her ears to be exposed. She has dry, itchy skin back there and it was currently red and inflamed. Add baby sister to the chart. Turns out she doesn't have mommy's psoriasis, just a little touch of cradle cap. Nizoral once a week and hydrocortisone should nip it. I hear that little girl again, cradle cap? that was so in my infancy!

Please don't call a shrink on me, I REALLY DON'T hear 18-month olds chastising me in my head, or chocolate bars calling me from the fridge.

Ooh did someone say chocolate bar? I'd love one.

Manis, Pedis, Cats, and Jewelry

K and I just hung out today, two girls just chillin' on a beautiful spring day. The sun is out, thank you Mother Nature, and it sure feels good. I sat in the back yard reading my new Avon brochure while K be-bopped about and eagerly chased Maggie, our outside cat, around.

Maggie isn't fond of little people. They usually get in the way of her eating, sleeping, and being lazy. The kids just want to cuddle her and pet her, but Mag isn't a cuddler and sheds a LOT when petted, so even I don't do that much.

Mag is an outside cat for a reason. She's pretty skittish around everyone. We've had her for 12+ years and before that she lived with my parents (outside of course). She's a wanderer, an independent soul, and just likes to be left alone. Needless to say, everytime she ran by me, she had that look of "save me from this little person!" But considering I'm not a cat whisperer, maybe she was really saying, "ooh this is fun," who really knows.

When I got to the pages of nail color in the brochure, I looked down at my pathetic toes and decided it was time for a pedicure. I ran and got my bright red polish and gave it my best shot. Then K decided that "playing" with Maggie was a one-sided event, so she sat beside me and awaited her turn.

She got the full treatment, hands and feet. Minus the one sucky-thumb we call Thumbert. We left him unpainted because I worried she'd get some kinda poisoning in her sleep while she sucked. I'm weird and paranoid like that.

Just look at those chubby little sausages we call her fingers!! And, that ball is a bone of contention. She LOVES to carry it around gripped in her palm. In order to get a good photo I pried it out of her little mitt and she was ticked!


















My left big toe is a bit thrashed, but K was constantly trying to grab the brush, touch my toes, or lick the paint off her own fingers....I got a little rushed.


















I'm in the jewelry section of the brochure now and my jaw drops to find something completely annoying!!

Now my mom has a beautiful name...it starts with an "I"....please look below. Do you see an "I" as a choice?




















A B C D E F G H J ?? What the..?

I'm sorry, this is letter I discrimination...do we have a problem with that letter? What about the Iris', Ida's, Imogene's, Iona's and Irene's of the world? Do they not get an initial pendant for mother's day...maybe just socks?

Don't get me started on the Olivia's, Ophelia's, Quinn's, Uyeda's, Wanda's, Winona's, Xyla's, Yolanda's, and Ziva's of the world. Socks for them too?

Now I'm not bagging on just this brochure, I've seen this problem before when shopping for my mom. I tried to be rational about the whole thing..how about "Y" for Yaya (K calls her this). Or possibly "M" for mom? "L" for love? "G" for grandma? I just can't do it..those are all too ambiguous and I can just see her having to explain the pendant to everyone who noticed it wasn't an "I" like it should be.

I think I should start my own jewelry company, specializing in initial pendants. Using only misfit letters of the alphabet! Yeah. Yeah, and I'm going to call it Ivon or Ovon. Yeah, that's it. I'll show them.

Nah, probably not.