My Life With Redheads

Stuff That Punk Says

2012-01-19T19:52:00.001-07:00

After a small disagreement with Grandma Penny he asks, "Are you mad at me Grandma?"
No, I'm not mad. I'm just a little disappointed.
"So Grandma, you should go lie down on your bed, that will make you feel better. And maybe you should have some tea. You should go lie down and have some chamomile tea."

"No mom, that's not the right name. It's Tamaciabacia- lulaala. That's the right name. I'm right, mom"

"When me and my friend are big, we are going to be best friends like brothers, but not really brothers like me and the baby, but really favorite friends. And we are going to live together and be hanging out guys together."

What do you want to be when you grow up?
"Mario from Super Mario Brothers. And then Spiderman. Electric Spiderman."

Ski Bunny

2011-12-06T22:51:00.000-07:00

After getting our season ski passes this past weekend, the munchkin is getting excited to start hitting the slopes. He decided to make sure everything fit properly, and tried his gear on last night just before bedtime.

He never asked about his snow pants. Should I be worried?

He was so excited, there may have even been some ski boot tap dancing going on. Maybe I should be worried.

And some weird ski boot swagger strut thing. Think John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. I mean if John Travolta was 4, half naked and wearing ski boots, that's what he would look like.
Clearly I should be worried.

He knows I'm worried.

Nuggets of Wisdom

2011-12-02T20:05:00.001-07:00

On Marriage:
I dont want to get married mom. Evie at school asked me, but I don't think I want to marry her right now. Because I'm a kid, and you have to be an e-dult to get married.
But I don't want to get married, because I just want to be a Hanging Out Guy.
What does a Hanging Out Guy do?
They just hang out mom.
Do they have jobs?
Their job is to hang out, so I'm going to be one of those guys, OK?

On Being Famous:
I don't need a haircut mom, because if you cut it, then people won't think I'm so cool. If it's long they know I'm a Rock Star. So don't cut it, OK? Because I'm a cool Rock Star.

On Math:
One hundred has a one and a zero, right mom?
No, one hundred has a one and two zeros, the number ten has a one and a zero.
That's not right mom. I'm wicked smart, and that's not right. One hundred has one zero. I'm right mom.
One hundred has a one and two zeros.
Um, that's not right mom, I'm really good at this and that is not right.
Actually it is honey.
Nu-uh mom.
Are you arguing with me?
No mom, I'm not arguing with you, I'm not.
So I'm not arguing, but I'm right, OK?

On Dessert:
Can I have this chocolate, mom?
Sure, you can have it as soon as you eat your dinner.
OK mom, I got it. But can I tell you something? I have a better plan.
How about I eat the chocolate now and then I eat all my dinner. Isn't that a good plan?

Reprimanded

2011-11-19T14:48:00.003-07:00

I have been reprimanded by my little sister who just arrived home for the Thanksgiving break. Apparently people read this silly thing, and would like an update here and there. Damn you people, don't you know I'm incredibly busy over here eating bon bons on the couch and watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills all day long?? Sheesh.

Because I have been so neglectful, I will begin by giving you this:

I'm sure it will come in handy someday if any of you need some blackmail material on me. Or the hubby for that matter. Needless to ay Halloween was AWESOME. How can it not be when one prances around in red spandex for hours? Jack Jack has a bit of a deer in the headlights thing going on, and Dash thought he was really Ironman, or as he says, I Run Man. But it was fun either way. Again, there was spandex, people.

Of course we also had the annual pumpkin carving forced family fun, which was way more fun than forced this year.

The munchkin butchered three gourds while the peanut did his best with a box of crayons and a small puntin. Little Red became an expert ghost story teller thanks to his Grandma Penny, and Marci almost burned the house down. It doesn't get much better than that if you ask me.

It's officially winter here, and we have been taking advantage of the snow. Snowshoeing, sledding, and snowman making, oh my. The littlest man is sleeping as I write this, and the redheads are building something out in the snow. I'm not sure yet exactly what it's going to be yet, as the munchkin has popped his head in the door no less than a dozen times asking me for things like a humongous hat, an Argentina jersey, blocks, a knife, cups and a stick. Let's just pretend they're creative and not strange, OK?

The peanut is growing like a weed, and recently learned to do this very cool trick:

Of course we're so proud.

Other than that, we have just been hanging.

If you got to hang out with these punks everyday you'd be reluctant to spend much time doing much else either.

A Bit Of Extra Cargo

2011-10-23T10:29:00.002-06:00

This adorable little munchkin helped his Papa pack for a recent business trip. He took all the clothes and toiletries set out and put them neatly into all of the compartments within the suitcase. What a helper!

The next day we got this picture message.

Apparently, the munchkin thought it was very important his Papa had his doodle pad and had shoved in into one of the zippered pockets within the suitcase. You know, just in case he happened to have some down time in the hotel and felt the need to sketch a bit, make some notes, write his name, or draw some pictures of ninjas. He also had a dozen or so blocks shoved in with his socks so he could build some stuff if he wanted to.

Such a thoughtful son.

Jello??

2011-10-13T13:53:00.003-06:00

As I was making dinner the other night, the munchkin asked if I had any Jello.

What do you need Jello for honey?

For my hair mom.

Your hair??

Yeah. You know, like Uncle Freddy did to my hair when he was here. I need some more Jello like he had to make it stick up. So mom, do we have any Jello????

It took me a minute, but when I realized he was asking for hair gel and not actually wanting to smear a food product into his hair, I was relieved. Because with Uncle Freddy, you just never know.

Back In The Day

2011-10-04T10:26:00.003-06:00

Me and my three brothers with my beautiful mother circa 1982.

How did she have three more kids after this I 'll never know. Two is hard enough.

That woman, she's amazing.

The Elephant In The Room

2011-09-24T10:39:00.003-06:00

This issue is extremely touchy around here, but I realize it needs to be addressed. I have been tiptoeing around the big redhead for months, hesitant to bring up the subject. Yet as each day goes by, we are all more and more aware that it is not going to do any good to wait it out, as I'm fairly positive time is not going to change the result.

I am talking about the very serious issue of the peanut NOT HAVING RED HAIR.

For the longest time there was so little of it on his head, that seen at certain angles and in specific light, it could have been considered strawberry blonde. The hubby has always referred to both our boys as "my redheads" and no one has done anything to correct this. His own brother is a very light strawberry blonde, so he assumed that was the shade the peanut was going to be. I'm here to say it's not true, there is no color in this kid's hair that can possibly resemble any shade of red. It's blonde, plain and simple. Toe head blonde. White blonde. Blonde, blonde, blonde.

Blonde.

Part of me is sad, as two ginger babies would have been really, really fun. But most of me is secretly SO THRILLED. You see, whenever I imagined myself having kids, they were blonde. I never really thought about it conciously, but when the redheaded munchkin arrived, I realized it was a shock to be holding this tiny creature that looked nothing like me. At all. It was as if I had nothing to do with the making of him in the first place. If I hadn't had actually been there to witness his birth, I wouldn't have picked this kid out of a line up as my own flesh and blood. (Except for the fact that he was a Mini Me of my husband, so of course I would have picked him out). Everyone in my family is or was blonde. I'm blonde, my sisters are all blonde, I have blonde brothers, my mom is blonde. Even my dad and a brother, who have very dark hair, were blonde as a children. I didn't even know I had a mental image of the babies I was to have, but holding that fiery redhead in the hospital, I realized I had been expecting something else. Something that looked like me. He did not, and I was surpirised. Of course I quickly got over any preconcieved notions I thought about my babies to be, and moved on to adoring this kiddo in all his red haired glory.

I mean, really, he is pretty amazing if I do say so myself.

So he is blonde. Very, very, VERY blonde.

And really?

He is pretty amazing if I do say so myself.

So do I change the name of this site? I considered that. But I have decided not to, and for good reason. The munchkin overheard us discussing this and he piped up with his take on the matter, and I've decided he is on to something. How can you argue with such a clever explanation from a three year old?

I sure can't.

"So mom, he DOES have red hair just like me, it's just on the inside. His blond hair is on the outside, but it's red hair on the inside. Look at my hair mom, it's blonde inside, and red on the outside. We have the same hair. Im blonde too and he has red hair like me. Because we're blothers. Do you see my blonde hair mom?? It's right here, look. And right there is his red hair. You just have to look on the inside."

Lucky Girl

2011-09-14T19:25:00.001-06:00

Beacause I get to live here.

Baby Godzilla Lives Here

2011-09-12T16:10:00.003-06:00

It starts peaceful enough, a little boy quietly playing Legos, creating buildings and cities. . .what a relaxing morning.

Admiring his work, telling us all about the special features he spent so long putting together.

Duh dun.

Duh dun!

And in an instant we have no city and lots of tears.

Utopia can turn into the front lines in merely seconds at this house.

Visitors beware.

In The Dog House

2011-09-11T21:39:00.002-06:00

Uncle Freddy, that is. For stealing our kid's affection. He wants nothing to do with us anymore.

It's hard to compete with his Lego skills, I'll admit. . .

Do you know who's playing soccer tomorrow?

Who Papa?

Liverpool! We can watch it together on TV.

I don't like Liverpool, Papa. I like Chelsea best, just like Uncle Freddy.

But I like Liverpool, so you should watch it with me.

But I love Uncle Freddy better, so I can't. We like Chelsea.

Maybe you should move to California and live with Freddy.

Yes!! I want to move to California and live with him!!

Mom, I like you a little. And I like Papa a little. And I like the baby a little. But I like Freddy best.

To Be Three

2011-09-09T22:19:00.001-06:00

The. Coolest. Kid. Ever.

Seen And Heard Part II

2011-09-03T17:46:00.008-06:00

Mom, Legos are really fun, but they're not as fun as Untle Freddy.

I really want to be a Power Ranger. I need a machine to zoom me into the TV so I can do that.

That'a a great picture, you're really good at coloring. I know mom, I'm very talented at art. And all the sports too, like golf.

My lip on the top, its the same as my lip on the bottom. Did you know that's called a resemblance?

When people get old they die, right mom? And Grandma is not old, so she can't die. Is that a deal?

Do you need to go to go potty? You look like you do. No mom, I don't, I really don't have to pee. You know what? I have a big poop in there, but no pee. It's a really big poop in there.

When I was 5, Max and me went to his birthday party and ate all the cake. I know its nobodys birthday today, but can we have a birthday party anyway? Max and I will make the presents and you make the cake with the baby. OK?

Papa, do you want to go in the garage with me and we can make the greatest invention ever??

First Day Of School

2011-08-29T17:26:00.001-06:00

Who is this big guy and what did he do with my munchkin?!

Mmmm Red Vines

2011-08-26T08:39:00.002-06:00

It's hard to tell, but he has a death grip on the red vine he is holding and there is panic in his eyes that I might decide to take that stick of euphoria away. If only I could get that excited about something so simple!

The Marrying Man

2011-08-17T17:04:00.005-06:00

Mommy, when I get big I'm going to marry you.

Really? I don't think so, I'm already married to your Papa.

Well mom, that's not right. Let me tell you. Papa is going to go find a girl, and she will be lost, and he will find her and bring her home and, and then he can marry her and she can live here with us. And the baby will marry someone that's just his size, so she will be little like him and a baby.

So then I can marry you.

The Fam Damily

2011-07-22T09:57:00.005-06:00

The Blothers. I love that the munchkin pronounces "brothers" this way, and I am not doing anything to correct him. Bad Mom.
He's going to be 20 still saying "yo blother!" if I han help it.

A family pic. The peanut looks weird in every picture, and this one is no exception. He looks like a strange little old man.
Good thing I might love strange little old men. This one anyway!

He was a pain in the ass throughout the entire shoot, though I can't really say I blame him. In the past month he has had the flu, a double ear infection (still not gone after 4 rounds of antibiotics), an allergic reaction to amoxocillin, pink eye, and now a bout of roseola. If you look closely you can see some of the rash spots on his cheek, and he is tugging on his ears in most of the photos. Nothing but fun over here.

Poor strange little weird man!

Time Marches On

2011-07-05T22:04:00.006-06:00

June has come and gone in a blink and I'm left to wonder how life is passing me by so quickly. The peanut is crawling all over the place and the munchkin continues to amaze me with his wild imagination, hot temper and unexpected sweetness at every turn. The hubby is continually impressing me with his Papa skills and his ability to make this family unit run smoothly. I mean, how many guys help with diapers and floor mopping without being asked? And my car mysteriously turns up with a full tank of glass more often than not. It really is the little things.

A keeper that one.

Here is a peek at what we have been up to lately.

Celebrating Ruby's 3rd birthday, we realized the munchkin is both cute and strange all at once. It wasn't much of a surprise.

We took a long trip to the lake in Maine. Long hours were spent doing as little as possible.

It was wonderful.

At the lake the boys tried to fish. Later that night when I asked the munchkin what was his favorite part of the day, he said, "When we didn't catch any fish, that was the best one."

Fatboy swam with his Papa and loved every second of it.

Happy boys these two.

First trip to Fenway for the boys.

This redhead decided he would rather sit in the seats across from us and promptly got up and snuggled in next to this older gentleman. He turned to him and introduced himself, offered him some of his popcorn and asked, "What's your name?" My name is Grandpa. Of course it is.

Battling the flu, a double ear infection, pink eye and an allergic reaction to Amoxicillin, we found that the peanut is incredibly resilient. Thank God.

I learned how to make a mean mojito.

And notice the gorgeous ring. . .a Mother's Day gift from hubby. Did I mention he's a keeper?

And don't notice the dirty fingernails, it's the garden's fault.

Father's Day golf with Papa and Popsie.

I'm not sure who had more fun though.

After nine holes he cried that it was time to leave, making his Papa very proud.

We fell in love with Power Rangers, especially the blue Ranger.

And we continued to work on our landscaping, which translates to A LOT of muddy feet and a very happy three year old.

So June is gone. . .in a blink they will be 18 and moving away, so I'm savoring every moment, even the muddy ones.

Or maybe especially the muddy ones.

Seen and Heard

2011-06-06T17:36:00.002-06:00

If you don't play Candyland with me one more time I'm taking you off my list. What list would that be? My birthday list, and so you have to play because you want to come, OK? So let's play, I'll be the green guy.

Mom, he didn't play with me and he broke my feelings.

Guinness is a naughty puppy, right mom?

It's alright mama, I only peed a little in the bath, it's not much so its OK.

Handing me a S'mores he helped make with his Papa: Here you go Mama, it's for you. It's super Power Ranger style.

I don't need dessert Mom, I'll just have the cookie for dinner instead.

Bye Mom, don't come back until the sun goes to bed and then wakes up because I'm having a sleepover at Grandma Penny's! Be gone a long, long time, OK?

Mom, when you were little and I was your dad, I was really taller than you.

I didn't do it Mom, it wasn't me!! It was just my brain cells, so it's not my fault. It's my brain cell's fault.

You know why I'm so fast?? It's because I have slow motion in my belly.

The Gingah Ninja

2011-05-14T11:15:00.001-06:00

Mommy, can I teach you all my 'inja moves? I'm the best 'inja and have to show you how to do it so we can get the bad 'injas and fight them down.

Oh wise grasshopper, thank you for the lesson. I shall use my new powers for good.

Three Going On Sixteen

2011-04-29T07:51:00.002-06:00

Asking the munchkin about his day at school is an attempt in futility most of the time. He blows me off like I imagine a sultry teenager would do, giving me the requisite "nothing" when asked what he did that day. Its very, very annoying to say the least. Thing is, I know what he did that day, the teachers send us a calendar of the daily topics and activities. So when I ask, I usually know what to prompt him with in order to get past the "Nothing." Usually.

What about Volcanos! Did you talk about volcanoes today? How about dinosaurs?? Did Miss Hilary say anything today about dinosaurs??

Not today. After peppering the kiddo with questions that remained unanswered, I still had nothing. Nada.

A little more forceful, I asked more specific questions, " What did Miss Hillary talk to you about during circle time?"

"Mom, she just talked about all the stuff."

Like what?

"Just stuff, Mommy. All the things."

Like, rocks? Did you talk about rocks today?

"Uhhhhh! Mom, no. Not rocks. We talked about plants and uh-cycling, OK? Thats all mom. Then I played with my friends. Can you not ask me anymore chestions mom? Im not mad, but I'm uh-fruster-ated."

Me too, munchkin. Me too.

Oh God

2011-04-24T15:39:00.002-06:00

I'm not a very religious person, choosing most of the time to spend my Sunday's doing anything other that sitting in a church pew. That said, I have found myself in church a few times of late.

We recently celebrated the little peanut's baptism, and his godparents flew in for the dunking and dancing. OK, maybe there wasn't any dancing, but there sure was some dunking. It was icy cold water too, poor guy. Glad it was him and not me, that's for sure.

I snapped this cute photo of the baby in a dress with his Papa, and got to thinking that this photo might come in handy down the line. There may come a time when I need something to blackmail him with, and now I can just whip out the photo of the time he wore a dress and he will have to resign to the fact that I win and have all the power. I was actually thinking I was kind of clever, until I realized he just might be the wrong kid I will need potential embarrassing photographic evidence on.

Sorry munchkin, fair is fair. I don't want any complaints I treated you two any different, now would I?

Or I can just tell the story of today, when during the Easter Sunday mass the priest said something along the lines of

"... and we believe in God..." and you turned to me and said very seriously, "Did he just say Doobie doobie doobie dah?"

Why yes he did, little fellow. Yes he did.

My Little Schnookie

2011-04-20T15:33:00.002-06:00

Schnookie is Grandma Penny's name for him lately, but he is also known as Peanut or Fatboy.
Mostly Fatboy these days. The kid is not what anyone consider to be small.

He has some mad skills, this one. This is much harder than it looks, I dare you to try it. . .

And yes, those eyebrows are most definitely a shade resembling orange, making his Papa very, very happy.

Guess Who?

2011-04-10T06:55:00.003-06:00

I think you'll agree that genetics are a crazy thing, and though it may be obvious to most who is who here, it's still pretty amazing.

Our Hard Earned Preschool Tuition Payments At Work

2011-04-09T08:42:00.003-06:00

Kicking Bunnies

2011-03-25T12:29:00.005-06:00

Parent Teacher conferences for preschool? A sure way to stress out any parent. The nature of the age just begs for some behavioral issues or problems of some sort. I mean, they are preschoolers after all. Their MO is to push boundaries and explore the world around them. And that is just fancy language for not doing what they are told, crying when they don't get what they want and generally being a pain in the ass. You know. . .having a 3 year old.

Or maybe it's just having my MY 3 year old? It's completely possible.

The hubby and I went in to talk to his teachers, and I listened to them say all the positive stuff I knew was coming. He is a delight. He is incredibly smart and social. He knows all of his numbers, colors and most all of the letters in the alphabet. He is amazingly verbal and has a vivid imagination. On and on and on. We know, we live with him. We know he's the shiz-nit.

Then the pause. Oh, the dreadful pause. And this people, is how you put a positive spin on the craziness that is our redheaded munchkin:

He is very good at convincing the other kids not to do their work, he is a leader and they are drawn to him. He often needs to be told to let others have their turn talking during circle time, but he is learning to be patient and participate in the class routine.
And he hasn't kicked the bunny since our last meeting.

We had to stifle giggles the whole way out. He is the youngest child in the school, let alone in his mixed- age class of 3 to 6 year olds, and HE is one of the leaders? He has to be told to please let someone else get a word in edgewise because he isn't quite finished telling you about the "Shala De Dooper 49 Pirate Ship Rocket Jin-Jon" that he and his imaginary friend Max flew around the world earlier that morning? Kicking bunnies??

Yup, that's our kid alright.

A Kiss For Eliza

2011-03-20T21:34:00.004-06:00

For Eliza, who is recovering from a burst appendix.

I hope some kisses from the redhead helps some!

And just for fun, a glimpse of a Wii dancing munchkin just for you.

Sledding and Such

2011-03-14T21:06:00.009-06:00

My older brother, his better half Marci, and the munchkin take a ride down the hill all piled up. The munchkin is obsessed with this brother, and keeps pestering us about having a sleepover at his house (Please come take him, I need a good night of rest). Or camping with him (Um, have you seen the snow?). Or having him over for a quick game of Connect Four (I'm not kidding).

And yes, he is just about the most adorable thing ever.

In case you were wondering.

Ever.

Guinness the Wonder Puppy is no slouch in the adorable category either.

And these redheads? (fingers still crossed it's going to be red!)

Yeah, they make my world go 'round.

Just In Case You Needed Some Cuteness In Your Day

2011-03-10T20:49:00.003-07:00

A few of my favorite things. . .

Happy Babies.

Blothers.

A no, that is not a typo.

Valentines from a three year old.

Guinness the Wonder Puppy.

Bieber Fever?

Recycling

2011-03-08T17:49:00.011-07:00

So where were we? Oh yes, it's March. It's a beautiful sunny day here in the mountains. An epic ski day, though I spent the majority of the day behind a computer screen in a bank talking about interest rates, sweep accounts and jumbo loans. Ugh.

Do you like how I glossed over the fact I've not visited here for nearly a month?

So where were we? Oh yes, just a bit of recycling. Check it out:

Munchkin at 18 months.

Peanut at 5 months.

Munchkin at 14 months.

Peanut at 5 months.

And yes, they are THE EXACT SAME SHIRTS. Not the same shirt in different sizes, but the SAME shirts. Yikes.

Same clothes.

Different babies.

Scared Mama.

The Not-So-Fabulous Mr. Fox

2011-02-10T14:52:00.008-07:00

This may be the funniest meltdown story yet. He has a vivid imagination, I'll give him that!

Grandma Penny was on duty with the kiddos, both of which have "tolds". Runny noses galore. And with all the self-wiping the munchkin does onto any available surface, (shirt, me, sofa, hand, brother, pillows, etc) not only is my house covered in crusty boogs, but his nose and upper lip are getting red and chapped to boot. To help with all this we have been applying tea tree oil, a Vicks Vapor-R-Rub type ointment, under his nose. And its working great except for the small issue of the redhead hating it beyond measure.

He is sitting up at her counter having some lunch, and she notices the telltale parrallel lines of snot starting to run down his face.

She helps wipe his nose.
She gets out the jar of tea tree oil.
He cringes.
She applies.
And then all hell breaks loose.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!!! It's turning my nose into a fox nose!!!!!!!!!! Help 'Nama my nose is turning into a fox's nose! Look, I'm turning into a fox!!! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!" (Also insert, tears, snot, hysteria, snot, crying. . . .)

A fox? What do you mean? You don't have a fox nose. . .

"Ahhhhhhh!!!! Look, it's growing out, it's a fox nose! That stuff made my nose a fox nose! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look honey, it says right here on the jar: DOES NOT TURN NOSES INTO FOX NOSES. See? You're just fine.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! A fox nose!!"

Seriously, who is this kid????????

I'm Show Shorry

2011-02-07T19:00:00.002-07:00

Taking the munchkin to school the other morning, he asked for my phone to call his 'Nama Penny. I dialed the number, hit speaker phone and handed it back to the little man in the car seat. They chatted for a second, and mid sentence and for no reason whatsoever, the kid hits END CALL.

I give him "the look" in the rearview mirror.

"I'm show shorry Mama."

"You shouldn't hang up on people" I said, "It's not very nice."

"I'm show shorry Mama."

No answer from me.

"You know Mama, I can hang up on people because the rules say I can do that. See? They say right here. Joey, you can hang up on all the people and it's not mean." (holding up is palm, aka the Holy Tablet of Joey Rules)

No answer from me.

"And Mama, I said show shorry so it's fine and you can't be mad."

No answer from me.

"Mama, do you understand me??"

Me?

There may have been snot bubbles.

The Meaning Of Life

2011-01-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

Is this.

Oh My Poor Neglected Blog

2011-01-08T20:45:00.015-07:00

So I kind of feel like this.
Which is why you have been neglected.
Please forgive me.
And know it will surely happen again.
Probably sooner than later.

It's mainly because of this little peanut.

Though this one doesn't exactly contribute to a life of leisure.

Throw in the holidays and a few birthday celebrations, which didn't give me any extra time to hang out with my computer and hundreds of unedited photos.

How is he three already?????!!!!

The drum set Santa brought for the little redhead hasn't helped either. It hasn't been what anyone would refer to as quiet around here.

And my sisters were back from their respective colleges and we had lots of catching up to do.

Add to that a full time job and exclusive breastfeeding for my bottle hating bundle of joy, and I sometimes wish someone would do this to me.

Or at least let me do this for a few extra minutes.

No? Not going to happen?

That's OK.

I happen to like my crazy life just the way it is.

Baby It's Cold Outside

2010-12-01T17:55:00.000-07:00

I Wanna Be A Rockstar

2010-11-28T18:23:00.003-07:00

I know, he is SO going to kill me someday.

Ridiculousness. Is That A Word?

2010-11-28T15:51:00.002-07:00

For all those who think I exaggerate. I don't.

Turkey Day 2010

2010-11-27T11:43:00.018-07:00

Thanksgiving 2010: The Highlights

Princess Rachie came home. The munchkin was in heaven.

Then Auntie Wobyn came home. The munchkin has not noticed the existence of anyone else since. She leaves on Monday. I love you to bits sis, but I'm looking forward to seeing my kid again.

Then there was the Preparation of the Feast. We had so much fun planning and cooking, I'm already looking forward to the next one.

This is my huge stock pot. Full of bread for ONE of the types of stuffing. You might say we overdid it on the food.

I love it when we overdo it on the food.

The beautiful brine for the roasted turkey. We also deep fried two more. Again with the overdoing it thing. Thanks to Uncle Dan who oversaw the deep fryer and did not burn my house down. Great job!

Pies.

And more pies.

The munchkin helped Nicole with the rolls. Maybe help isn't the right word exactly. . .

See for yourself.

Nick cut potatoes.

And everyone else pitched in while Rachael texted away. . .

Just kidding! She actually made the favorite of the day- pumpkin bread pudding with rum sauce and homemade pumpkin spice ice cream. A wow dish.

Really, everyone helped and brought delicious things to eat.

And then came all the family, friends and feasting! Birds, stuffings, taters, green beans, yams, brussells sprouts, creamed onions, hot rolls, gravy, cranberry, pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, cheesecake, bread pudding, ice cream, wine, oh my!

And Thursday was followed up the next evening by Thanksgiving 2.0: Make A Dent In The Leftovers. It was somewhat successful, but we will be having leftovers for many more days yet. Thank goodness!

Happy Turkey Day!

Hilarity At The Theater

2010-11-19T09:20:00.004-07:00

A few nights ago we went to a small children's theater performance of Cinderella. Grandma Penny thought the munchkin would like it, and boy was she right. He was riveted watching the kids dance and sing, which shouldn't have suprised me because it was kind of like a huge, life-sized television show-- and we know how much that kiddo loves his TV time!

Except TV these days is so interactive with the kids shows, he may have been a little confused. He didn't get the memo that you're not supposed to talk back to the cast during the show, and that when they ask questions to each other as part of the script, they are not speaking to you individually. Even though they may be looking right at you. Yeah, he didn't quite grasp that.

And who can blame him? Dora wants you to get up and jump with her in order to get to the other side of that pond, Special Agent Oso asks questions and expects the audience to answer him, and please don't get me started on The Upside Down Show and that damn remote control. Let's just say that the munchkin has tried to rewind and pause me more than a few times.

So when Cinderella's wicked stepmother was berating her about scrubbing the floors and folding the laundry, finishing her speech with, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME???", the cast and fellow audience members were probably surprised to hear my munchkin loudly pipe up from his seat, "YES!!!!!!!!!"

And when the lights came up at intermission and the loudspeaker came on letting us know we had 15 minutes before the play resumed, it was my little redhead who yelled back up to the ceiling to no one in particular, "OK!!!!!"

My Little Peanut

2010-11-18T14:05:00.002-07:00

Awwww. . .

I love my boys.

Those Damn Flies!!!!

2010-11-15T11:10:00.003-07:00

Driving with the munchkin and little peanut in the car this morning on the way to Grandma Penny's house, the munchkin was talking up a storm, mostly to himself. I was guiltily humming along to Christmas music. I know, it's not yet Thanksgiving and its already everywhere. I WANT to turn the radio station to something else, but am finding it very, very difficult to do so. I know, I'm a big dork. It can't be helped, I like Christmas music.
Even when it's not Christmas. There, I said it.

But I digress. I noticed the munchkin kept saying things like, I hate this, or I hate that. . .
So I took the opportunity to do some parenting. I told him we don't HATE anything. Maybe there are some things we don't like, things that bug us, but we don't say hate. Hate is not a nice word. Blah, blah, blah, you get the idea. And feeling like a good parent, I turned up the vloume to "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" with a smug grin.

About a minute later, the munchkins says, "But Mama, you hate flies. You said you hate flies all the day. You say, I HATE FLIES!!. Like that, Mama. And 'Nama hates dog hairs. She told me. Mama, I hate flies too."

I turned the radio station to something else.

Puntins and Such

2010-11-05T15:09:00.010-06:00

Puntin carving time again! I know I'm a week late posting this, but really, we're lucky it's up before Turkey Day.

All that free time I have right now and all.

It's not my fault. It's their fault. Specifically the little peanut's fault. He is the ultimate sucker of free time. And thank goodness for suckers of free time!

We took the munchkin to the Pumpkin Patch to pick out some puntins for carving. The local nursery had set up a maze lined with pumpkins and all sorts of Halloween paraphenalia. But it SNOWED the night before, so the pumpkins were mostly covered up.

It was an adorable set up, and the little man had a great time walking around in the maze (read: jumping off as many hay bales as possible).

So many to choose from!

Maybe this one?

The final three contestants. Decisions, decisions.

And then over to Grandma Penny's to hack them apart!

We tried to have a family game of scrabble ongoing throughout the evening. . .

sounds like a good idea. . .

But this is what happens when the munchkin gets a hold of scrabble tiles.
He won, by the way. Or so he claims.

And don't forget the usual game of child-toss. It's a family favorite 'round these parts!

Happy Halloween!!!! (a week late)

My Little Fashionista

2010-10-20T14:20:00.003-06:00

So he can dress himself. He's been able to for a while now, but lately the "I can do it all myself" has started to really mean, "don't you dare even think about helping me do this or I will throw the biggest tantrum you have ever seen, and you know I mean it!"

I'm one to choose my battles carefully, so for the recent 20 clothing changes a day, I for the most part let it go. I put my foot down at going to school dressed in swim trunks and a 4 x too large dirty soccer shirt with mismatched crocs. And that tantrum? He really does mean it.

That's OK though, I won in the end. Kiddo, I will always win in the end, best to learn that sooner than later.

Swim trunks and rash guard, or as he insisted, PAJAMAS.

For a trip to the grocery store, lucky me.

"Red Guy."

Notice a collection of dirty diapers and an empty wine glass in the background. Whatever gets me through it, right?

Right.

Who knows. It wasn't bedtime though.

"Look Mama, the tag is in the front!"

"Rock Star Blue Guy" complete with air guitar.

"Camping Clothes", and no, we weren't going camping.

A gift from the Patrick's. He wears it everywhere, but doesn't want to for Halloween. How I'm going to explain this one to curious onlookers at the post office in December I have no idea.

I think "HE'S TWO" should clear everything up.

Fall. Blink And You'll Miss It

2010-10-06T14:57:00.005-06:00

We had dinner on our patio the other night with friends, and the sunset was absolutely beautiful. It finally feels like fall, and since I know we probably only have a few weeks of it before winter comes at us we are trying to make the most of the evenings outside. Fall is my favorite season, but high up in the mountains here we rarely get more that a glimpse of it. Scorching summer briefly pauses and turns into a blizzardy winter.

And with winter comes VERY early evenings, as it will get dark here around 5:00. Two boys and having to be indoors most of the day seems a bit daunting to me. The littlest one isn't much of a handful yet, but that two year old certainly keeps us on our toes.

For instance, watching Two And A Half Men:

Me: "Honey, we should probably turn the channel, the munchkin isn't watching, but he's in the room and will hear it and start to repeat everything."

Munchkin: "Don't turn it, I won't repeat everything!"

Honey: "Click."

On An Emotional Roller Coaster

2010-09-30T13:41:00.008-06:00

The munchkin has had a rough few weeks. First, he has a new baby brother who has diverted some of the attention from him. And though he likes him a lot, the kid is kind of emotional. OK, "kind of" is putting it mildly. The kid is a professional whiner right now. Falling apart when given a glass of water in the wrong color cup kind of emotional. Flinging himself onto the floor in tears when asked to please flush his poop down the toilet while yelling, "It's not my favorite!!"

Well kiddo, it's not my favorite either, so get in there and flush those away please, you stink.

And then he took a digger on the cement running. He was very brave, but it's definitely going to leave a mark.

Poor guy, he is getting lots of extra hugs and kisses, so hopefully this phase goes quickly away into oblivion. In the meantime, we are dealing.

For example, when I asked him to please bring his plate into the kitchen after he had eaten a snack and he melted into a puddle on the floor, I let it go. His teary response that I was taking away his steering wheel and he really needed it to drive his boat to China to pick up Manet, Max and Minnimo (yes, Max is a new addition). . . well who can argue with that anyway? I sure don't have the energy to right now. Happy sailing.

This little guy makes it a little easier to cope.

He's pretty much an angel. He sleeps.

I was thinking of writing down all the reasons why he is an angel into a list here, but really, it pretty much boils down to HE SLEEPS. Unlike the older redheaded terror, who didn't find it in his heart to sleep for more than 30 minutes at a stretch until he was 18 months old, this munchkin sleeps hours at a time. Yes, HOURS.

So. . .angel.

An angel with abnormally large feet for his tiny body. Weirdo, but we'll keep him!

Look What We Made!

2010-09-23T09:40:00.003-06:00

He arrived on Friday, weighing in at just under 8 lbs. Healthy and pretty much perfect.

And although I'm a huge advocate of epidurals and drugs that make having a baby easier, this munchkin was delivered without. Not by choice mind you, he just could wait long enough for that damn anesthesiologist to get in there. I actually had to apologize to my mom for the obscenities that followed that announcement. I've always said there are no awards given out after you have a baby, and how you get from point A to point B doesn't matter, all that counts is a healthy baby.

I've changed my mind. There should most definitely be awards.

With my older brother, with whom he shares a name.

One munchkin checking out another. . .he thinks he likes him.

Yeah, I think this is all going to be. . .perfect.

Crazing?

2010-09-09T13:12:00.007-06:00

The three of us driving home last night:

"So, O-tay guys, so. . .I want to tell you something, " says the munchkin from his carseat.
"What do you want to tell us, honey?" I ask.
"Well. So. Wouldn't it be tool IF, when we det home we tan all play BAND todether!"

The munchkin's Papa then starts singing and making guitar playing noises.

"No, Papa, not yet!! So. Lemme tell you. . ."
More siging and guitar playing noises from the driver.
"Papa!!!!! Did you hear what I said? So, O-tay, so. .. "
More singing and some air guitar being strummed.

"Papa, you are crazing me!!!"

Munchkin Rock

2010-09-05T09:57:00.003-06:00

We went to an end of the summer BBQ at a friend's house last night. These friends happen to have a room with band equipment, which is the surest way to the munchkin's heart these days. Drums, guitars, keyboards, microphones, AMPS. He was in heaven. Thank goodness I thought to put his Wii guitar in the car, the thought of him breaking one of the dozens of guitars there would have wrecked my night. Once a improv group started playing around, they were tolerant enough to let our little guy join in. We had to peel him away, kicking and screaming, close to 11:00pm. He sobbed the entire way home, pleading with us to take him back so he could "rock out with the band."

Our friends said he was welcome to come over whenever he wanted to play. I have a feeling they are going to live to regret that offer!

Chubby

2010-08-30T14:30:00.003-06:00

I had to take my wedding bands off the other day, as they were cutting off the circulation to my ring finger. The indentation marks they had made took more then two days disappear.

Chubby, swollen hands and fingers, yet another lovely side effect of pregnancy. I don't even recognize my own hand in this picture. I have man hands people!

Just be thankful I didn't show you the stretch marks on my hips.

Yet.

I Have A Preschooler? Huh??

2010-08-27T08:48:00.001-06:00

Yesterday was "Back To School Day" at the munchkin's new preschool, where he will be going 2 mornings a week starting next Tuesday. We got to go for a few hours to meet the teachers and check out his classroom, meet the other kids and parents, find his cubby and the toilet, try out the playground slide, intoduce ourselves to the classroom pets Sally the Salamander and some -parrot-who's-name-I-can't-remember . Very important matters.

And now?
Oh my I feel old.
I have a child.
And that child is starting school.

WHAT happened? Aren't I still 25 and still out having a good time being irresponsible? Apparently not. I can't even fake that I'm young and carefree anymore, what with this body that is about to give birth to another small human any day now. Mother of 2 kids. Wow, that is scary. I'm too young for this, didn't I just graduate from high school??

Oh yeah, that was like 17 years ago, dummy.

The Hogger Of The Bed

2010-08-19T13:13:00.020-06:00

I woke a few mornings ago feeling exceptionally unrested. Which was no surprise, as that's an expected part of my life right now being as I'm 35 weeks pregnant, and getting comfortable enough to fall asleep for anything considered a long strectch of time isn't entirely easy. But this was even worse than usual. When I got out of bed and happened to take a look back, this is the sight that greeted my tired eyes.

And no, I'm not looking at my cutie kid or the handsome man I married. See those 5 inches of available mattress real estate? That's what caught and held my attention. No wonder I'm uncomfortable and not sleeping well! And yes, this large amount of belly I'm carting around needs a whole hell of a lot more than 5 measly inches. And though it doesn't look like it in these pictures, it is indeed a KING SIZED BED. There should be plenty of room for all of us.

I'm happy he's content and comfortable and all, but really, it didn't do much to stop me from sleepwalking through my day. Something must be done. I just don't know what that something is yet. Maybe we should start by giving him lessons on the finer points of pillow use. As in, IT'S WHERE YOU'RE HEAD GOES.

Why I No Longer Need Coffee In The Morning

2010-08-11T09:03:00.007-06:00

The little man woke up this morning just as I was getting ready to blow dry my hair. He came running into my bathroom talking a mile a minute, but when I picked him up to kiss him good morning, he abrubtly stopped speaking and touched my wet hair. And then commenced talking a mile a minute again:

"Oh mama I need to take a shower too my hair is really dirty but I need to take a shower all by myself because you took a shower all by yourself and my hair is really dirty and I need to make it wet like yours because its really dirty I can use the soap all by myself and can you take off this shirt oh I can do it myself can I take a shower mom I need to take a shower all by myself because my hair is dirty."

Why Google Should No Be Used To Diagnose Medical Problems

2010-08-10T09:40:00.011-06:00

But we all do it, right? Maybe not again for me for a while.

Probably too much information, so if you don't want to hear me complaining about pregnancy related, um, pains down there- then you should stop reading. Now.

I'm reaching the end of this pregnancy (hallelujah!), and for the past month I have had some mildly to somewhat uncomfortable pain in my pelvic area. Like I went for a really long bike ride or decided to cross the desert on horseback. Or maybe my husband just kicked me really hard in the crotch while sleeping. Whatever the cause (I blame the husband), it hurts. Bad.
And it's getting worse. These past few days it has gotten so severe I feel like I can barely walk. And standing up, bending down or rolling over- forget about it, not an option unless you want to hear me cry.
The pain kept me up most of the night last night, as I am 34 weeks preggo, huge, and it's hard to get comfortable-- hence I roll over a lot (see above, rolling over is not an option). So what do I do? I did what any sensible person in 2010 would do, I got up and turned on my computer. Since I've never had this type of pain before, something must be wrong, and only one thing can answer all my pressing concerns instantly. Google.

Here's the short list of what Google told me was going on:

Call your doctor immediately, you are going into premature labor.
The pain is your body's way of preparing for the baby, do not be concerned.
Go to the ER, there is a good chance your baby is under severe distress.
Your pelvic bones are seperating.
You are going into labor, call your doctor to stop the contractions as your baby is in danger.
Your muscles down there cannot handle the pressure of the baby and are giving out, be ready for delivery soon!
This pain is normal, the baby has dropped and is knocking on the door.
You have a condition known as Symphisis Pubis Dysfunction.
You probably have Lyme Disease.

So then I turned off my computer and freaked out. Then went back to bed. Then rolled over a few times and cried from the pain. Then I fell asleep and dreamed of pelvic bones painfully separating. Then I woke up and yelled at my husband for kicking me in the crotch. Again.

But really, I'm probably just fine, but I'm not ruling out Lyme disease just yet.

Retars and Imaginary Friends

2010-08-02T13:41:00.002-06:00

We have always tried to speak somewhat properly to the little man, so that he learns to speak properly himself. No baby talk, no babbling, and when he mispronounces things, I usually repeat them back to him correctly. It's working, the munchkin has a great vocabulary and can carry on pretty detailed conversatons with us, which are utterly hilarious. Or with himself, which I sometimes need to leave the room for so he doesn't get a complex about his parents laughing and pointing at him. Or with his imaginary friends, Mannay and Minnimo. Or maybe it's Manet, I'm not exactly sure how it's spelled. He must be French or something, non?

But there are some things he says that are just so cute, I couldn't imagine correcting him and letting him believe it should be said any other way. Here are just a few of my favorites he blurted out this week that I hope stay with us for a good long while.

"Mama, let's sneak up on Papa, 'tum on, let's tip tac toe. . ."(cue adorable sneaking and tip toeing)

"I'm big now, Mama. I need to raze like Papa." (shaving with a razor apparently equals "razing")

"I cant find my retar!!!" (Wii Guitar). We do a lot of retar playing around here, whether its the actual Wii guitar, a golf club, a tennis racquet, a drum stick or a stuffed animal.

In other news, I'm enormous.

Hanging On

2010-07-23T21:10:00.002-06:00

After a very long and exhausting work week, I am really looking forward to an uneventful weekend doing as little as possible. Of course "not doing much" is a relative term, as this 2 year old I live with is somewhat high energy. "Somewhat" also being a relative term. And "high energy" also being code for "crazy".

Does it make me a bad parent when I walk past my bedroom and think to myself, "Only three more hours and I get to lie down on that bed?"

Maybe it's the 90 degree heat, maybe it's because I am enormously pregnant, maybe it's because long hours in an office makes my body ache. Whatever the reason, I am tired. And since the big redhead is out of town this weekend, I have no one to complain to, which he listens to without too much eye rolling. Or to take over all parental duties so I can close my eyes for a while, because he's good like that.

I think I'm on my own for now, so I better run. The munchkin is yelling for me down the hall, something about needing help off the toilet so he doesn't squish his balls.

Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up.

Sake

2010-07-21T09:01:00.000-06:00

The Baby B, B Dog, Sake B, Bomber. . .you will be missed so much.

Summah Vacation

2010-07-16T11:07:00.015-06:00

It's so hard returning to real life when I've been here for over a week. We jetted off just before the big July 4th holiday weekend to summah on a beautiul lake in Maine for a much needed, nearly two week vacation. The lake was so realxing and absolutely beautiful.

Oh yeah, the beautiful house on the beautiful lake didn't suck either. It was pretty tough roughing it as much as we did, but don't worry, somehow we made it work.

Boat rides.

Gorgeous views.

Campfires and friends.

Sunsets.

And ice cream boats that drive right up to your dock!

And now back to the office complete with pearls and heels, housework, child care and the we're-having-a-baby! countdown. You know, that thing they call life.

Which turns out, is even better after a great vacation.

Instinct At It's Best

2010-06-28T09:04:00.004-06:00

Such a boy. It must be because the World Cup is on, maybe there something about a boy watching anything relating to sports that makes the boy brain send out homing signals to the rest of his body. I'm sure it's something very scientific, but it boils down to something like, OOOOH SPORTS. . . .PUT HAND. . .DOWN PANTS. . .GET COLD BEVERAGE. . .OOOOH SPORTS. . .PUT HAND DOWN PANTS.

Who Plays The Banjo Anyway?

2010-06-17T13:32:00.001-06:00

We went to an outdoor concert last night in an absolutely beautiful setting, Red Butte Gardens in Salt Lake City. It could have been even more beautiful, if it hadn't been raining and windy and cold, but still. It was beautiful nonetheless. The cushy VIP seating under shelter didn't hurt (thanks Chris!). The complimentary umbrellas were nice. The company was outstanding. And the wine and cheese sealed the deal. I officially had a really, really good time.
I absolutely love this venue, but honsetly, I'll admit I wasn't overly thrilled to see the show. I was taking a client, his wife and another couple, and this was the show they had requested to see. So there I was with bells on, dragging the hubby with me. Someone has to schlep all the stuff, after all.
I love music, I love outdoor concerts, I love eating al fresco under the stars, especially when it includes cheese and wine. But I am not a particular fan of the banjo. Or more accurately, I have never before contemplated whether or not I was a fan of the banjo. My life was banjo-less, and I was fine with that.
Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin) and the Steep Canyon Rangers were on the menu last night, and man oh man can that guy play the banjo. Not that I've ever heard anyone play a banjo before and have absolutely nothing to compare it to, but I'm pretty sure this guy is good. And utterly hilarious, as expected. The stand up bits in between songs was well worth the price of admission (if I would have actually had to pay--thanks Chris!!). The bluegrassy (is that even a word?) music was so good, I may now be a Steep Canyon Ranger fan, fiddles and all. And really people, with songs with titles like Athiests Don't Have No Songs, how could we have had a bad time? So? Banjo music? I'm not exactly running out to buy you, but. . .nice job!

He's Mine and I Love Him

2010-06-04T16:10:00.003-06:00

Hubby texted me this picture early this morning after I had left for work. The caption?

He's Your Child.

I guess he was refusing to take responsibility for this.
That's OK, I'll gladly take it.

On Being Pregnant

2010-06-03T12:29:00.005-06:00

I'm officially 24 weeks pregnant today.

This is a good thing, as I'm past the halfway mark, out of the yucky first trimester with all its really fun aches and pains and sickness and bloating and utter exhaustion and sickness. There was a lot of sickness.
Good news, right?

Wrong, because I don't paticularly like the second trimester all that much either. The constant queasiness is gone, and I do have a bit more energy, but for every symptom I seem to get rid of, I just get to add more to the list. Things like awful back pain and searing heartburn. Swollen fingers and, oh yeah, LOTS OF WEIGHT.

I'm obviously not one of those people who will tell you they love being pregnant, all happy and glowy and don't-actually-look-pregnant-if-you see-them-from-behind types. That's not me. No way.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy to be pregnant, and very thankful that it was fairly easy to get myself into this state, and so far without any complicatons whatsoever. Believe me, I know how lucky I am, I really do. But although I'm happy to be here, it's more of a looking forward to finishing the race than enjoying the race while its happening. And that glow? Yeah, thats just the extra 10 pounds of blood I'm carrying around. My cheeks may be rosy, but you should see the veins in my legs. Not so glowy.

The second trimester may be the best part of pregnancy, but it's got nothing on not being pregnant at all. Come on kiddo, we can't wait to meet you! And your mama can't wait to wear pants that have zippers again!

Tina The Ballerina

2010-05-27T09:50:00.001-06:00

I had this record growing up and remember putting on "shows" for family and twirling around the house in my white tutu with gold sparkles. Where the record or the tutu disappeared to I have no idea, and I honestly haven't thought of them for years and years.

I had a strange dream the other night that I can't quite remember, but it somehow involved Tina the Ballerina, and for the rest of the day I had the story lyrics and songs stuck in my head. I probably haven't heard this record for over 20 years, and yet I remembered every line and song. I remembered all the dance routines I made up, and all the jumping and spinning I did to the sound of this record.

No joke, a day later I got an email from my dad that said, "Tina the Ballerina. . .do you know the lyrics?"

Now that was weird. Really weird. Weird enough that he's asking IN THE FIRST PLACE, but stranger still so close on the heels of my Tina dream. He had heard a snippet of it somewhere, and it was then stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember all the words exactly. I must have played this record A LOT. Sorry for that, daddy.

But yes, I remember all the lyrics. All of them.

"Wait sir, I can dance in her place!"

"But you are sch a little girl. . ."

Within the hour I had purchased this record on Ebay for a whopping $4.00. I can't wait to hear it again. . .just need to rustle me up a record player!

Julia's French Apple Tart

2010-05-25T13:17:00.017-06:00

I had a disc of leftover pie crust from a Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie attempt last week that was calling my name from the freezer. I pulled it out and grabbed a few cookbooks for inspiration and found a beautiful photograph of this french apple tart. I knew immediately I had to make it.

And even though hubby doesn't like fruit pies of any kind (it's a definite character flaw, don't you think?) I decided between Robyn, the munckin and I, we couldn't possibly let it go to waste.

This recipe is from one of my most used cookbooks, Baking With Julia. It's my go to for pretty much any baked good. I often adapt her recipies slightly, adding or subtracting things on a whim, but these recipies are always my jumping off point for baked goods. Julia will not steer you wrong, people.

The most ineteresting thing about this recipe was that it had a layer of apple compote topped with fresh sliced apples, definitely not your usual apple pie. It also called for fresh bread crumbs in the compote mixture, which I thought was strange. I almost left them out, and am so glad I didn't. Don't leave them out, bad things may happen.

I was supposed to bake the apple mixture in the oven for 25 minutes until they "threw their juices" and formed a sauce. Neither of these things happened. No juices to speak of and the apples were looking sad and dry to me. After nearly 40 minutes I tossed the whole mess into a dutch oven, added some cider and cooked them down for about 5 minutes. Perfect. I was tempted to just serve this concoction by itself, it was that good!

But since I had gone to the trouble of having the hubby stop and buy me all those apples, I figured I should finish what I started.

Melted butter. It just makes everything better.

Be-uty-ful!

This is all that was left by this morning, so I think this one is a keeper, n'est pas?

Just for you Leah Beah:

French Apple Tart

adapted from Julia Child's Baking With Julia

Flaky Pie Dough

Use your favorite recipe, as I'm no expert. I had leftover dough from Smitten Kitchen's Strawberry Rhubarb Pie recipe, which was delicious and will be made for all sorts of pie crust recipes in my kitchen going forward. You will need enough enough to roll out an 1/8 inch thick and that will fit into a 9 inch fluted tart pan with removable bottom.

Apple Compote

6 Granny Smith Apples

3/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon flour

Pinch of cinnamon

1/2 cup fresh, fluffy bread crumbs

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Topping

3 Granny Smith apples

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 teaspoons granulated sugar

powdered sugar for dusting

Roll out the dough and fit it into the tart pan, gently pressing the sides and forming a small ledge at the top edge of the pan. Cover with parchment and fill with beans or pie weights. Bake for about 20 minutes at 400 degrees. Let cool completely.

Peel and core the first 6 apples, then cut them into 1/8 in thick slices. Toss them with the remaining filling ingredients and bake them on a half sheet pan in the oven at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. They should get juicy and very soft, but if yours didn't cooperate like mine, toss them into a sauce pan with a bit of water or apple juice, and cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Mash with a spoon, they should be very chunky. Try not to eat all the filling straight out of the pan before it makes its way into the baked pie shell. Smooth out the compote in the tart pan.

Peel and core the remaining apples and cut them into 1/4 inch slices. Toss them in a bowl with the lemon juice. Starting from the outside, arrange the apples in an overlapping pattern. Pack them in tightly, they shrink when cooked. Brush with melted butter and sprinkle with the granulated sugar. Bake on a half sheet pan at 375 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes. The apples will be easily pierced and the edges black.

Let the tart cool before cutting into it. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and get ready for some raves. Ice cream doesn't hurt either.

The House

2010-05-22T11:20:00.019-06:00

I keep promising pictures of the inside of our new house, but every time I have a spare moment to snap a few photos, I quickly realize that our digs are not quite photo ready. You know, a sink full of dirty dishes, a huge pile of unfolded laundry, muddy dog prints zig zagging down the hallway. OK, so maybe this is my everyday and unmade beds are just how we roll the majority of the time, but I'm not about to admit that publicly and freeze the mess in time for all to see.

Weekends are a little better. We usually make some time to pick up the strewn toys and get rid of whatever is stinking up the fridge. The floors might get mopped and cookie crumbs vacuumed up, maybe even the fingerprints get wiped off the fridge and the munchkin's toothpaste scraped off the sink. Maybe.

Pay no attention to the pink scooter in my living room. . .long story.

And since this happened to be one of those clean up the house weekend mornings, I thought I would go ahead and record it, because who am I kidding? This is as good as it gets most of the time. It helped that it snowed last night and it was a rainy, dismal mess when we woke up. We didn't feel like running off to the pool or park or anywhere at all for that matter. We stayed in our jammies way past the time when jammies are appropriate and watched cartoons and ate sugary cereal on the couch. A perfect Saturday morning in my opinion.

I told myself I would hold off on photos until the paint touch ups were done, or the blinds were installed, or the backsplash put up. But honestly? With our schedules that could take months, and pictures if the new house wouldn't be so new anymore. So here it is.

Most of it anyway, I'm not in that much of a cleaning mood. There are rooms and spaces behind closed doors that will just have to wait. Because as much as I love my closet space, you really don't want to see what's back there just quite yet.

Down that hall? That's the mud room and laundry room, and no, you don't get to go down there today.

You can have a peek into the kitchen though, I kinda like it in here.

He went and got his camera too, and is following me around snapping away.

A place for all my cookbooks.

The pantry is also a favorite. Finally! A Place for everything.

Hi Mama. Want to play trains?

I sure do!

This is probably my favorite room in the house. There is just something about all white bathrooms that make me happy.

Really, really

happy.

And even though the bed is unmade half the time, we love this room too.

Just ask this kid, he'll tell you.

It's a perfect house for us, and we are so happy to be here!

Our Garden

2010-05-19T15:08:00.009-06:00

OK, it's not much of a garden YET. It will be. Maybe. I hope. That is if I don't kill everything first. I've wanted to build some rasied vegetable gardens for a while now, and after the recent (and short lived) break in the nasty weather, hubby was kind enough to throw one together for me to experiment with. He's good like that.

And by the way, how cute is the mini munchkin- sized wheelbarrow?

I started with some peat moss and organic compost, and mixed it together with the dirt that was already there, which I think is pretty good. But what do I know, I can't even keep an ivy plant alive. This is definitely a trial and error process for me, and though I am hoping that my thumb is not completely black, I know it is absolutely no shade that could be called a true green. Maybe an ugly shade of teal? I might be pushing my luck with even that, so please remember to cross you're fingers for me. I think I'll need it.

But not to worry too much, I have called in some reinforcements, both to help with the maintenance if for any reason I decide to jet off on a holiday, but also to share the bounty (if there happens to be one), and also for their expertise, which I really, really need.

Nicole, who has a wealth of gardening knowledge and her mother's number on speed dial.

She brought along her new puppy Watson to help out too, he was very helpful.

My mother, who has beautiful gardens and can grow anything. She also knows what actually has a chance up here in the mountains.

And the munchkin of course. It always a good idea to have someone I can boss around. That's why we have kids, right? And the adorable dogs are supposed to be on the lookout for rabbits. We have lots of abnormally large rabbits out there. I'm not afraid to say they scare me a little bit.

We started with an herb garden. I heard it's hard to kill thyme, I'm hoping that was true. Tell me that's true please.

We also planted some tarragon, parsley, chives, rosemary, sage, mint, lavendar, garlic and bunching onions. I will admit I had no idea what a bunching onion was, but as I cook with onions almost daily, I wasn't too concerned what species I was buying-- I just wanted lots.

Come to find out bunching onions are no more than green onions. Or scallions. Or spring onions.

I rarely use them and now have more than I will ever want or need. Why are there so many names for them? This making stuff grow thing is hard enough without confusing me with multiple names for each plant. So if you need some scallionsbunchinggreenspringonions, I'm your gal. Or if you have some great recipies that require lots of scallionsbunchinggreenspringonions, please send them my way, they will be much appreciated.

So now I just need a few more raised beds built so I can plant those peppers and zucchini. . .(cough, cough).

Uniqua Who? and Beached Whales

2010-05-12T10:30:00.007-06:00

Sunshine!!!
Well, kind of.

It's still pretty cold and sort of windy around these parts, but it's nice enough to be outside watching the munchkin do this (yay!). Outside, where there isn't any snow (at the moment). And Shrek doesn't exist (yet). I'm sure he will remedy that one someway, somehow.

He's also singing "Racing Day" at the top of his lungs in these photos. And if you don't know this song, you probably also don't know what a Uniqua is.

Too bad for you. Just have a two year old and all shall be revealed.

Summer is coming. . .and I'm more than ready.

Now, if only I could dream of laying by a pool without wincing at what my body is going to look like by the time it's warm enough to put a bathing suit on. I guess that's what I get for being hugely pregnant during the hottest months of the year.

Who's idea was this anyway?

Shrekaholics

2010-05-11T10:02:00.009-06:00

"Sit back, relax. . .it's time for YOU!"

This is the phrase that was repeated a gazillion times by the little munchkin as he sat perched on a barstool in the kitchen watching Auntie Robyn and I cook. He kept repeating this while enthusiastically pointing at one of us when he reached the appropriate "YOU!"

". . .it's time for YOU, Mama."

Finally we Robyn realized that he was quoting lines from Shrek (this is the scene when the magic mirror is about to give Lord Farquaad his choices of available brides-to-be).

So what does this tell me?

1. We watch too much T.V., specifically too much Shrek.
2. It needs to stop raining and snowing so we can play outside already. It's May 11th and it's snowing as I write this. Ugh I need some sunshine.
3. He's wicked smart, right? I mean- he's quoting movies lines. This is good. Right?
4. Right??

Minutes later, and probably spurred on by our laughter, he moves onto this one:

"Techanny you notta teen."

What??

20 tries later, not even Robyn (ha!) could make out what he was trying to say. Sometimes munchkin-speak is hard to decipher! But she couldn't even get it, so I didn't feel so bad.

Until she did, at which point I felt like an awful mother who can't even understand her own kid. Thanks sis, you're the best. Just kidding, I'm so glad someone understands him when he's asking for help wiping his buns. It's all you.

"Technically you're not a king!"

Oh boy, we really need to get out more.
Later that night, I was watching my husband and the little guy chasing each other around the living room, the little one squealing with happiness. Then I heard my husband call to him, "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!"

Please send help. We are currently on a Shrek detox.
Thank you.

Cozy Vanilla Boogers

2010-05-04T10:16:00.013-06:00

I keep finding myself changing the way I speak, rethinking phrases I use everyday. Not because what I'm saying is bad or inappropriate, but sometimes it just sounds. . .weird. And maybe it just sounds weird because I'm now able to hear absolutely everything I say repeated by a 2 1/2 year old parroting munchkin, but maybe? . .maybe it isn't . Maybe I'm kind of annoying and no one has the heart to tell me?

I mean, do I really say "actually" that much? Do I really tilt my head and say "hmmm" oh so thoughtfully? Do I say "right?" in an effort for all parties to then agree with me after each and every sentence???!!! (Stop nodding your head hubby).
Apparently I do, because this little redheaded person has taken on all my speech patterns and is passing them off as his own!

I have also realized that I say "nice and cozy" way too much. Way way too much.
I say it while snuggling on the couch with my little guy and a blanket, asking him if he's nice and cozy. I say it tucking him in, or bundling him up to go outside. "Are you nice and cozy honey?"
So when he asked for a glass of vanilla milk the other day (which is really nutritious almond milk- insert evil laugh here), I poured the kiddo a cup. He takes it, looks down into the cup and then hands it back.

"Jaime, make it nice and cozy." (Yes, he is still calling me Jaime. Unless he is sad or hurt, or just plain whiny, in which case he then lays the "Mommy" on very, very thick. He knows what he's doing, the little punk.)

Huh??? I looked around confused, hoping for some direction. It came in the form of Auntie Robyn, who was immersed with her laptop on the couch. "He wants you to warm it up. You know, make it nice and cozy, " she says absently and goes on typing.
Of course that's what it means, I knew that!

Um, I so did not know that.

A few minutes later, I look over to see the munchkin choking a little on his milk. It looks like it went down the wrong pipe, and he coughs a little as some milk comes out of his nose.
"Oh no, I made 'nilla boogers!" he says.

Hey, at least those vanilla boogers are nice and cozy, right?

What Happened??

2010-05-03T10:53:00.006-06:00

What happened to the kid who looked like a carbon copy of my husband? What happened to the features that looked so exactly like him that it sometimes was a little creepy for me? Remember that scary resemblance?

Suddenly he looks exactly like me. Yeah, that's me circa 1980. The eyes, the nose, the cheeks, the mouth, the eyebrows. Pretty much everything above the neck except the red hair. And all I thought he got from me were those eyelashes.

Not so. The little guy has morphed into me in a tiny boy's body. And I couldn't be more thrilled!

Connected

2010-04-21T13:20:00.002-06:00

The internet Gods have visited my home, and I can now connect with the rest of the world and return to being a part of civilization. And I can also check Facebook and e-window shop the spring shoe collection online at Saks Fifth Avenue. You know, the really important stuff.

It was touch and go there for a stretch, with more than one company telling us internet service would not be available at our new location. . .scary thought!

I can also now easily upload the 634 of photos that have been sitting quietly in my camera's memory card, and who have been patiently waiting for me to remember I abandoned them months ago. It's been fun, like finding a $20 bill in my ski pants at the onset of winter, or that pair of earrings thought long gone, found in the bottom of a purse I hadn't used in a while. Here are a few I just found that were taken back in January that I just couldn't resist showing you.

Shaving 101.

Cheers to modern technology, and thank you internet Gods for looking kindly upon us!

Jazz Vs. Suns, The Best Seats Ever

2010-04-16T10:51:00.007-06:00

The big redhead went to see the Utah Jazz game the other night with a friend. A friend with some amazing corporate seats apparently, as these are the photos he annoyingly texted to me during the game. Thanks so much for rubbing it in, and I was having such a good time making snakes and turtles with the Pay-doh with the munchkin before I saw this.

I'm not even a big Jazz fan, but as a lover of most all sports-- it's hard not to be a tiny bit jealous of watching a professional game, any professional game, from a place where you can see the expressions, smell the sweat and hear the conversations of the athletes. Lucky bastard.

The Power Of Love, Or At Least Chocolate

2010-04-14T14:15:00.004-06:00

So the infamous Robyn-- Bob, Wobyn, Robbie, Auntie B, whatever we call her- is finally home.

Those China questions were getting kind of irritating and I'm so happy I don't have to answer any more inquiries about why Robyn is with China and not with him. I think he will have an aversion to all things involving China for the rest of his life, because it did try to steal his best friend, after all. You would be pretty angry too.

The best part of her being back though? She's staying with us. In the new house. All the time. As in, she lives there. I cannot explain the awesomeness of this. Not only do I get to hang with the little sis everyday, which is so much fun, but the little redhead? He is beside himself with happiness.

He wakes up- "I go get Robyn!"
I leave for work- "Robyn you play trains with me?"
I offer him a snack- "Robyn you want some?"
I put in a movie- "I sit with Robyn."

Ok, maybe we are getting the better end of this deal??
At least she's around to have very important and serious conversations with the little guy like this one:

Munchin: "Robyn, we need to go to the store."
Robyn: " I don't think so, we don't need anything right now."
Munchkin: "We have to go to the store, we don't have any M&Ms."
Robyn: "We have chocolate chips? Want some of those?"
Munchkin: "Yes."

Only a favorite aunt. I probably would have made him eat an apple, but that right there is probably why he likes her best. What I'm going to do in June when she goes back to the Air Force Academy is aready giving me panic attacks.

Actually, I Can Explain

2010-04-12T08:53:00.020-06:00

Explain why I've been so absent in writing, that is. Really, there are good reasons. Lots of them.

Reason #1: The House.
It's finished. Or finished enough to move into anyway, though that does not mean there is nothing to do. Because whoa Nelly, there is SO MUCH TO DO. Free time is not exactly easy to come by these days, let alone any leisurely time for me to sit at a computer and wax on about my life.

Better photos to come, but you get the idea-- we are in there and cooking in the kitchen!

Reason #2: Internet Access.
Or lack thereof, specifically. My normal mode in the past had been to download photos and write in the early mornings or evenings, and once at work the next day (read: alone with no small person climbing in my lap asking to watch Elmo or just randomly pushing any and all buttons in front of him) I would proofread, make a few minor changes and post. But with the crazy living arrangments of the past few months, my camera or computer seemed to always be where I was not. I would have one, but never the other. Combine that with a region wide kibosh at work of all internet access not actually applicable to, um, work-- I've literally not been able to get to my own website.
Note to self: must learn how to blog using my iPhone, stat.

Reason #3: The Munchkin.
Chasing a two year old around is always a lot of work, but people, this two year old is crazy. And fresh! Where does he learn to say these things?? Case in point, last night. The little guy is pushing a bar stool around the room, sometimes stopping to climb under the legs and pretending it's his moveable fort. He suddenly stops, looks at me, and the shoves it as hard as he can making it crash over onto the floor.

Me: "Hey kiddo, that's not such a good idea, OK.?"
Him: "Jaime, actually it IS a good idea."
He says this with his head titled to the side, eyes squinted, nodding sarcastically like he is put out to even be explaining this to me.

And yes, he is calling me Jaime. And usuing 'actually' in a sentence. Correctly.

And it's like this ALL THE TIME. Wonderfully tiring, if that makes any sense. He definitely is keeping us all on our toes.

Reason #4: The Making Of Another Redhead.
Yes, there is a bun in the oven, I'm in the family way, eating for two, knocked up. My eggo is preggo. Whatever we call it, it translates to UTTERLY EXHAUSTED. Redheads are a lot of work to make! Not that it's for sure a redhead of course, but that's what I'm imagining, so just humor me for now, because we won't know until September! A glimpse into what's going on in there and making me want to nap at all hours:

The little boy in there is kicking my butt, making in a bit difficult to keep up with my normal pace of life. But so worth it!

So you see, blogging has recently taken a backset to naping, unpacking boxes, building that 100th Lego tower, and getting to work on time. Hopefully in the very near future this will change, but until those internet service people get out to my house a hook a girl up. . .just picture me asleep on the couch with the munchkin and his Papa, beacuse that's about as exciting as it has been around here.

Not that I'm complaining, snuggling up on the couch with my boys? It doesn't get much better that that.

The Easter Bunny's Belly

2010-04-01T10:15:00.009-06:00

The munchkin is completely obsessed with stomachs.

When cuddling up with him, he will turn to look at me and say, "I touch your belly?" or even "I need your belly!". And it's not just my belly either, pretty much any old belly will do- as long as it's smooth and hairless, and not "scratchy" like his Papa's and Grandpa Pops.

He especially likes Princess Rachael's tummy (because it's so ripped!), but also loves Robyn's, Grandma's, or any other unsuspecting female who may have dropped by for a visit. Watch out!! If you get to close he may just ask to rub your belly!!

He has always been a touchy- feely baby, wanting to have direct contact with skin at all costs. Even at a only a few months old he would work his little hand up my sleeve, down the neck of my shirt, or push his toes into the waistband of my pants in order to find warm skin. Not much has changed, except now he can ask for what he wants. And he does.

And really, explain to me how do you say no to this face?

The other night we were snuggling and getting ready to read some bedtime books, and I was trying to explain to him about the Easter Bunny. Anyone who is going to bring him candy is good to go in his book, and his eyes got bigger and bigger with excitement as I told him about the bunny coming and bringing him chocolate and candy. He sat up, eyes wide with anticipation and said to me, "I see the Easter Bunny? And I touch his belly??"

Dear Robyn

2010-03-02T11:53:00.007-07:00

Dear Robyn,

You think he would have forgotten about you a little, he is only 2 after all. You have been gone for months, and one would assume after some time had passed he would ask for you and talk about you less.

Nope, not this guy. He asks about you every day. Every. Day.

He talks about going to China, pretends to talk to you on the phone. You guys have some very interesting conversations, by the way. Apparently you told him you were eating cheese sticks the other day during your fake converstaion, and he had to have some too. You ate them together and chatted away like old gossipy friends.

When asked what he would like to do today, a usual response is, "Go China see Robyn!" If I tell him we are going to Grandma Penny's house, he says, "Robyn there?" Your car is in her garage, which is a constant source of conversation. "Robyn's car! Robyn here? Where Robyn go?" He knows the answer, he is just hoping for a different response.

So, can you please come home already?? I know you are gone again for college in the fall, but we need our Robyn fix please.

Thanks for your understanding.

Love,

Your favorite sister (I won't tell Princess Rachael)

Baby It's Cold Outside

2010-02-26T13:16:00.009-07:00

Nope, I'm not up there.

But this was the view that greeted me as I parked next to my office on an early Monday morning workday. Beautiful.
I wish I would have been up there floating away rather than heading into work. . .or maybe not, as it has been crazy cold around these parts, and my office is pretty toasty. Cold and snowy, that's what we have been hiding out in lately.

I guess it's supposed to be, seeing as it's February in Utah, but still. Even with all the fun outdoor activities we get to do, by the end of February most of us start to dream of warm weather and a snowless landscape. Being able to go outside without spening ten minutes finding wool socks, boots and mittens. Bike rides and playgrounds without icicles.

Maybe I just need to hop on a plane to the beach. . .hint, hint.

The snow did give the kid and I a perfect opportunity to build our first ever snowman, which is significant because Utah is not a great place to build a snowman. Snowmen don't always turn out very well here because the snow is so light and fluffy, and the flakes refuse to stick togther. Perfect and powdery for skiing, but hopeless when trying to make a snowball. Perfect for just blowing the piles of snow off your car in an easy swipe, but maddening when trying to make a snowfort.

In the past I've resorted to dragging bowls of water outside to dampen the snow, but after this particular storm, the snow was the absolutely perfect consistancy of snowman snow.

And yeah, thats a real term.

He was a little confused about using a carrot for the nose, especially after the first one we brought outside was eaten by the dog when our backs were turned. But once we started using rakes as arms and rocks as eyes, he got into the swing of things. He was pretty happy until the dog peed on the snowman, which made him wag his finger at him and tell him that the potty goes in the toilet.

Maybe the potty training is starting to sink it?? Here's hoping.

Balls

2010-02-17T11:28:00.002-07:00

So we're riding along in the car, heading home after a long day, when the little person in the backseat perks up and asks me nonchalantly,

"Mommy, I have balls?"

And yes, he means those kind of balls. Yeah.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Two Little Munchkins Sitting In A Tree

2010-02-13T18:40:00.001-07:00

My girlfriend and her family came in for a weekend visit recently, toting with them the cutest little girl ever. Really, they don't come any cuter than this. The little guy was absolutely smitten, and alternately followed her around stealing every toy she touched, and pushing her down. Which I learned in munchkin speak roughly translates to, "hubba hubba."

Yeah, she's knows she's adorable.

He had to do everything she did, there was some serious toy/fun/attention stealing paranoia going on in his little head. Which was of course hilarious for his parents to watch, so he got no help from us. Poor kid.

He would get closer to her if it were physically possible.

Only once did she get a little aggressive with the little redhead, which was a nice change of pace.

Hey.

Hey you.

Ewww, girls!

Oh, alright.

Hmmm, yummy.

Did you see that, Papa???!!! Did you??!

And just for good measure, we snapped a couple pics with which to embarrass them with a little later in life. Every mother should have a good arsenal of these things, you just never know when you might need them.

And since they've been gone, the little guy has been "talking" to her a lot on his toy phone. I distinctly overheard him this morning asking her to please come over to play race cars with him. And to bring bananas and frosting with her, because he was hungry.

I kid you not.

The Dance Is Here

2010-01-25T19:31:00.006-07:00

The Sundance Film Festival that is. Hollywood takes over our cute little town for 10 days every January, and throngs of PIB's (People In Black) wreck havoc in the form of LA-worthy traffic jams, insanely bad driving by people who have no business behind the wheel when the snow is falling, making it impossible to get a reservation at any restaurant within a 20 mile radius, making a stop at the grocery store for some milk a harrowing experience and clogging up the line at my favorite coffee shop and then taking all the good seats.

Although the coffee shop line is the best place to check out the clothes. They are my absolute favorite, a sight to see. To the lady in the 5 inch stilettos and mini leather jacket, "Did you happen to notice that foot of new snow out there?". Or the chick overdoing it in the head to toe puffer jacket with the aviator fur hat, "Oh yeah, you blend." Or to the guy in the matching tasseled fur boots, hand muff and Russian trooper hat, "Really?. . . Really?" The PIB's also have an unwritten rule to never, under any circumstances, remove their sunglasses. No matter that its dark and storming and, oh yeah, we are indoors.

But my local barista did slide my usual toward me once she glimpsed me through all the weirdos and whispered, "This one's on me." I wanted to hug her, it really is the small things that can make a person's day.

And OK, I'll admit it. I have some movie tickets and am pretty excited to see some of the amazing movies that are in town. I'll be there, but I won't be wearing black, you can bet on that!

The China House

2010-01-14T07:40:00.000-07:00

"Hey Mama, where Robyn go?"

She went on a trip.

"Were she go Mama?"

She's away at school, honey. It's very far away and we miss her soooo much, but she'll be back soon.

"Bat soon. . . Hey Mama, go see Robyn."

We can't go see her right now, she went to China. It's really, really far. She got on a big plane and flew in the sky, but she'll be back soon to see you.

"I see Robyn, Mama." "Hey Mama, where Robyn go?"

She's in China at school, but we can call her later, OK?

"Hey Mama, I go see Robyn."

She's far away at school, she's in China on a trip. We're going to Grandma's house, though!

"I go trip Mama." "Hey, Mama."

Yes, honey?

"Hey, Mama. I go to China's house Mama. Go China house now see Robyn."

No, sweetie. We're going to Grandma's house.

"Hey Mama. Go China house right now." "Hey Mama."

Yes?

"Want tooties mama."

China house? China's house? Not sure what his little mind is thinking. Beijing, China apparently is just someone's house down the road that I refuse to take him to, mean Mama that I am.

It's going to be a really long three months.

Kind of feels like this. Everyday. All the time. Constantly. You get the idea.

Do You Remember Your First Time?

2010-01-12T07:51:00.008-07:00

Skiing I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter, there are children present.

It was finally warm enough weather to test out the tiniest skis you have ever seen. 'Nama Penny and Princess Rachael joined me and the crazy redheads to witness the munchkin's first time on skis other than on the driveway.

Here we are, trying to smile for the camera so we can capture the moment. The munchkin just keeps sticking out his tongue, so I tell him to show us his teeth instead.

Hmmm, maybe thats not much better either.

Skiing with Grandma Penny. He just kept yelling, "Weeeeeee." A good sign.

After a number of little runs on the side of the hill where we all took turns hiking back up the hill with him, we decided to give the chair lift a try. He absolutely loved it, and as soon as we skiied off at the top of the hill, he yelled, "Do it again!"

Not the skiing, just the chairlift. Of course.

Like my sticker Uncle J?

At the end of the day he could barely keep his eyes open or his head upright. The girls and I took a few more runs after the boys left, but his Papa told me he was out before the car left the parking lot.

Maybe this is how we will get him to sleep more. . . ?

My luck, probably not.

It was incredibly fun, and I was happy (though somewhat shocked) we didn't have any tantrums or breakdowns. He liked it so much, he talked about it all night. Which was a nice change from, "Where Robyn Go?" "Hey Mama, Where Robyn Go?" "Mama, go see Robyn now."

We are in withdrawals from Auntie Bob. She has left us for some school on the other side of the world and won't be back for months. Miss you Bobbie, wish you could have been there!

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

2010-01-04T09:59:00.004-07:00

The munchkin and I stopped by the community field house to meet up with the big redhead who was there playing soccer, and ended up staying for hours. The little guy kicked the ball around with his Papa for a bit, but then noticed a few 6 and 7 year olds playing baseball with their dads and decided he wanted to play too. Of course this was in his usual redheaded fashion involving lots of stomping.

He "borrowed" a bat and a tee from one of the little boys, and began copying them by hittting balls over and over again off the tee.

Did I mention he is only 2?? It was pretty incredible to watch, as I had no idea he could hit it so well. If I didn't know better I would think Grandma Penny has been out there with him practicing on the sly.

On second thought, that may not be a far stretch. . .

OK, we may have a lot to work on here. He refused to stand on the right side of the tee. Or hit the ball in the right direction for that matter. He thought that big white square was a great place to aim for.

I just really want to know what happened to my tiny little boy. He has disappeared and this small little man-boy person who yells, "Hey mama, look me! Hit bessbolls! Hi-ya!!!!!" has taken his place. And when he hit a particularly good one into the tarp, he turned to us and yelled, "Goooooooaaaaaaaaal!"

We may have our sports mixed up, but we sure are having fun.

In A Holiday Whirlwind And Loving It

2009-12-26T11:27:00.011-07:00

That it's been a busy few weeks is an understatement. You know when you take an exciting trip someplace and do a ton of fun things, and come home exhausted and then need a vacation from your vacation? The holidays are kind of like that for me. All the excitement, the anticipation, the preparation. Then WHAM! It's here and amazing, then gone and you're left in an exhausted pile on the floor next to the dirty clothes, needing a good wash and press. Kinda like that.

So why am I already looking forward to next year??? I must be some kind of crazy, that's why.

Princess Rachael came home from college. We get her for six weeks, yay! Which will be good, because the munchkin's favorite person, Auntie Robyn, aka "Wobyn" is leaving us for 3 months to go to China and study. How the little one is going to live without her I am scared to find out. It's not going to be pretty, that I do know.

Then we had a very important birthday to celebrate, as the munchkin turned 2 years old last week. We had a huge bowling party, and since he's only two and has no friends, we invited all of ours! How many more years can I pull that one off ya think?

He did alright though, and he got to blow out his candles no less than 4 times. It is the best part you know.

That and he got to eat all the pizza he could consume. Which is surprisingly a LOT for such a little punk.

Then of course there was the usual shopping and wrapping from Christmas. Which takes oh so much longer than you ever expect it to.

And then there were the cookies.

Ah, the cookies.

Every year at Christmastime I make cookies, lots and lots of cookies. It actually doesn't really feel like Christmas is really coming for me until the cookies are well underway, and this year with the help of the Sink Girl, we knocked them out in record time. There was only one mishap, as I for years have made hundreds of gingerbread snowflakes. The cookie cutter collection of snowflakes in all shapes and sizes is a Christmas mainstay. And currently in storage. Great foresight on that one, eh?

So I had to improvise a bit and make due with stars. Hopefully they did not cause too much grumbling.

Not bad I think.

OK, now it feels like the holidays. Cookies just do the trick for me and get me in the perfect holiday mood.

Santa brought him a drum set. He (Santa) thought he would enjoy the Wii Rockband. He (we!!) did, and played it for hours on Christmas morning. The best part? He doesn't care if it's actually hooked up or not. Not plugged in= no actual noisy, banging drums. It may be the perfect gift.

The rest of us may or may not have spent even more time playing with his gift. Good job Santa, and look for me on tour soon, I sang so much yesterday my throat hurts!

Notice the matching PJ's. Cheesy, but adorable nonetheless.

This might be my favorite Christmas photo. My mother unwrapping my little bro's framed Olympic jersey. A very moving moment, only improved by the kiddo mining for boogers. That's my boy!

We spent the rest of the afternoon (well, what was left of it after all the rocking out) sleeping, eating, and playing toys among the wrapping paper. And I can honestly say I can't wait to do it all again next year. Happy Holiday's everyone!

Broken Hearts and Frosty the Killer, It's Just Been That Kind Of Morning

2009-12-16T11:20:00.013-07:00

So I am ready for work and starting to head out the door. The two redheads are at the kitchen island eating breakfast, just enjoying their time in the morning before the little one heads off to Grandma Penny's for the day. I kiss them both goodbye, and start to walk to the door.

"Mama, no going. Come bat. Mama, come bat."

Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouchie. I think my heart is still on a puddle on the floor in the entryway. This working mom stuff sucks. Seriously. Sucks.

On a lighter note, the guys building our house sent my husband this photo this morning.

They are good 'ol boys and I lov'em. They are also avid hunters, and my big redhead has never shot anything in his life, San Diego boy that he is. They keep trying to convince him to go "shoot shit" with them. Ducks, deer, whatever. When I drove out there the other day after work, they had a friend who had stopped by and they were all ogling a bow of some sort. Some contraption to shoot lots of shit I imagine. So my question is, did they build this or did their kids? Scary either way I think.

And How Do You Know This?

2009-12-14T18:50:00.001-07:00

We were all in the kitchen cleaning up the other night (Read: I was cleaning, hubby was surfing the internet and munchkin was splashing water everywhere in and around the sink, his way of helping me do the dishes. Oh so very helpful) --and we decided we would all snuggle up and watch some T.V. before the munchkin went to bed.

Me: Maybe there's a movie we can find that the little guy would like?

Hubby: Hanna Montana is on at 8:30.

Me: And you know this how?????

I am afraid. Very afraid. You should be too.

All Wrapped Up For Christmas

2009-12-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

It's getting there, slowly but surely. The house is wrapped and there are big strong men out there right now puting on shake and siding and rock. Oh my.

Oh so much better than my 2 front teeth.

Planes, Trains And An Apple Tree

2009-12-03T18:54:00.000-07:00

A long weekend at the beach.

I just love how that rolls off my tongue. Or maybe I just love it because I'm sitting here after an exhausting day at work wishing I was about to embark on another long weekend at the beach rather than having just returned from a long weekend at the beach. It could also be because I spent the better part of my workday tied up in corporate meetings. And I work in finance, so I bet you can just imagine how riviting and exciting my day has been. Yeah, a weekend at the beach sounds pretty good right about now. Did you know they still make us gals wear panty hose? Who still wears panty hose anyway? I do I guess. Against my will.

Very much against my will.

I wish I was here instead, making birthday cake sand castles.

Or back at our aunt and uncle's beach house, where they have an apple tree in their yard. Apple trees don't grow at 9,000 feet. I don't think I will ever get to have one in my yard.

Do you think they would notice if we just moved there and pitched a tent?

And that's just the fenced in part. This is their real backyard. I'd hate them if I didn't love them.

I might even be having sentimental thoughts about visiting at Legoland, and it wasn't even that great. The munchkin thought it was pretty fantastic though, and that's all that really matters.

I mean, he got to drive for goodness sake. You know how boys are about their cars.

And planes. We did this ride over and over again. And by we I mean them.

It was a great long weekend. We have the swords to prove it.

And now that the blasted panty hose is off and I am relaxed and sitting in front of a fire with a fabulous glass of red, I'm pretty sure I like this place quite a bit too. Yeah, I think right where I am is just exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Just Another Day At The Beach

2009-11-30T07:56:00.005-07:00

We're in Southern California for a few days, but don't be jealous, it's just awful. Truly awful.

Here is a horrible picture of our boring, ugly Sunday night.

Not Thanksgiving Thanksgiving

2009-11-27T10:00:00.008-07:00

We shook things up a bit this year, and decided to do something quite unorthodox.

We had Thanksgiving NOT on Thanksgiving. Nope, no roasting turkey and making pie crust for me yesterday. No basting, not one cranberry was simmered down into a sauce, not one onion satueed for a stuffing and I didn't beat any heavy cream into soft peaks for the topping off of desserts. I didn't even have a glass of eggnog. Sacralige, I know.

But don't feel bad for me, I did all of those things on Wednesday instead. That's right, my family went against tradition and ate our turkey on Wednesday. The great thing about my huge family is that it's a huge family. The bad part about my huge family is that we are a huge family. That means a lot of schedules to juggle. A lot of time constraints to consider. A lot of boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/inlaw commitments to carry out. A lot of pets. A lot of traveling. A lot of. . .you get the idea.

It just made sense to find a time when no one had any conflicts, and that sure as cuss wasn't Thursday. (I apologize. I saw the Fantastic Mr. Fox yesterday, and that's how he talks. Blame it on George Clooney.)

And even though we didn't go the traditioal route on the date, we most definitely made up for it with the menu.

25 lbs!!! It took nearly 6 hours to roast this baby. Also on the menu was wild rice and cranberry stuffing, a delicious apple, sausage and cornbread stuffing (because there can never be too much stuffing), pureed yams with brown sugar and cinnamon, classic mashed potatoes and gravy, brussles sprouts with bacon and shallots, apple crisp with vanilla ice cream, and a pumpkin and sweet potato tart with vanilla whipped cream that was to die for. I might still be full.

And we were able to break out my Grandmother's limoge. It was just the right thing to do.

But the biggest highlight of our Thanksgiving not on Thanksgiving was the birthday cake. And it wasn't even anyone's birthday. (That tunnel in the side of the cake you see? My dad. He couldn't help himself.)

Yes, birthday cake. It's always a good idea.

I had called from the grocery during my 3rd last-minute-shooping-because-I-forgot-something trip, and I asked if anyone needed anything else because I wasn't coming back again. The message was relayed to all within earshot, and the only person that felt they needed something was my munchkin. "Birdday Cake!" he yelled from across the room. I heard it loud and clear.

His 2nd birthday is in a month, so really, this is good practice. OK, we may have been "practicing" for months already, but any excuse to buy or make cake is a good one in my book. I now just have someone else to pin it on, that's all.

He doesn't get this from me.

I would never do something like this.

It was wonderful, even when my team lost both the Trivial Pursuit game AND the Ping Pong World Championship Match. We spent all day on the actual Thanksgiving playing board games and having Wii tournaments, taking walks, watching movies, napping, and really just enjoying the holiday together. I absolutely love the hustle and bustle of cooking for a large group of people, but this holiday was quite possibly the most relaxing I have ever had. I am so thankful for all the crazies in my life that make up this thing we call family.
And the very best part? I went out to dinner last night with some great friends to a fabulous restaurant and I ordered the Thanksgiving special. Perfection. Perfection without dishes to do.

Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours!

Knock Knock Who's There

2009-11-25T10:17:00.004-07:00

Princess Rachael wasn't coming home until Christmas, mainly because her Thanksgiving break from college is so short. Also because Utah is a tad more than a hop, skip and a jump from Providence. And really because airline tickets are ridiculously expensive. That, and she has six weeks off starting in mid December. Instead she was planning to head to New York City with friends to spend the holiday there, so when she called Grandma Penny last Friday night to say that her professors had cancelled all of her Tuesday and Wednesday classes and she wanted to come home pretty please, we tried to make it happen.
But since Utah is still very far away from Providence and tickets are still ridiculously expensive, it just wasn't gonna happen. Last minute airline ticket prices over a huge holiday weekend are insane, by the way. Criminal even. How do those airline folks sleep at night? Probably in ridiculously expensive beds from all the markup profits they get from last minute travelers, that's how. Arses.

The point is, no Princess Rachael.
Too bad so sad.

But this is the good part. Hubby and I got to talking about it late Sunday night, and we decided to do something crazy. We have some free round trip tickets we hadn't used, and wouldn't it be fun to have her back for the holiday? Even better, what if we brought her back and didn't tell anyone?

And that's exactly what we did.

BTW, are you noticing my mad Lite Brite skills?

It was set up great. We were all at Grandma Penny's, and the doorbell rings. No one gets up, so Grandma goes to see who it is. The door opens, the was some screaming, then the door slammed shut. Grandma looks around, bewildered, then rushes back to open the door again. More screaming, maybe some crying. Amazing.

Happy Thanksgiving to us!

An Uninvited Rainbow

2009-11-21T08:02:00.001-07:00

No one tells you, but once you have a child, all of your understated and classic collections of all things white and beautiful are slowly but surely replaced, and you become engulfed and eaten up by a rainbow of loud plastic dishware in every size and shape.

It took nearly 2 years, but OMG this is ridiculous.

Fall Pics Of The Crazy Redheads

2009-11-18T16:09:00.017-07:00

As fall sprints toward an abrupt end in these parts, we are trying to squeeze in every ounce of outside time we can before it requires us to don Gore-tex and Sorels. Not that we don't love Gore-tex and Sorels, but sometimes it's nice to leave the house without an extra layer or ten of outerwear. I'm just saying.

Boys and sticks. There is just something important between those two things. Digging, whacking, more digging. Hours of entertainment.

There's the flipping again. There is always flipping.

Flipping and throwing.

Hey mom, I need a haircut please. This thing on my head is almost a mullet. A cute mullet, but a mullet nonetheless.

Also mom, did you notice that I am suddenly HUGE? Yeah, that's 'cause I'm nearly 2. Huge.

Nice Helmet

2009-11-17T07:15:00.006-07:00

Just practicing for ski season over here, don't mind us. Mostly just racing around the living room knocking into the walls and furniture. He's amazed he can whack his head (on purpose of course), fall down, and still be fine. Or fine enough to do it again and again, so maybe not so fine.

Whatcha lookin' at??

He's very excited about his new gear.

In munchkin speak: "Tum ON! Set GO! I luuv-eet Mama!"

Candyman

2009-11-16T10:10:00.004-07:00

It's no secret I use bribery on a daily basis with the kiddo. It ranks high up there in my parenting philosophy, mostly becasue IT WORKS. Really well. You can pretty much get anything accomplished with a touch of bribery here and there.

Time to go potty in the toilet!! You don't want to?? But if you do, I have a few M&M's for you. . . Voila! A plastic pot full of pee.

You don't want to take a bath? That's OK, but if you do we can jump on the bed!! For as long as you like. . .
He immediately sprints to the bathtub, yanking on his shirt as he goes.

Don't feel like brushing those teeth? You're choice, kid. But if you DO brush them, we can build a TENT in the LIVING ROOM!! Oooooh!
He then becomes the fastest tooth brusher in the West.

Don't want to pick up all your toys? Fine, but if you do I will turn on Hannah Montana!!
The place becomes immaculate within minutes. The power of Hannah is really something to behold. (On second thought, something may be wrong with this kid. Oh well, there are worse things than Miss Montana I suppose.)

So it was no surprise when I said to the munchkin,
If you eat most of your dinner, we can break out the Halloween candy!

This was the scene shortly after the little guy ate every last bite if his dinner, vegetables and all. (I'm telling you, it WORKS).
I handed him his bag of leftover Halloween candy and told him he could pick just one piece. Not such an easy task for an almost- 2- year- old. It's kind of like deciding between curing cancer or ensuring world peace.

After lining up all the exciting choices, he began to carry on an entire conversation to himself, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of each selection. Very serious stuff.

The conversation got a little heated, a few times he was so excited I was sure he had decided on one.

He hadn't.

Oh the pressure!!

I'm just not sure I am capable of making such an important, life altering choice here, mom. I need another minute. Or maybe five.

Seriously.

Maybe this one. . .

But then which color???!!!

Much, much later he made a decision. I'm sure the mini M&M's choice had something to do with the amount of pieces in the bag. Nothing gets by this one, it just takes him a while.

All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

2009-11-13T08:04:00.001-07:00

This is what happens when I decide to pee by myself.

I had left him happily in the living room elbow deep in the suitcase we were unpacking. He was having a ball lining up my shoes and making hand puppets with his dirty socks.

I guess that my makeup bag was under there somewhere. I didn't see it, but kids have a way of finding the very things you would rather they never touch. (Sorry to my friend's teenage son who was severely busted when the muchkin unearthed hidded fireworks in his closet last weekend. Oops.)
My Laura Mercier lipstick is now just a shadow of its former self. And the Dior mascara? Let's just say the munchkin has some excellent taste. He only ruined the most expensive items in there.

And are you noticing these ridiculous eyelashes??!! So not fair.

A little eyeshadow never hurt anyone, right?

Over The River And Through The Woods To Grandmother's House We Go

2009-11-12T06:32:00.003-07:00

Multnomah Falls, the view from the road on the way to Grandma Copper's house.

Or 'Nama Topper as the munchkin referred to her all weekend. Probably more then you want to know, but it's also the site of my mother's first kiss when she was 16 years old.

The Redheads and I made a quick weekend trip to see some friends and family in the Portland, Oregon area. It was to see the last college football game of his youngest brother, visit with an old high school friend of mine I hadn't seen in nearly three years, and of course to see Grandma Copper and The Farm.

'Nama Topper has a gorgeous farm full of fruit orchards in Hood River, Oregon. I love this place, and spent tons of time here growing up. Nothing at all has changed. It looks exactly as it did when I was 10, and also no different than when my mother was growing up here.

Apples, Pears, Peaches and Cherries. Oh my.

Absolutely beautiful.

The Witches House. I have no idea why we call it that, but this abandoned house on her property was the site of many hours of fun with all my siblings and cousins. There are 21 grandkids, so there were always a ton of us hanging around this place.

Grandma and I peeled and dried lots of pears during this stay.

And I found more than a dozen bags of them hidden away in my suitcase upon returning home.

Grandma's are just good like that.

This Is Why We Live Here

2009-11-11T06:10:00.002-07:00

The Greatest Snow On Earth.

Season Ski Pass time, and the little man is getting his very first one. The first of many, many season passes. The snow will be here well before his 2nd birthday, which means he will be out making turns while he is still only one year old. Ok, maybe "making turns" is not exactly what will be happening. But there will be snow, there will be skis, there will be smiles, there will be a small redheaded munchkin sliding around out there in it. I can't wait.

Smile for the camera!

Look Up, Sweetie! Open your eyes!

No, OPEN them, don't hide them!

Useless.

Blue Steel??

He didn't mind the goofy photo at all.

He thought it was pretty cool.

Shoeless

2009-11-09T14:08:00.001-07:00

We searched and searched, but were unable to locate the munchkin's shoes. Where did he put them? Not in the toy box, not on the sofa, not in the dog's dish or in any of the cupboards. I knew he hid them somewhere, but where? I was in a rush, and we needed to get going. . . where in heavens name could they be?? They were just sitting here by the door not too long ago. So strange. After another 10 minutes, we gave up and left, shoeless.

The shoes were located hours later. . .IN THE MICROWAVE.

Now, why didn't I think to look in there!??

Ree Drummond and The Elusive Cookbooks, A Comedy Of Errors

2009-11-05T07:36:00.023-07:00

Doesn't that sound like a Nancy Drew mystery?

I love Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman. I love her blog and reading about her life. So when I found out she was going to be in Salt Lake City on her cookbook tour, I immediately put it on my calendar and began looking forward to meeting her. Mabye this makes me a big dork, but I was really, really excited to meet Ree.

What actually happened last night still has me shrugging. Alas, Ree and I were not to meet. And those cookbooks? Still elusive to say the least.

I decided to leave a little early because I hadn't yet had a chance to buy her book, as it just came out last week. I thought I would get to the bookstore early, get a copy for myself and for a few friends who don't live in areas where she will be stopping by on her book tour. I also had the kid, and with a kid everything takes just a little longer. So early it was when I left for the 30 minute jaunt to The King's English Bookstore in Salt Lake City. It was dark, even though it was just after 5:00. Damn daylight savings. Excpet I love the sleeping in feeling. But since that feeling is nearly gone. . . damn daylight savings and utter darkness at 5:00pm.

Let's just start by saying I almost was killed on the way down the canyon highway into Salt Lake. A near miss when a semi truck didn't see me and began to move into my lane had my adrenaline going early. Swerving just in time, and nearly hitting the guardrail, we made it out unscathed. We're just fine, thanks for asking. Arriving nearly 45 minutes early, I still found it nearly impossible to park. This bookstore is near the University of Utah, and is basically in a residential area. As I drew closer to the shop, I noticed a horde of people out the door and around the corner. And then up a few blocks.
Now what?? I have a small child with me, and that line looked like it was going to take hours to get through. No matter, I can't even GET IN LINE if I don't find a place to park. Which I finally located only about 10 blocks away.
Sitting in my car I almost didn't get out. Maybe it would just be easier to go home, this was going to take much longer than I expected. And I didn't plan on waiting OUTSIDE. WITH A BABY. It wasn't that cold, but with the darkness, it felt as if it were 10 pm. I wasn't about to stand in a line on a busy street holding a 20 month old child for hours on end. But loving Ree as I do, I figured I should at least asses the situation before I gave up on it. So out I got.

I grabbed my debit card out of my purse (less baggage to carry), shoved it into my diaper bag, grabbed the munckin, locked the door, and stepped right into a pothole, nearly falling down onto the road. My knee got a little scraped up, but the kiddo was still intact. It's very important job as a mother to keep your kids intact. It was dark out there, man! A little shaken, I hiked to the bookstore with the kid on my hip and got in the line to purchase my books. 20 minutes later, with a very squirmy child wanting to get down and throw all the books on the shelves onto the floor, I reached the cashier and requested my books. No problem, that will be $88.15 please. No problem, here's my card. Oh wait, problem. . . .CARD DECLINED. Declined? I have plenty of money in the bank. I used my card a few hours ago. I WORK AT THE BANK. It's your computer, please try agian. DECLINED. What the hell? And remember, I only took the one card out of my purse. My purse that is in my car 10 blocks away in the dark. Ugh.

So. . . .we hike all the way back to the car. Rifle through the purse for my credit card. No credit card. What is going on here?? And to top things off, the munchkin is now screaming for something to eat. Of course he refused dinner when I offered it to him before we left, and has already inhaled all the snacks I brought him. Did I mention it was really dark too? And that my knee is bleeding through my jeans? I needed some time to regain my composure, and the kid needed some dinner. So I buckled him back into his car seat and begin to walk around my car to the driver side. And stepped directly in the huge pothole. Again. Except this time I wasn't so lucky. No, this time I went down like a ton of bricks, cutting my hand, ripping off a nail, badly twisting my ankle and ripping my sweater. And to top THAT off, whatever was on the ground (I couldn't tell it was so stinkin DARK) was now all over my sweater. I was covered in something that looked like small dandelion seeds. And they had all dug themselves into the fabric and were not coming off. Basically I just looked a wreck. Like I had spent the last hour rolling around in hay and seeds. Really lovely.

Wanting to get the hell out of there, we drove to a nearby restaurant. Worried about my card not working there too, I searched one last time for my lost credit card, and finally located it UNDER THE DRIVERS SEAT. Apparently the munchkin threw my wallet and lots of other things out of my purse on the way down. Thanks for that, kid. I really appreciate it. Once seated in the restaurant, I quickly called the bookstore to purchase my books over the phone. With so many people, they were sure to run out soon. I would just buy the books, get the munchkin fed, and by the time we returned, the line was sure to have died down a bit. This was brilliant, I should have planned to do this all along. Relax, order a glass of wine even! I gave my information to the lady over the phone while trying to ignore the evil stares of my fellow diners. This was an emergency people! I need Ree's book, don't you get that?? The nice lady at the bookstore then tells me I probably won't be able to get them signed, as they were going to limit that soon. Seriously?? There was nothing I could do, so my baby and I just had a nice dinner together, even with my throbbing ankle and bleeding knee and hand. Sorry to the nice couple next to us who the wee man kept throwing breadsticks at. So sorry. And I apologize for looking so disheveled, but the little seeds all over my sweater are stuck there for good.

Getting back in the car, I decided I would just drive by the bookstore one last time. If I could park somewhat close, I could at least grab my books. I knew at this point I wasn't getting to meet Ree or get my book signed. I found a parking space close by, grabbed the munchkin and limped toward the swarm of peolpe at the front door. I was told by the throngs that the books had sold out, and no, you couldn't get your book signed unless you had been given a ticket.
No ticket here, so just give me my books and get me the hell out of there. While waiting in the line, a very sweet girl in front of me turned around to say hello. Then she asked me if I had a ticket to get my book signed. And when I said no, I unfortunately didn't have one, SHE GAVE ME AN EXTRA ONE SHE HAD. Really. This really happened, I was about to pick up my three cookbooks, and now I was actually going to meet Ree and get them signed. I let out a big sigh of relief. This was all going to actually work out after all, right?! Wrong. Oh so very wrong.

I got to the front of the line, and gave the nice lady my name. It was the same one I had spoken to on the phone earlier. Oh yeah, I remember you, let me grab those for you. Then she spun around, and looked here and there, and then very slowly turned back to me. I'm so sorry, she says, but it looks like we sold your books to someone else.
You sold my books. To someone else. Perfect. Just perfect.
I'm really not even that surpised at this point. I quietly handed my ticket back to the sweet girl in front of me, smiled weakly, and walked away.

Or tried to walk away. As I elbowed my way throught he crowd, one of my contacts decided that my eye was the LAST place it wanted to be. I was able to catch it with my ninja quick moves, but squashed it beyond repair. It was not going back in my eye. Defeated, I got in my car and squintily (is that even a word?) headed toward the highway and the road to home.

So you see, it was not to be. I was not supposed to meet Ree, and I was really not supposed to own that cookbook. I hear you fates, I hear you. Loud and Clear.

P.S. Thirty minutes later and a few miles from home, I get a call from the nice lady at the bookstore. I found your books, they were just misplaced. Do you still want them?

I said yes, but I dont have very high expectations of there being three books with my name on them when I go to retrieve them from the bookstore. IF I go retrieve them.

P.P.S. There was NOTHING wrong with my card. Just something seriously wrong with my luck.

P.P.P.S. It's now a week later, and I am happy to report that when I went to pick up my cookbooks, they were actually there and paid for. And SIGNED. Thanks!!!!

Wherein Peter Pan Loses Tink

2009-11-01T19:00:00.020-07:00

The Sink Girl and I as Peter Pans. Lovely, eh?

I'm just gonna get this one out of the way right off the bat. I look awful, but since it's apparently the only one we took of ourselves that night, it will just have to do.

But it WAS hilarious. Except I lost my sword (sorry munchkin!). And then my duo thought it wasn't sexy enough, so she ripped the collar area down until my girls were practically on display. I was rocking the Flashdance one- shoulder thing all night, thanks Nic!

The original idea was for the boys to be Peter Pans and for us to be Tinkerbells. But alas, no adult sized green tights were to be found, only some neon green fishnets in our size. . .so we thought WE should be Pans and the BOYS should go as Tink. And hell if we didn't whip up the CUTEST Tink outfits for them. I mean, we SEWED. Green felt and tulle flying everywhere, because of course this idea hit us just a few hours before we had to actually be at the party. We made WINGS for them for godness sake. And WANDS.

And then wouldn't you know? They refused to wear them. Just like that. No siree, I'm not wearing pink tights and wings they say.

Hmm, maybe in retrospect I don't really blame them.

A few of our Halloween highlights for you. . .

My little Elmo.

My big cowboy.

Or maybe The Marlboro Man.

See boys, this could have been you.

Our town has a Halloween Howling Dog Parade on Main Street, where people dress up their dogs and then, um, parade them down the street. All the shops have candy for the kids trick or treating, and hordes of them just make their way up and down the street until the candy runs out. All the little kiddos had a great time.

Mr. T. He had a good time too.

The munchkin found a twin.

And then chased a bear.

And then followed Dorothy and Toto to Oz. We all had fun watching the little guy nearly pee his pants every time someone gave him a lolly pop. He nearly passed out when one shop gave him an enire bag of M&M's!!!

I love Halloween. I love the costumes, the silliness, the candy, the parties. And if you are in need of a Tinkerbell costume, you now know who to ask!