Chaos At The Luau

Some Of My Favorite Things Right Now...

2009-04-13T18:06:00.014-05:00

*Quick side note: As I'm preparing to type this I hear the incessant squawks of a male grackle outside the window obviously trying his best to whoo a mate. I bend back the blinds to see him dancing about with his wings draped like Count Dracula's cape as he races around a perturbed female who is gathering the pieces of dried feather grass I weeded earlier. He's either so stoked to be shacking up with this busy little lady he can't contain himself as she collects debris for their love nest or he is totally pissed that she's not making a bed for him and is trying his best to get her to change her mind about the other bird. Ahh...the mysteries of Mother Nature.

This is my latest list of my current favorite things. This list doesn’t include the sentimental stuff like going for morning walks with the kiddo and the dog in this glorious weather, baking sweets with W, the satisfaction of yard work well done or dining on some grilled goodies al fresco every evening. Those are the other favorite things.

Dagoba Beaucoup Berries

Some of the all time best (and affordable) chocolate in stores. This flavor, however, sends me to the moon. Delicious.

Skinceuticals C and E

This one makes the list again. With turning 40 a mere weeks away, the war on staving off the wrinkles is officially ON.

Clarisonic

The Hubs actually owns this (in PINK!) but I use it as well. Seriously is the best face scrubber out there. Makes a huge difference in the “thorough cleansing” department. Over time I’m sure the results will be visible although right now I’m poking at a zit that is below my lip.

Emmi Lattes

Like to have these in the fridge for a quick boost without the extra cost, time or fuss. W likes to reuse the containers for other beverages.

iPhone iPod Shuffle Feature

Best when on walks and when the most appropriate tunes roll out organically. Then it becomes the “ipod del fuego”! Helps me hit my stride.

Surprise Roses

Came home from an Easter family reunion Saturday to find a box of roses from my dad with a card that said, “To my sweet daughter: a dedicated momma, and a loving wife. Love - Dad (Pop Pop)." How freakin' thoughtful it that?

Hello Summer...Here We Come

2009-04-10T11:02:00.001-05:00

Every day it seems things are changing in both big and small ways around here. I appreciate the variations and try to maintain a consistent bit of balance and harmony as these little evolutions occur. The biggest will be when the Hubs heads out on the road for a month in a couple of weeks. Soon our days will be filled with W anticipating the arrival of the mail and trinkets sent from various cities, Skype-ing (Skyping?) and abbreviated phone calls. The Virtual Daddy will take the place of the flesh and bone version. Always a challenge, always a little heartbreaking.

We’ve decided to take W out of preschool at the end of the month, too. This will free us up for spur of the moment trips, save us some money and will really allow W and I to take on the summer full throttle…tennis lessons, swimming in the various lakes and pools, camping trips, and more time spent with family and friends. I’m already in the process of putting together a calendar of summer activities. Who knew Home Depot had free workshops for kids? Definitely on the calendar.

I’ve also taken on a little sales gig for a company called Clatterhead. I’ve got lots of flexibility and can do it from home. It’s been an opportunity to learn something new, make a little cash on the side and remain among adults in a professional environment. I’m loving the social media marketing world. So interesting, so now.

This week my event planning company was awarded a very large contract for a huge shindig to take place in 2010 (HOORAY!). Planning starts this July and I am REALLY stoked about it. Should take my company to new levels and really boost business. On my to do list next week? Get my website done!

There’s also a chance that W will have a playmate a few days a week, too. I’ve offered to care for a 13-month-old boy (for dinero, of course) and I’m thinking it will be good for W to have another warm body around, someone he can play with and entertain. He’s already suffering from “only child syndrome” and I feel this will help him cope with it.

As busy as things seem to be and as rapidly as our days are being filled with activity, I’m loving the momentum. W and I are familiar with changes, new scenery and challenges. Last summer he and I moved to Marfa for 5 months. Who knows what this summer will bring? In the meantime, we have mucho on our plates.

Onward…

Roll 'Em Up

2009-04-02T02:06:00.001-05:00

I can’t sleep so I come downstairs to read the news online that I missed today. This leads me to horrifying stories of the latest missing children which then prompts me to do a search of my neighborhood registered sex offenders (City of Austin has a handy database complete with easy access to the addresses and latest creepy pics of your neighborhood pedophiles…there a couple a little too close by my casa, btw) and then I think…”Hey, what are the latest crime stats around here, too?” Yeah, I’m ready for some good sleep now.

Tuscany

2009-03-31T17:10:00.002-05:00

For the past several evenings I’ve snuggled myself beneath the covers in bed to read Under The Tuscan Sun, a wonderful and vibrant tale of a woman who buys a crumbling house in Italy and the daily life that develops in the midst of the dwelling’s rehab. I heard there was a movie of the same name starring Diane Lane but it doesn't seem to follow the book very well (no thank you, Hollywood). This is one of those well written tales that actually transports you to the countryside’s locale with its abundant fragrances, rivers of vino and mountains of local foods. These are my favorite sorts of books, ones where I can almost inhale the essences, hear the locals talking at a sidewalk café and the descriptive mention of edibles actually makes my stomach growl in response. I have a tendency to carry with me the feeling of the story throughout the day and yearn for long, lazy lunches of seasonal dishes followed by a cozy siesta in a hammock, a bit of gardening and then dinner party preparations in anticipation a hungry crowd of friends. The Hubs and I had lunch at Enoteca today which was just about as close as I can get to Italy right now…and it was lovely. Some of my other foodie-oriented author favs include Peter Mayle, Julia Childs, Michael Ruhlman, Patricia Volk, Anthony Bourdain (of course), Amanda Hesser and Amy Sedaris (foodie?…not sure), to name a few. If you have recommendations of food memoirs, food travel and the like please let me know.

Edible Garden

2009-03-25T16:25:00.011-05:00

For the past five months or so I’ve been stalking my neighbor’s garden two doors down. Five months, you query? Yes, five months. This includes those winter months when, according to my yard, nothing grows. This seemingly lonely dude with a very frisky calico cat has one hell of a green thumb and I can see the digit from my kitchen window. I’m the neighbor standing on her tippy toes at the kitchen sink straining to see what he’s up to in that bountiful Eden of his while unknowingly scrubbing the color off the dinner plate in my soapy hands. A couple of weeks ago I was inspired by his stately fruits and veggies so I went to Home Depot and took great care in choosing my small collection of tomatoes, herbs and a Serrano pepper plant. I put them in massive pots on a ledge so the dog couldn’t annihilate them as soon I turned my back. I watered them and cheered for them and already things are looking pretty bad. Brown spots, yellow leaves and little growth plague my sprouts. The neighbor’s garden boxes, on the other hand, taunt me from afar with their deep green color and bushy appearance. Why does it have to be this way?

On a positive gardening note, the tot and I spent the morning at his school working on a gardening project. We built a compost area, a place for melons and a lovely little area for veggies to grow. 12 kiddos or so ran amok with plastic shovels, hoes and watering cans. Although at certain moments it was like herding cats, we got a lot accomplished and in a couple of months they will be eating goodies they have grown themselves. Alice Waters would be so proud. Yeay team!

Newness

2009-03-24T20:43:00.005-05:00

Today I spent an hour working one of my all time favorite piano pieces from the movie Amelie. Let me pause here a moment to mention that I do not play the piano, cannot read music and cannot carry a tune but I am on a personal quest to learn this song even if it takes me the rest of my life. YouTube has a version that has been dumbed down enough for even the likes of me to follow. With the laptop perched on the piano and an earbud in my ear, I watched the solitary fingers of the phantom piano player over and over and over while listening to the notes and then I began play. While plunking along I can actually feel my brain sparking up in dark, quiet regions, probably the same regions built up like the Hulk in the brain of my musician husband. My fingers creep around on the keys like crabs on a hot, sandy beach. They are not nimble and elegant. They are clunky and awkward but the reward of actually playing a series of notes and creating this amazing melody on my own is such a thrill. I am, for now, hooked on this and will continue to torture those around me in my efforts to prevail.

I rearranged my son’s room while he was in school this afternoon. As a child I always loved coming home to a setting such as this when my mom, finally fed up to here and here and here with my clutter and chaos, took charge and somehow made me feel like we had actually moved to a completely different house. All of my toys would seem almost new again and, oooooh, look at my bed over therrrrreeeee! But W is kind of a control freak, like me. He likes his things just so. He warns us to not touch his monster trucks or disturb the circle of cars he has made the whole length of the couch. I tried to showcase his toys in a way he’d really appreciate the new arrangement (but for the love of jeebus why does just about every boy toy have to be 3” long?). I prayed that he wouldn’t totally spaz out and refuse to re-enter his domain. It was a possibility. It has happened before. I was, however, pleasantly surprised when he came into his room after school, gasped and said, “It’s great!” His lovely dimples were the ultimate proof.

Little White Lie

2009-03-23T13:54:00.017-05:00

Okay, I admit it. The post before this one was a smoke screen, a weak attempt to convince myself that my relationship with Facebook was more akin to a giddy coffee date than a gluttonous multi-day orgy but orgy it was. I don’t actually linger there like a ne'er do well barfly but do check in possibly 20 times a day for a quick fix, a social bump, if you will. In my opinion, that’s over-commitment when there are other, more important activities to be done…like blogging (“Dear mom, I’m so sorry I made you look at that picture of those green cupcakes for so many days.”). So I’m solemnly swearing to fewer daily voyeuristic activities on Facebook and more engagement with the family, the pet, and the world around me in real time. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.

My SXSW exposure was minimal this year, a stark contrast to when I once worked for the man behind the giant curtain of the conference. I didn’t see or do much but it was really just enough. Tuesday night we embraced our friends from Spain as their energy and enthusiasm engulfed us at Vino Vino. We sang, danced and drank bubbly until after midnight. W thought it appropriate timing to come down with a cold/cough/allergy-type bug that kept us home the rest of the week so for once I got plenty of rest, was hangover free and the bank account remained intact. Plus the Hubs got mucho attention as he bounced from gig to gig to gig while working like a rock n roll hound dog. Laundry got done, meals were on the table and the coffee crutch was delivered bedside in the mornings. Saturday was a double dip as the band played two shows and the kiddo and I saddled up for a full day of rock n roll hoochie cooin’. It was great to be back in the fray. W is well versed in the art of backstage etiquette and took to it like a duckling to water. Here, now, is a photo essay of the day…

Doesn't get much cheesier than this...

On the hunt for the backstage catering like a baby shark...

"This is called a keg. You will appreciate this later in life."

Never too early to learn how to string a guitar.

W misses the entire first show. This was good for his attitude later tho'.

Backstage at the San Jose. Great evening!

"Hey, someone get that kid away from me. Scaaaaaaary."

* Dear Bloggerdotcom, why do you have to be such a turd site? I've been trying to upload pictures for like EVER and now you're not letting me upload any more at all. What gives? Do you need a lap dance? Yours, K

The Internet Gripith

2009-02-26T10:02:00.006-06:00

So this is what has happened...I finally joined Facebook about two weeks ago after resisting with every ounce of marrow in my core. For those who don’t know (“Hi Dad!”) it’s that social networking site that, without warning, shoves you right back into ones childhood of passed notes (“Will you go with me? Yes…no…maybe. Check one.”), roller skating with your crush, science fair mishaps, skipping school to swim in a boyfriend’s pool, weekend campouts, high school days, college days…you get the idea. Thankfully my rendezvous with Facebook was like a summer romance. Initially I was wooed, excited and smitten. I hadn’t seen nor heard from SO MANY PEOPLE from my past and it’s been amazing to reconnect but, as I hoped, I don’t feel the need to constantly lurk and post comments and such. I am grateful to now have this huge virtual rolodex and a way to reach out to everyone, make plans for visits and catch up on the last 20+ years. It is remarkable to see how everyone has aged, how some people changed so drastically and some barely at all. And let’s not forget their own children, the offspring of tin foil apple core bong makers and once drunken water skiing slalom competitors.

Oh, and I just joined Twitter last night. Let the wild rumpus start!

Yesterday was a much deserved day off after the success of a huge Mardi Gras condo topping off event I coordinated in downtown Austin the day before. I decompressed while doing yard work and W deemed it warm enough to do this…

Love Texas in February.

Topsy Turvy

2009-02-07T18:00:00.004-06:00

Hello. Sorry to leave you with a week and then some of Har Mar but it has been cah-razy up in here. What I need is some serious balance, a notion so eloquently mentioned recently by Karla May. Reading her post made it clear to me that I, too, need some balance ‘cause lately it’s been like this…

I read the Wall Street Journal most days but lately it’s been difficult because I’m completely distracted by all of the doom and gloom headlines that riddle each page. Here is a short list from today…

-job losses soar
-explosives proliferate
-steep drop in demand
-hopes against hope
-boom falls hard in global crisis
-posts record drop
-losing streak
-more plants at risk

Makes it challenging to take on the day with a spring in your step knowing the road to success is seriously eroded right now. At least the Hubs and I have no fear of losing our jobs because we are self-employed but our risks are great ones and the task every day is to gain new clients (in my case) or book another strong gig (in his case). Creating some balance is essential so that in the midst of our hard work no one is left out, we don’t overlook our own personal needs and the needs of others and we focus on what matters in our little world. Yes, balance it is.

And for the extended family, here are some pics of the sprout in all his growth spurt glory...

Har Mar

2009-01-28T20:01:00.003-06:00

Y'all, the Hubs just called to say he wrote a song with Har Mar Superstar today. "Har Who?" I asked.

Check it. He's my new dance partner. Rowr!

Catching My Breath

2009-01-27T20:08:00.007-06:00

Spent a long, relaxing weekend with family outside of Big D. Mucho fun-o until the rancid jalapeno hot dog weiners invaded the bodies of my mom and her boyf. Ugly scene, folks. My little bro, who is an EMT, made the living room look like an ER with mom hooked up to an IV and meds scattered about. Yikes. Those weiners were the only thing the kiddo and I didn't eat. Whew!

Today. Today it was very quiet in the house. Eerily quiet. The tot spent the day at school, the Hubs is out of town. My brain, however, was not quiet. It was a whirly dervish of activity, concerns, ideas, chaos. If you could mic my brain matter it could easily be mistaken for a morning on Wall Street. The new event planning business is great but I never leave the office. Never. And thanks to my iPhone, I, again, never leave the office. I work constantly, at all hours because I can, because my office is in my house or on my phone wherever I am and I can’t help but look at my emails 5,000 times a day. I like my boss though. She’s cool with watching taped episodes of Bourdain in the morning while drinking carrot juice in her pajamas and tries her best not to check email and send out inquires and other correspondence for 5 freakin’ minutes. Impossible. Oh, and another small gift of being your own boss? Last minute opening at hair salon means you can get you butt in there pronto! Last time I got my hair did? October. Good-bye roots! Hello colored hair shafts that stand at attention!

(So I’ve been trying to write this for the last 25 minutes but the dog and child have been rough housing and it’s very distracting like “Godzilla in your living room” distracting. I think it’s good for both of them to play, wear each other out until…until W gets “hurt” and gets as mad as a hornet's nest and chases poor Ruby Tuesday like he’s going to skin her alive but instead gives up and breaks down in tears of frustration and exhaustion. And you know what I do? I yell at both of them because blogging is hard, people! I yell loud enough for folks in Mexico to hear me and I am not proud of myself. I have to go hug both of them now.)

2009-01-14T16:22:00.004-06:00

Hello.

Working like a beaver here (Speaking of beaver, I remember when I was about 12 and living in far east Texas, my best friend’s dad has a CB radio in his RV. We would hang out there, drink pink champale we swiped from her mom's secret booze hiding place and eat our way to the bottom of a hot sauce jar and bag of tortilla chips. That was pretty cool but the best part was talking on the CB to truckers. We never said dirty or bad things to them mainly because we didn’t know how to talk that way yet but we did say these two things often, “Breaker one nine for a west bound, you got an east bound a-lookin.” and “Hey, any you truckers want a commercial beaver…come back.” We had NO idea what a commercial beaver was.) Seems some event planning business has come my way along with a lovely little sponsorship sales position for this sweet film fest . We are currently looking for all sorts of sponsors for the 5 day hoo-ha so if anyone is interested, drop me a line and I’ll send you one of the most impressive decks I’ve ever seen. Will make you want to jump right in pronto. The work has encouraged me to start my own business so I’m going thru the motions of getting it all set up. VERY exciting and momma totally needs some scratch y’all. Plus I LOVE planning and participating in events, parties, shindigs, whatever you got. It’s in my blood and I feel blessed to be here. The timing is perfect as well.

W is going through some super-duper hardheaded phase that makes me want to send him to boarding school. Is there such a thing as a boarding school for belligerent tots? How about baby boot camp? Seriously, his scowls, pursed lips, folded arms and defiant attitude is making momma nutters. I thought backtalk happened at 16 not 3? Much too early for this nonsense. He does have his unbearably sweet moments where he “wubs” me and says, “I want to give you a big hug” and goodies like that but, man, he’s been a little challenging lately. Please tell me it’s temporary.

Oh, the other day the Hubs and I made la bomba shrimp and corn salad. This is serious goodness with the right collaboration of flavors, textures and color. I like to add chopped tomato, too. This is not a meal we would eat with friends because we literally stuff it in our faces like participants at a pie eating contest. There's just something about it. Give it a try for sure.

Unloading

2009-01-08T19:15:00.016-06:00

I’m unloading baby stuff these days, putting it on Craigslist and giving it away. It’s been hard to finally come to terms with the fact that we aren't going to make a sibling for W. Three is enough though and I’m finally starting to believe it. Folding his tiny clothes into little piles and sniffing his soft toys for hints of his former infant self has been a little heart wrenching to say the least. Many reasons guided us to our decision like the fact that I turn 40 soon and don’t want to put career-oriented goals on hold again AND W is finally starting to bond with the Hubs. The thought of the possibility of another 3 years of mommy-centricity like W exhibited is unbearable. And don’t get the wrong idea, this isn’t all my decision. The Hubs has some thoughts on it, too, like he’ll be on the road and I’d be the one juggling two kiddos while running a business. Ummm…no thanks. W’s just going to have to be okay with Jelly Cat as his constant and floppy sidekick. Maybe he’ll create an imaginary friend. I never had one of those. Way too many Barbies and stuffed animals around when I was a girl. Oh, and tons of pets. I mean, ridiculous amounts of four-legged, two legged and no legged creatures. So for now and always, we are 3 plus a dog.

Recently I was thinking of some of my favorite things around the house these days. I thought I’d share them. Feel free to mention your own favs.

-A giant faux black sable blanket (not my chair pictured). Love this thing. It’s huge and weighs a ton. The whole family lives beneath it when it’s cold out. Almost the perfect substitute for a fireplace, almost.

-Voluspa Floraison Linden Blond Tabac Perfume (whew, that’s a mouthful). Have worn it for years and people often ask me about it. Smells nice without being obtrusive.

-My black Dearfoam house shoes. LOVE them and have gone through many pairs. I have this thing where I loathe walking around the house (any house) barefoot. Never do it. Don’t like random floor crunchies sticking to them.

-Illume pineapple cilantro scented candles.

-Favorite coffee mug that has a ghost on it that says, “boo.” That’s what my dad has always called me since I was little.

-The pictures and W’s art on the fridge. Very special to me.

-Cannot live with out my daily dose of SkinCeuticals C E Ferulic. I’m not aging without a fight.

-Soft Soap Pomegranate body wash. Awesome and cheap, especially if you by it at the Dollar store.

That's all on the list for now. Twas a very long, busy day. Time to get the tot to bed and head that way myself. Goodnight.

We All Live In A Yellow Submarine

2009-01-05T16:46:00.005-06:00

In our household I try to make an effort to speak kindly, to add lilts in my voice to convey friendliness and interest because W is always listening and learning. When my nerves are frayed and I’m about to pack my bags and take advantage of one of those Southwest Airlines “Wanna get away?” promos I really have to make the effort to be nice. I grit my teeth and say the second thing that comes to mind, not the first because the first is cranky, mean, ugly. I have noticed lately since the little fam has been cohabitating in such close and frequent proximity that the Hubs has been expressing himself sweetly and adding the lilt, too, and no longer sounding like his interrupted, mildly interested self. I listen to him talking to W and smile to myself knowing we are all trying our best in this new and unfamiliar situation of constant family-ness. Score one for the home team.

On a daily basis I am entertained by W’s three-year-old dialogue and imagination. His little brain is currently being fed by his all time favorite movie Yellow Submarine. He started watching it on YouTube this summer and then Santa brought him a discontinued copy via Russia (totally pirated and copied it seems). He will watch it three times a day if I allow and there are many random moments where he breaks out in to a Beatles tune from the soundtrack. One recent morning on the way to school and while waiting at a light I hear a small voice in the backseat sing, “All the lonely people. Where do they all come from?” Was very poignant since it’s a corner where the homeless hang and people are waiting on the bus. He usually can’t go from one room to the other without a the soundtrack sung at the top of his lungs…All You Need Is Wub (complete with his hand shaped like a gun minus the trigger and waving around like in the film), Yellow Submarine and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Cwub Band. He still sings Bad To The Bone, too, and it goes something like this…

“On the day I was born, a saw gadder ‘round, gage a white window, joy they bound, dista bow, see da (something, something), they could tell right away-yah I was bad to da bone, bbbbbbbaaauud…” and so on. It’s quite funny. Thank jeebus he’s forgotten about Who Let The Dogs Out. Loathe that song

His curiosities are what leave me completely in stitches. And he won’t let you get away without answering him. Interrogations usually go something like this…

“Mommy, do cats pee outside…yes or no?”
“Mommy, are cookies treats…yes or no?”

So you have to answer or the questioning never ends. The other day this was asked…

Him: “Mommy, what’s guff?”
Me: “Hmmmm…it means attitude” (I know! Lame answer but he caught me off guard.)
Him: “It means you’re wild.” (He has said in the past that Gogo, his grandma, gives him guff. Yep, she’s pretty wild.)

Good times in the Chaos household. It’s dang cold out today which really confuses things since it was in the 80’s on Sunday. Tonight’s menu is my favorite turkey chili recipe with unsweetened chocolate and cinnamon. Yes, it totally rules. The last batch of peanut butter “thigh thickening” cookies are in the oven, too. It smells like Mrs. Field’s up in here. Oh, and I’m on day 5 of the “no alcohol allowed” wagon ride. Yippee! Am going to totally blow it when I fall off on Jan. 11th at a formal little dinner we’re attending. Oh yes, I am.

Bring It On

2009-01-03T12:26:00.002-06:00

Hello 2009. Sure am glad you’re here. I was just about fed up with 2008 already so good timing.

A photostream of some of our pics from 2008 have been added to the “W’s Work” link on the right. I couldn’t figure out how to make the 2008 pics their own little space. Oh well. BTW all of the images were taken with my iPhone. Damn thing is the shizzle.

I obviously didn’t resolve to blog everyday hence no January 1 or 2 write up so the pressure is off. I will however attempt to blog as often as possible and I’m sure there will be much to fuss about, much to applaud, and even more to drink to in the coming year. Since I’m not bringing home the bacon right now we’ve cut back on our snobby wine clubs and wine bar splurges so I’m considering stomping my own grapes in the clawfoot tub downstairs. Hell, the blackberry jelly many of you got for Christmas turned out fine, right? I do have a couple of irons in the fire though and some direction on a little personal endeavor so we’ll see how it all goes. I don’t think we’ll be in the poor house anytime soon. If it starts to look that way though will you all buy my homemade hooch? I think I’ll call it “Catherine The Grape” named after my toenail polish.

Ick

2008-12-27T16:00:00.002-06:00

Nothing says Merry Christmas more than taking goodies to the elderly couple next door and realizing you've got a candy cane stuck to your ass after the fact.

True story.

Bah Humbugger

2008-12-24T14:06:00.002-06:00

What I’ve done already today because I’m insane:

-Started packing for a trip tomorrow
-4 loads of laundry
-Painted a huge spot repaired two years ago in the breakfast nook
-Hung 3 new framed pics, one of the Hubs xmas gifts
-Vacuumed living room
-Showered and finally shaved leg forest
-Baked a loaf of bread
-Loaded the dishwasher and ran

Left to do:
-Prep food for tonight
-Bathe and flea dog
-Bathe W
-Figure out what to wear tonight and tomorrow
-Finish packing
-Oil change car

You know what I’d like to be doing? Nothing. No wait, I’d rather be hanging with friends, drinking holiday cocktails, stuffing myself stupid with foodstuffs, kissing under the mistletoe, playing board games or charades, etc. Sigh.

W is so stoked about Santa coming tonight and we’ve used the bearded fable as a way to discipline him by saying he doesn’t want to be on Santa’s bad boys and girls list, get coal in his stocking (“What’s coal, mommy?), etc. After the holiday passes I’m wondering how I’m going to get the great results I’ve been getting for the last few months? I don’t think the threat of a baby new year, a cupid or the Easter bunny will have any affect on him. Guess I’ll go back to the flyswatter.

Happy holidays y’all.

Sloth and Gluttony

2008-12-21T11:45:00.001-06:00

I sit in the kitchen surfing the net and reading the New York Times online while the Hubs hovers in the soft glow of his laptop at the dining room table. W is on the couch watching Monster Jam clips on my iPhone. We are disgustingly high tech and fully engaged here. Jazz music plays in the background and heated dry air billows from the vents as it has once again gotten cold outside. We don’t have many plans today which is as a Sunday should be. Tuscan kale soup is on the lunch menu and tuna will be on our dinner plates later. All is well.

DO YOU EVER…

2008-12-18T19:41:00.001-06:00

-Dress in the morning and think to yourself, “I’m looking really good…rowr,” only to pass by the full length mirror later in the day and think, “Ugh, I look like hell! What was I thinking?”

-Consider pinning a note to your child that says, “Merry Christmas, I’m yours!” and sending him/her to the elderly couple living next door?

-Think back to the time when you were pissed that you could stick one pencil between your butt cheek and your thigh and it stayed but now you can stick a whole package back there and it stays?

-Wish that all of your bras didn’t need to be padded?

-Hope that Benicio del Toro will call you on the phone because he “needed to hear your voice?”

-Think you sing really, really well…in the shower?

-Pretend you are talking on your cell phone or turn to talk to your child in the back seat while the homeless guy tries to wash your windshield?

-Hide somewhere in the house and jump out and scare the beejeebus out of a family member?

-Pop open the perfume inserts in magazines and lay them about while flying on an airplane and sitting next to someone with body odor?

-Wave to the security camera in stores or at the ATM?

-Answer a question with a question and keep doing it?

Yeah, me neither.

Holi-Daze

2008-12-16T10:37:00.003-06:00

Thanks to the unwavering desire of my son we start each and every day watching Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. It used to be my all time favorite holiday show and now, well, let’s just say I’d love to have that little effer’ on my dinner table come Christmas eve, red nose and all. W’s seen it so many times now I can leave the sound almost all the way down. He’s pretty much memorized all of the dialogue. When the show came on several weeks back I looked forward to watching it with him and the moment when the not so scary abominable snow monster roared his menacing roar and poked his head out from behind the cardboard icebergs, scaring the beejeebus out of W. Now he just yells at him and tells him he’s not so scary without teeth. He sings the theme song, adlibbing all the way through while including decorations on our tree…”you could even say it glows like the star and the red car and the purple ball and the snow man…” Too much of what was once a good thing is now as bad as fruit cake. I guess I could erase the program from the DVR listings but I really don’t want to start my day by thinking of what cocktail goes best with French toast.

Back in November I bought several boxes of gingerbread houses to give to the ankle biters in the family to take home and put together. W and I talked at length about how we would decorate our first edible dwelling. We ooohed and ahhhed over the image of the one on the box and marveled at the detailing. There was even a video we could watch online to aid us in our construction. Much to my chagrin after much waiting and dreaming I opened the box to find that both of the roof pieces were broken. We were gung ho about the operation so we both agreed we’d forge ahead and mend our roof with the more than adequate amount of icing included. W watched me put up the walls of the sugary structure but that was about the extent of his participation. All he really wanted was to eat the smaller pieces laying about. I let him eat the snowman and soon after he was sitting on the couch watching a show as I hammered away at this fading holiday moment. He showed just about as much interested while (not) helping me decorate the tree a few weeks back. He sat his tiny butt on the sofa and periodically remarked, “Hey mommy, that’s beautiful!” or “Hey mommy, that’s so pretty!” Totally hands off, totally like his dad. So the gingerbread house was a bust as you can see.

We’ve really gotten in to hibernation mode in the purple house. Ever since the first cold snap several weeks back it’s been hard to stay out from under many various blankets thrown here and there. When the sun goes down we all eyeball the stairs in anticipation of racing up them to the snuggly nest above. We don’t encourage W to sleep with us but his tiny furnace of a body is welcomed these chilly nights. Thank goodness we don’t have a fireplace or we’d me MIA all winter’s long.

Table For One

2008-12-14T16:29:00.006-06:00

Do you know what “bliss” is these days (I’m referring to the days that currently label me as stay-at-home mom and assistant to a very busy/disorganized husband)? “Bliss” is going to the Dollar General store ALONE and having a long lunch at your friendly neighborhood Mexican restaurant ALONE. By the way, the money saving tip of the day is to visit your neighborhood Dollar General store for many of the things you pay full price for at your regular full price paying haunts. They’ve got tons of cheap stuff, some pretty neat stocking stuffers for the kiddos and there’s usually never anyone in the place. Never mind the surly checkout girl in the blinding yellow vest or the poor homeless fella who you wished was hanging out by the air fresheners and not the trash bag isle where the low priced Hefty Cinch Sacks are that you need. I got in the habit of frequenting the Dollar General in Marfa where the tunes were great and the staff was super-friendly. Besides there wasn’t another option in town for brooms, Matchbox Cars and curtains.

The restaurant I go to has two televisions programmed to the same station. I like this because they are in Spanish and I try to keep up but mostly I marvel at the skimpy outfits these incredibly attractive Latinas are wearing as they host their talk shows. Their teeth are as white as marshmallows and their grins, huge. That’s almost as distracting as their figures and fashion choice of the day. I look past them at the other people on the set, usually some sort of fly girls in equally skimpy clothing and one or two additional male hosts, and everyone acts like this sexiness is totally normal, that a bare midriff and tatas up to there with those lipsticked porno mouths is normal and I think that’s SO rad. And if I was that hot, I’d totally dress like that, too.

There’s a feeling that almost overwhelms me when I dine alone in the middle of the day. With my book in my hand and my Diet Coke just arms length away, I am just me. I’m not disciplining anyone, not tending to anybody’s needs, not sharing a morsel and it kinda rocks. I don’t even have to look around the room. I’m in my little bubble of lunchtime glee. I switch between reading my book and deciphering what the Latina sex goddess on TV is saying about children in need or something. And that is all. When the waitress comes over to ask if I need anything else I almost say, “A hug.”

I think I need to get out more.

Good Things

2008-12-12T12:24:00.010-06:00

W, after being run over by his Bigfoot monster truck, still tends to the needs of his tiny purple ponies and Jelly Cat. Awwwww...

Last night’s dinner and the night before: Wednesday we slurped wintry vegetable soup that the Hubs liked about at much as wearing underwear. I thought it was good but without the toasted crostini topped with goat cheese and chives afloat in the bowl it would’ve been a little too boring. Last night the Hubs pan seared some Hawaiian Orange Nairagi fillets, nuked a couple sweet yellow potatoes and we finished the meal with a beet, goat cheese and spinach salad. Very simple, very good. Tonight we’re warming our innards on rigatoni swimming in hot sausage and fennel. Add to that some crusty bread, a juicy red wine and we’ll be ready for a long winter’s nap.

Today’s money saving tip: Actually I have two…one is to unplug all appliances, etc. that you aren’t actively using to reduce your electric bill. Of course the Hubs forgets about this one and is often waiting for lengthy spells for the water to boil in the electric kettle.

The other tip is to give homemade holiday gifts this year. Yesterday my aunt who lives in nearby Oatmeal demystified the art of canning for me. We made a myriad of jams and a jelly which will be part of my gift giving collection. I am finding an irresistible urge to make goodies from the home and heart this year. Probably the only good thing coming out of this recession for me.

Random thoughts: I wondered the other night while putting a Spongebob Squarepants band-aid on my thumb after slicing it open with a serrated bread knife why, before I had my son, didn’t I ever stock my bathroom shelves with whimsical band-aids? They actually make me feel a little bit better than putting on one of the nondescript flesh toned stickies.

I’ve always wanted the smell of my laundry to be the envy of friends and family but thus far to no avail. Downey without a doubt reminds me of my Granny so I can’t use that one. I like being periodically reminded of her when I stand downwind of someone’s softened threads. I remember hearing on NPR about a recently completed documentary on wives of deceased soldiers who anxiously awaited their husband’s garments from the front lines so they could bury their noses in the essence of their flesh only to find everything had been previously washed and smelled like Tide. How heartbreaking.

W just peed on my jeans because I forgot to place his front-end business in the proper place while he pooped. Nice.

Happy Friday everyone!

iLove

2008-12-10T15:39:00.007-06:00

Before I went to Marfa I purchased an iPhone. I needed the reliable AT&T service down in the bowels of Texas. I don’t think the Sprint folks even know that part of Texas exists because I could never get service via them with my old phone. I also needed a way to be able to keep in contact with everyone involved with the project out there while roaming the 8+ acres and neighboring towns. One of the best features of the phone is the YouTube icon which is W’s favorite. He easily figured out how to manipulate each screen to get to the YouTube option and can now waste many hours watching video after video of monster jam action. This comes in handy when meals at restaurants get too long or I have a lengthy grocery store list to fulfill. The down side is that all of the videos he likes come with really bad clips of music that have now lodged in W’s large noggin’ and he sings them all in succession many times a day. They are George Thorogood’s “Bad To The Bone”, Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out”, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” and some horrible teen angst tune about not wanting to live. It’s bad enough that W’s vocabulary is laced with monster truck names like Grave Digger, El Toro Loco, Monster Mutt, Predator, and Backdraft (among many others) but then you toss in those little scores sung aloud by a three-year-old and I am often just inches away from that “drinking in the closet thing” I’ve written about before. In W’s room there is no less than 20-25 monster trucks and lately he’s been asking for Santa to bring him a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer monster truck. Santa better get on that one pronto.

I never owned an iPod prior to the one on the iPhone and it has just about changed my life. Wherever we are I can dial in W’s sleepy time music to ease him into dreamland. When we go walking I can stick it in my pocket or in the stroller and we’ve got theme music to move to. Of course there’s the ever-popular spontaneous dance party and when the iPod is on shuffle and kicks out a series of the most appropriate tunes I call it the “iPod del Fuego!” Grrrr! It comes in handy on long drives and I have found that I can stick those little white ear buds in my ears and successfully tune out the tot for about 100 miles at a time. Yeay!

Let’s not forget emailing, instant messaging, iMeditate, Spanish Word of the Day, Bright and Beyond Preschool Playtime Activities, iMoods, and that every popular camera feature. This is something else W has mastered on the iPhone. He has quite the eye for a knee high budding photographer and has captured some great images. Take a look here and in the top right corner of the blog. Cool, no?

Leftovers

2008-12-09T16:13:00.011-06:00

Last night's dinner: leftovers from Friday night which was Eggplant and Spinach Lasagne Spirals. I’ve been making these since the recipe came out in 2002. It’s very time consuming but well worth the effort and the presentation is unique for lasagne.

Today's money saving tip: shop at your neighborhood Goodwill. I spent about an hour there today combing through the kids clothes. Thank goodness the music they pipe in is decent because the place has the odor of neglect and abuse and makes it hard for me to breathe. I did find some great shirts and long johns for W for about two bones a piece and scored on a Junk Food brand “I’m A Pepper” t-shirt in my size and in great shape that would normally retail for about $20. Let me say that the young girls clothing selection is the best and so are the newborn options because infants wear their stuff for like 7 minutes before they’ve outgrown it so at Goodwill that stuff is in superb shape. Take some time on your lunch break, put on some scented lipgloss to mask the stale air there and dig in. I bet you’ll find something you can’t live without.

So since I’m not working and the Hubs is now home we’re getting to spend much more time together. This is both good and bad. This morning it was nice to drop off the tot at school together and then head to town lake to walk for about an hour with the dog but you would’ve never guessed the Hubs was going to be my athletic partner in crime. He was wearing his super skinny pencil leg jeans with Doc Martins as ankle weights and his rocker looking Ray Bans. I had to beg him to leave his bajillion dollar leather jacket behind because, seriously, I didn’t want to exercise with Johnny Cash. Towards the end of the hike I was certain his hiney was going to flame up from the friction he was complaining about back there. Good times with more to come.

Here are some pics from our days in Marfa...

The Long And Winding Road

2008-12-08T12:53:00.008-06:00

It’s time I get back to the self indulgent writing exercise known as blogging. The original intent of profiling my fish bowl existence with W and the Hubs in the beginning was to keep from forgetting all of the good, bad and funny details as they whip by. At W’s ripe old age of 3, I’m finding there’s more fodder than ever before so it’s essential that the documentation continue. I want to have bragging rights when I can’t even remember my own name and have taken up residency at an assisted living compound for rock n roll widows. Question is will I remember the blog URL when I’m 80?

To briefly recap the summer, I reorganized the family unit, abandoned the Hubs and took a job in Marfa, TX, with toddler in tow. 5 months we were gone. It was glorious and challenging and beautiful and strange. I never did get W a nanny (hard to find in a town of 2,000) thus we spent TONS of quality time together. I did get him a lovely Australian Shepherd puppy that he named Ruby Tuesday, after the little cartoon Max & Ruby and the Rolling Stones tune. I needed an additional distraction for W and a new companion for me as well. As the months zoomed by I oversaw the installation of a well, an irrigation system, enough electric to power a small town, a septic system, and demolition of the home on the property. Never did I’d ever dream I’d learn about such things, a complete departure from event planning yet I found many similarities as well. Every day was an event, a chance to learn something new and it got my gerbil on a treadmill of a brain going and growing. W embraced his new surroundings and learned about tarantulas, rattlesnakes, tumbleweeds, yurts, constellations, and all sorts of life-sized construction equipment. He had 8 acres on which to roam and explore. He was never bored. Plus the community in Marfa is a true one in the sense of the word. Everyone rallies and plays together. We constantly cooked out together, ate together, met for drinks often and energized the local grapevine with gossip. In the end though, it was good to finally get off of the proverbial “island” and come home to the Hubs and our lovely home although someday I hope to return and work with those amazing folks again. Our days now are filled with getting re-acclimated, a Tuesday/Thursday school schedule, a Wednesday a.m. art class and playing catch up with the Hubs who left for 3.5 weeks about a week and a half after we returned home from our adventure.

I guess that just about catches us up, doesn’t it? Reach out and ask questions if I’ve missed anything.

Let’s tune in now to real time, where at this very moment W is peddling for his life on this…

A Christmas gift from Gogo and her awesome sig other. It’s called a Smart Cycle and I give it 5 stars. It’s great b/c he can dial it in himself without any parental assistance and he’s getting both physical and mental exercise. Anything that allows him the chance to be independent is cool with me especially since W is still suffering from a serious case of mommy-centricity and loathes being out of my orbit. Completely exhausting.

With time on my hands I have already updated my goals for 2009 list, which I will periodically profile as the New Year approaches and beyond. Writing about the lofty personal expectations will help keep me accountable. In 2008 I proved to myself that if I dream big and put my fears aside I am completely able to navigate through various self-imposed challenges and come out the other end in a much better state than I expected. I mean, that’s all easier said than done, right? I’m ready to do that again times 10 but in a way, I’m starting from scratch with no job at the moment and technically, the Hubs isn’t employed either. His new record doesn’t come out until the spring and who knows what will come of it (but I have high hopes since it TOTALLY RULES!). This a scary place in which to begin.

In the coming blog entries, I will highlight any money saving techniques we’re practicing, kid-friendly craft ideas and what’s on the menu around here. We love to cook and that’s something we’ll always burn our cash on.

So hello to all. It’s good to be back.

Moving Forward (And Happy Earth Day)

2008-04-22T16:14:00.002-05:00

Well, we’ve had some nice success getting W to settle in his own bed each night after we read something like 700 books to him. It’s partly my fault since I’m also trying to wean myself from our “snuggling with the Simpson’s” routine. Each book is more time spent with the funny little love bug. He awoke the other morning minutes after 5 a.m. (yeah, I was hatin’ it) talking on and on about flying on airplanes where “they give you cookies and they give you crackers and they give you toys.” Oh, how I wished at that moment he was actually on said plane and not babbling on with the sunrise two long hours away. But I’m acclimating myself as I mentally prepare for many days of very much quality time with him when we move. I mean, I’ll secure a nanny for sure when we get there but ultimately it’s just me and him and sometimes the Hubs when he can make it out. I’m preparing a photo album for him of our house here, friends from school and family members so we can talk about them everyday. I’m putting an Art Box together for him so we can have creative time often. I envision our house off Hwy 67 covered in his genius, which is purely fitting since Marfa is an art mecca. Maybe I’ll host an art opening for W’s new friends there and they can come check out his work while sipping juice boxes, munching on Veggie Booty and listening to Of Montreal sing “I Want To Have Fun”. Yeah, we’re gonna fit right in.

Tomorrow is my last day at the office. Today my officemates surprised me with a plastic bucket filled with sunscreen, bug bite meds, baby wipes, a sewing kit, a map of Texas with the route between here and there highlighted, band aids, a flashlight with a blinking “Find Me” LED and an Us Weekly. Several things I can take off my shopping list now.

Heading out of town on Thursday to go suss out the details of our journey to come. Finally get to see the state of the job site, see the house where we will be living and finally come up with a timeline for all. Let’s get this party started already.

Regrowth

2008-04-18T10:50:00.002-05:00

Yesterday the Hubs picked up W from school and I had the chance to do whatever I wanted to do when I got off work (go to Target! shoe shopping! Sephora! read!) but instead I went home and pulled weeds until my fingers cramped. The early evening was cloudy, a bit breezy, perfect weather to hunker down in the beds and dig. But it was more than digging and tugging and cursing the gnarly roots. I was deep in thought, buried in curiosities, fears, excitement and responsibilities of the weeks to come. It was blissful and I look forward to my next adventure providing me the many opportunities to work and think, work and reflect, work and enjoy instead of being twisted up about a five mile traffic jam, a long line at the post office, or a person driving out of turn at my neighborhood 5-way stop. Yeah, that one really gets in my crawl. I will be forced to slow down and really smell the yucca (while keeping an eye out for snakes and loose dogs and scorpions). Really can’t wait.

On the home front we are trying to correct a wrong that we thought was oh so cute and convenient (i.e. we were being lazy) and get our son to sleep at a reasonable hour IN HIS OWN BED. It all happened by default, thanks to Miss Jo who came over last night bearing gifts. After dinner, the conversation spun to W’s sleeping habits and she very matter of factly said you need to put him to bed between 8 and 9 and Hubs why don’t you do it now or something like that. I cringed inside knowing W hadn’t really eaten his dinner but there’s no time like the present, right? Books were read, PJs were donned and protests were heard. The Hubs finally emerged from the bedroom as W whipped himself in a frenzy that lasted half an hour (or what seemed like an eternity for me) before he was quiet, exhausted by his efforts to get someone's attention. Miss Jo hung around until it was over probably knowing full well that I would’ve gone in to his room to rescue him and be the hero. W slept through the night if you consider “waking at 5 a.m. and ready to get the day started” sleeping through the night. But I’m committed to making this work and the Hubs is committed to being the bedtime person and I will pick up the slack when he’s not home. Besides our relationship could use a shot in the arm and having that evening time together is just what Miss Jo ordered.

Hells Yeah

2008-04-17T10:52:00.003-05:00

Well folks, you know sometimes dreams do come true.

I’ve blogged about that little speck on the map of Texas called Marfa many times, yearned to be out there and be a part of its great vastness/artiness/solitude. Well…careful what you wish for. I’ve landed a gig “managing” a campground/yurt/Spartan trailer community there this summer, a project that needs a little kick in the Toughskins so it will be up and running soon (of course, “soon” in Marfa is a relative term). The details are still being fleshed out but the plans are coming together. In the meantime, I’ve set the course to become a seasonal employee at my current place of employment (thank you, thank you, thank you) and am gently and thoughtfully unraveling our roots here to take up temporary residence there. It’s a little scary making these changes…taking W out of school for four months, cobbling together a network of toddler-friendly resources for him out there, setting up camp in the middle of nowhere…but it will be an adventure and it’s not like I’m harnessing up the mules to the covered wagon and heading west to look for gold with the fear of starvation and Indian mayhem looming on the horizon. The tot and I have a home to live in while there and the Hubs will be with us when he’s not playing shows (and with two booking agents making those calls there seems to be plenty of shows) but everyone should put this funky, fabulous part of our fair state on their radar for the summer and come see us. It’s pretty awesome there.

Share And Share Alike

2008-04-09T14:07:00.002-05:00

This morning W absconded with the squirt bottle I use to wet my hair. He figured out how to get the nozzle to project water and spent about 15 minutes drenching his face, the walls, the bed and his hair. I tried to make him go easy on the soakage but decided there were better battles to fight as his protests could be heard in Abilene. When all was said and done he set the bottle on the bathroom floor and said, “Thank you for sharing, mama.” Oh, the guilt 'cause I really wanted him to just cut it out already.

Ham Bone

2008-04-09T11:16:00.016-05:00

I got this shirt for W at Goodwill. Three whole dollars it cost. Love Goodwill for toddler clothes but CANNOT stand the smell of that place. Someone needs to donate some air fresheners to them. Thankfully the red marker from a school art project at the bottom of the top will wash out.

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, he enjoys his bath. I had to get proof on film (do people still say that?) to show him later.

These are his cousins from KY. I wish you could hear the eldest one's accent. It is the syrupy country drawl of a Southern belle. The little Mia Farrow double is as tough as a bull. When she comes to tag you and yell, "You it!" she leaves a bruise.

Aunt Angie, Jelly Cat is still W's stuffed animal of choice. Sure hope we don't ever lose him.

Milestones And Regressions

2008-04-07T15:33:00.000-05:00

-“No, I don’t want (specific item)…I want, I want (specific item)!” - Oh, how I love my son and oh, how he can drive completely insane. Is it normal for him to be the most conflicted, wishy-washy tike on the planet?

-“You’re the BAD GUY, mommy!” This is what he says to me when he’s mad at me. I’ve been the bad guy a lot lately.

-This morning he was looking for a key to his toy suitcase and he remembered that it was outside on the lawn chair. HE remembered! Pretty freakin’ awesome milestone.

-‘Memba that haircut I mentioned he needed to tame his expanding mullet? Yeah, well that trip went really bad. He screamed and cried the entire time. I’ve since had to work on his noggin’ while he naps.

-We’re back to a battle of wills in the bathtub. I’m sure the neighbors think I’m skinning him alive.

-What was W’s food of choice all day yesterday? Cheerios. All. Friggin’. Day. Oh, and what time did he finally go down for his nap. 6:30 p.m. Yeah, we got this sleeping thing all figured out. Not.

-W surprised us yesterday when he actually hit his giant plastic baseball with his giant plastic bat several times. The Hubs was an impressive pitcher, too. I mean, it takes guts to stand two feet in front of a tot swinging a bat.

Hump Day Catch Up

2008-04-02T12:24:00.002-05:00

Monday morning at the office began with a power surge so strong it knocked out our email until just this morning. Several client emails so far have alluded to the fact that I “must be on vacation” and they hope I’m having fun wherever I am! But no, I’ve been sitting here for the past 2 days twiddling me thumbs. Boring. The office did take a field trip yesterday to the Shoe Pavilion. What a collection of ugly shoes, or so I thought.

So here’s a pile of the latest news:

-Went home this past weekend to attend my grandmother’s funeral. Tons of family there and folks I hadn’t seen in ages. Everyone’s either gotten much older or has procreated and both are interesting phenomena to me. The faces of the elderly have changed dramatically but their eyes and the sounds of their voices reveal who they are so clearly. The faces of the children resemble their parents in an almost cartoonish but beautiful way. We all had a good laugh at the little people we have brought in to the family over the years. I had volunteered to do a reading at the service and it turned out to be the lengthiest and verbally challenging. I had a few minutes to read through it but was a bit nervous knowing I’m terribly Bible verse challenged. When cued, I wandered up to the pulpit, bowed as instructed, positioned the mic (which promptly flopped forward and thumped loudly on to the actual Bible) and took a deep breath. I started off smoothly but soon the words began to swim together and I stumbled over the big ones never used in the English language and barely made it through. As soon as I joined the Hubs back at my seat, he leaned over and whispered, “Sobriety test.”

-W got to spend lots of time with his two cousins from Kentucky. The girls flank him in age on either side and so they made for a mighty team. Meanwhile the rest of us played Wii ‘til our arms hurt. What happen to working on a puzzle as a family activity? Lo impact, less cursing in front of the children.

-On Monday evening I relinquished my beloved Xterra to CarMax. It was a bittersweet separation but completely necessary knowing that the mileage was high, that it needed some pricy repairs and that I had a car payment due on Saturday. W and I hung out there for nearly four long hours. Thank goodness they are cool with tots running amok and keep in mind, too, that every time I test drove a car, I had to reinstall the carseat. Nice. The Volvo wagon I had my heart set on turned out to be junky and worn out cosmetically. The newer Xterras seemed so cheaply manufactured compared to my solid ’01. I was still totally in love with a gas guzzling SUV (I know, it’s so wrong) and ended up driving a Pathfinder off the lot. It’s like an Xterra with chest hair…leather, deep tinted windows, all power, 4WD, Bose system, etc. Crappy gas mileage so I guess I’ll forgo all overpriced franchised coffee stops and buy some carbon credits instead. Totally serious about that.

-The Hubs is in the studio again all week so W and I are an exclusive duo. Tonight we’ll be heading to the rock n’roll chop shop to get W’s ‘do done. He looks like a Monkee band member reject. Pics to come.

Spring Dun Sprung

2008-03-26T15:44:00.002-05:00

Days at the office are very sloooooow now that the conference has left the building. We collectively fill the hours with tons of web surfing. Don’t know how many times I click on the craigslist.org “pets” link to see all of those unwanted animals…dogs, cats, geckos, horses, potbelly pigs…needing homes. I imagine adopting all of them and then I imagine divorce papers promptly arriving. I seek out toddler beds, patio umbrellas, black sling back flats and catch up on the news in Marfa. Oh, Marfa is my boyfriend. Soon we will be together (more on that another time).

Lately the Hubs has been locked away in his studio poking at the corners of his mind for song lyrics. The band will be recording again soon, an effort to wrap up the newest record, and he needs material. In the meantime, W and I bide our time bonding over Matchbox cars and books. Lots of books. It’s pretty awesome when he knows the words of a story and blurts them out along with me like he can read already. At night when he yells, “Nuggle time, mama. Wets go uptairs,” we huddle under the covers like giddy campers under the stars. He plays with his cars (“Okay! Nice to see you. Have a good weekend!”) while I sink deep in the pages of a book. Over the weekend, I finished Running With Scissors…totally too weird for me…and right now I’m reading a book I probably shouldn’t be…Deep End Of The Ocean by Jacquelyn Mitchard. It’s really good but about a 3-year-old boy who is kidnapped. I find it pleasing on a certain level to be able to relate to the mother character now that I have a son. The book is much more compelling this way. Next on the bedside table reading list is The Wonder Spot by Melissa Banks. I enjoyed her first book so I hope this one is on the same level.

Don’t want to forget to give some mad props to Mother Nature who has very recently decided to turn our formerly shades of grey city into a Technicolor playground. Spring is definitely in the air and it sure looks purdy.

This Is How We Parent

2008-03-20T12:31:00.002-05:00

This morning W ate three bowls of peanut butter cereal. Yeah, I feed my 2.5 year-old all the Jiff flavored kernels he can stuff in his belly…but it’s the organic kind with panda bears on the box and the proceeds go to protect the furry creatures and the box is made of recycled paper and there are no harmful ingredients in the balls of peanut buttery goodness…so it’s totally okay, right?

The Hubs and I raise our tot with boundaries while letting him have the freedom to be himself, however painful that can sometimes be. We both are (sorta) cool with the fact he’s a night owl and rather than force him in to bed at an early hour, a task that proves hard and exhausting for everyone, we let him stay up to watch the Simpsons with us. Yep, that’s 10 p.m., folks, and quality programming, no? The theme song comes on and he sprints to the bed like a frat boy to the bar at last call. He laughs along with us at the jokes he can’t understand and then asks, “Whas happening, momma?” I can’t remember what I watched when I was 2.5 so I don’t think this will scar him in any way.

We’ve found ourselves with the issue of a tot who wakes in the middle of the night and is in the habit of climbing in to bed with us, which usually ends with the Hubs finishing his dreams in the downstairs bedroom. Bad. Bad. W wakes and sleepily asks for his monster truck and where his daddy is and then points with authority in the direction of the stairs, his eyes still closed. I was able to get him back to sleep in his own bed last night but he still somehow ended up in our bed. I don’t recall bringing him up but I’m sure I’m the guilty party.

W had an “accident” in the bath last night. As the two turd logs drifted to the bottom of the tub, he screamed, big tears filled his eyes and he scrambled up the walls of slippery porcelain like piranha were chewing off his toes. He was totally embarrassed and freaked. I felt bad for him and explained that everything was okay but he needed to tell me when he had to poop (oh how I loathe poop talk). We’re not at the potty training stage yet but it’s looming on the horizon of his upcoming summer. Joy. His school is initiating it so I guess we gotta hold up our end of the booty bargain. It will be nice to have him out of those expensive landfill cloggers but they’re sooooo convenient. Oh well.

It’s great to be back at home and handling the challenges of a growing child. It’s not unlike event planning actually. You can plan and prepare in advance all you want, hammer on details and get certain items in order but you never know what the client is really going to want until you’re actually together onsite. Such is the same with a toddler.

Pushing The Reset Button

2008-03-19T14:19:00.004-05:00

As the working like a dog fog of the past two weeks fades into the distance I am able to start thinking about all the “free” time I now have and how it will be consumed. I am a junkie freak for activity, the fighter of inertia and must keep up some sort of velocity. I'm a sicko.

The weeds in the flowerbeds taunt me as I walk by each morning with their little leaves waving in the breeze but soon I will be armed with long, silver tools to yank them out of the earth with more satisfaction than is considered normal. The shocking orange paint in the kitchen will be changed to something more digestible. Curtains will be made and furniture replaced. My truck, the one that went in for an oil change this morning and was diagnosed with pricy leaks here and there, will be traded in. CarMax here I come. There are yoga classes I have yet to attend. Oh, how I need them. And trips to Marfa to be made. So I look at the calendar and fill in the days with to dos and classes and trips and tasks. I really don’t know what it means to do nothing, to just sit and relax but I guess I could pencil that in on the calendar as well.

More pics of W in all his growing, growth spurt glory. He's already rockin' an awesome tan.

La Vie en Chaos

2008-03-18T14:06:00.005-05:00

Why did I ever stop blogging? How am I going to remember all of the details of W's last three months? Remember all of the ugly and beautiful minutiae of life leading up to now? I felt uninspired after Christmas, overwhelmed by my job, bored by the monotony of the week’s routine. But wonderful things happened and sad things happened and the hardest part of my job happened and here we are now.

The holidays. I have to look at my calendar to remember. Family came together for the celebration in my hometown. My granny surprised me with a visit from West Virginia, my father surprised me as well and I got to spend some time with my grandmother in her majestic home not knowing it would be the last time I’d see her.

New Years. The Hubs played a gig in Arkansas, outside, in 20-degree weather. I, very smartly, chose to stay home and watched the fireworks at midnight from my bedroom window.

January. Worked hard and prepared for the events that happened in March.

February. New York for Fashion Week with my sister-in-law. Backstage at the Diane Von Furstenberg show, front row for the Angel Sanchez show, gazed dreamily at the jaw-dropping collection designed by, crap, I can’t remember his name, and stood across from Tyra Banks and Nigel Barker (who is stunning in person, ladies, edible) at the Jill Stuart show. The month ended with hour-long conference calls and a workload from hell. And there was also a totally fun Oscar party, a Pillow Fight Club match at the Beauty Bar and Friday evenings at Salvation Pizza with the foxy collective of parents and tots from W’s school.

March. 98 parties in 9 days, high profile clients, low profile me, keeping my nose to the grindstone and my poor crippled feet under the faucet in the tub. Hotel living is for the birds, especially when you have to do it in the city you live in but it’s a necessary evil. Life gets in the way of work during this time. My deepest regards to all the family and friends that helped me, the Hubs, and W get through it all.

My dear grandmother passed away last Thursday morning. It was good I was the first warm body to the convention center office so I could grieve alone. She was an amazing, caring woman with a heart of gold. My fondest childhood memories are of her and the home she opened up to us and the neighborhood rugrats we brought to her door. Her last words were, “Where in the hell’s that orange juice?” Grandmother, you are truly missed.

So this weekend I am off with the fam to the beach. I need some serious RnR but I promise to keep blogging, to keep up with the details of W’s milestones and happenings in our little world because lord knows I can’t remember it all. Afterall, this is for him.

Holiday Spirited

2007-12-19T09:53:00.000-06:00

Well hello there! Are you ready for Christmas? Got all your gifts bought, wrapped and stuffed under the tree or shipped off to family and friends? You do? Really? Yeah, well I’m screwed. I thought I had budgeted enough time the last few weeks to get everything done before heading off to see family but I’m just too pooped lately to take advantage of every minute not spent at work, doing an event or wrestling the tot to get this holiday thing under way. In those free moments, I just want to crawl under the covers and disappear. Now I’m taking my lunch breaks at Best Buy and Massage Envy and Toy Joy. Hooray for me.

The hubs and I had a crappy date night earlier in the week. We went to one of our favorite places to eat where we know the owner and like to kibbutz back and forth with him during a delicious feast but we ended up making total asses out of ourselves as we proceeded to drink too much hooch and argue. One minute I’m feeding him dessert and the next we’ve basically cleared the bar area where we were dining. Was totally easy after I yelled “DIVORCE!” in the middle of a sentence I was spatting at the Hubs. He was up for the challenge, too, I guess. He didn’t back off either. We’re so classy. I ended up storming out and the Hubs followed after paying the bill and asking the hostess, “Which way did she go (insert giant hiccup here)?” Nice. The owner didn’t charge us for any of the wine. Not sure why. I would’ve charged us double. Don’t think we’ll be going back there for a while. FYI - we were totally laughing about it all the next morning.

Over the holidays, I’ll try and get some posts up. Always much to tell during this time of the year.

Adios.

Ringo Moon

2007-12-14T08:46:00.000-06:00

This is getting serious. He even does those weird mouth ticks when he gets in a groove.

Smash Mash Crash

2007-12-07T15:31:00.001-06:00

Pile up on the Play-Doh highway. Yes, that's BROWN Play-Doh. As a kid I never had it so good. Brown Play-Doh in 1976 meant it ended up in the yard somehow.

W made a "cupcake" with the brown stuff after clearing the collision and knowing that he loves to blow out candles, I stuck in one of those candles that relights itself after being extinguished. At first W laughed his diaper off at the mysterious phenomenon but then it started to spook him. It wasn't long before he was standing on the other side of the kitchen and refusing to sing Happy Birthday one more time and blow the candle out.

What? You don't let your tot lie on the kitchen counter in his diaper with his head resting on a dish towel while eating a Funyun? Yeah, remember those? LOVE Funyuns. Onion flavored corn chip shaped like a method of birth control. Rock!

This is what I get to hang with at the end of a busy work day. I like him way more than Funyuns.

Foodie

2007-12-06T08:34:00.000-06:00

I just devoured the book "My Life In France" by Julia Childs and Alex Prud’homme. Such a lovely read. Her point of view of everything French is very frank yet affectionate. The depths at which she dedicated herself to French cuisine are inspiring especially considering the interesting obstacles she faced. Read for yourself. You won’t regret it.

I was fortunate enough to be exposed to the French world of food at an early age. During my elementary school years my mom was the assistant to our neighbor who hosted French cooking classes for many years. I remember fondly her open-air kitchen filled with shiny copper mixing bowls and loads of pots and pans. The essence of brioche, boeuf bourguignon and omelettes shrouded the room always. Her handmade recipe booklets created for each class littered the countertops. I remember hearing the hearty and grateful laughter of the women as they said their goodbyes after class and climb into their cars on the circular drive. This also signaled that mom would be home soon with treats for us to try.

At home, there were afternoons spent perched on stools next to the stove as mom and I made many crêpes for sweet and savory dishes. Side by side, like little robots, we'd dip the bottom side of the hot crêpe pan in batter and then rest it on the metal ring that outlined the flame of the burner. When the edges of the flat pancake started to brown and lift, it was time to gently coaxed it off the pan and onto the heap of crêpes kept warm under a moist towel. I also learned how to whisk eggs, kneed bread, pipe pâte à choux onto a baking sheet and then fill it with a homemade sweet custard topped with a melted dark chocolate after baking. Heavenly.

We also had a gourmet kitchen supply shop and deli called The Mouse Trap. There I savored exotic cheeses, olives, pates, mustards and chocolates from around the world. This was 1981 in a very small town. When I get a whiff of a certain perfume (name unknown) these days, I am immediately back in the little shop making sandwiches and running the register for the moneyed folks and food adventurous in my hometown.

In my preteen years, mom transitioned to a funny little place in Longview, Texas called The Stock Pot. It was owned by a gaggle of aristocratic, super wealthy ladies who loved chef superstars and having them teach classes. What a coup it was for mom. There she helped stuff an enormous baked Alaska in a small oven with the 6-foot 2-inch Julia Childs, cranked out homemade pasta with Giuliano Bugialli while beating off the affectionate advances of his personal assistant and towered over the smallish Wolfgang Puck. When I go home for the upcoming holidays, I will be getting all of her cookbooks, some of them signed and most of them with the stains of meals prepared long ago. I look forward to ending the year pouring over their pages and beginning 2008 with a laundry list of new dishes to try.

Bon appétit!

Sprout

2007-12-05T11:34:00.000-06:00

Monday morning as the Hubs tried to dress W for school, the tot protested and proclaimed, “I wanna wear a dress! I wanna wear a dress!” Tears streamed down his cheeks as we stared at each other in shock. I mean, I knew this day would come but so soon? Perhaps the desire originates from the makeup I let him use on occasion. He’s very good with eye shadow. My own little Ziggy Stardust.

How rapidly the kiddo is growing and his vocabulary is incredible. Listening to him verbalize his thoughts is a hoot. Latest sayings? Thoughts? Well, here they are…

“No pee pee in the bathtub.” Yes, son. You are the pee-er and there won’t be any in there if YOU don’t wee wee in it.

“No daddy (or mommy)! Go away!” This usually means you a) haven’t quite woken up yet, b) are taking a VW sized poop, c) need a cocktail. No wait, that’s me.

“C’mon daddy! Let’s play rock n roll!” Yes, this one makes the Hubs feel like a million dollars.

“That was scare-wee.” This said after falling off the bed. Again.

“I love mewsket!” Yes, you do love music.

Current songs he sings while playing the drums…
“The Robot Song” Customized from his thoughts on The Iron Giant, his current favorite flick.

“Bob Bu Da” A personalized version of Bob The Builder.

He’s afraid of it being dark in the house but not in his room. He slides his little chair under each switch and flicks them on and the house is as bright as a football field.

Word has it that W is a trendsetter at school. I was told that during the daily group sing-a-long where they chant something like, “1, 2, 3, say hello to Zeke” or something like that, W jumps up and does this wild breakdancing, donkey kick move when they call his name. Historically, the kiddos have remained seated and clapped like a PGA audience when acknowledging a classmate. W has taken it to 11. I couldn't expect anything less.

I Are Here

2007-11-30T14:33:00.001-06:00

Hello guests and readers of my blah, blah, blah. Forgive me for my tardiness. I sometimes type away at a blog entry but refuse to post it until I have pics to back it up which is a bad idea because I sometimes can’t get to downloading those needed pics.

I know Thanksgiving is a forgone thought in everyone’s minds now and you’re probably caught in the headlights of the Christmas highway already but to recap…we had a stupendous turkey day with my brother-in-law and his fam. Not only did this mean we had to do zero traveling over the holiday but it also meant that the food was guaranteed to be divine. My BIL (brother-in-law) could be a chef, should be, in fact and the Hubs and I are constantly harassing him on many occasions with questions in the midst of culinary chaos at home. For the grand feast we contributed the Italian sausage dressing and green beans in brown butter with oregano and pine nuts and the BIL prepared the heritage turkey with Marsala gravy, mashed potatoes with walnut oil, Hudson's on the Bend corn pudding, and of course, cranberry sauce. There were also homemade biscuits and yeast rolls. This is my plate before complete consumption. Burp.

As of late, we’re still wrestling the tot at bedtime. Actually it’s way after bedtime when we finally get him to sleep. After all the months and months and months of easily putting him to bed, saying goodnight and, at worse, shedding a few remorseful tears before conking out we’ve gone to the darkest side of hell. The silver lining is that I have had to relinquish bedtime duties to the Hubs who now puts W to bed and hangs with him ‘til he drifts off. Totally works for me. I was sound asleep by 9:30 p.m. last night. This was after I took myself on a date to Asti, sat at the bar and read (see updated “What I’m Reading List” for details). I sank into a bowl of duck rigatoni, beet and endive salad and two juicy glasses of wine. Perfect evening.

Speaking of the Hubs, seems as though W is finally taking a shine to him. Yeah, so it’s only taken about 26 months and the Hubs IS his dad, I promise. He’s finally realizing that he's Disneyland on legs. “I wanna fie, I wanna fie!” he says as the Hubs picks him up and swings him through the air. “C’mon, daddie, c’mon daddie, c’mon daddie” he repeats as he heads to his room. “Daddie play guitar!” he yells while sitting behind his little drum kit just about every morning. And for your viewing pleasure here’s daddy and W jamming away now…

The 'Ho Is Back

2007-11-20T12:41:00.000-06:00

Let the holiday ho’-ness begin, y’all! It is no secret that I’m a slut for the red and green and Christmas songs and Rudolph and gingerbread men and fat bearded men with fluffy white cuffs that call me by name…”Ho, ho, hooooo,” and mistletoe and spiked eggnog and twinkling colored lights. But on the flipside, I loathe the gift shopping for family and friends, loathe it like a pap smear so yesterday, on my lunch break, I hoofed it to Toys R Us to do Santa’s heavy lifting. The thought of venturing in there after Thanksgiving in hopes of finding even a couple of items to stuff under the tree makes me want to eat arsenic. So I blasted through the relatively quiet store like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep and I’m happy to report that I can now cross W off of my holiday gift list. The rest of my shopping will be done online because why in the hell would I go out in my car, deal with the traffic and cranky shoppers/cashiers/salespeople, and still not find what I’m looking for when I can get it with a click of the mouse and free shipping to boot? I’m also focusing on an eco-friendlier version of gifting this year ‘cause now that I got a kid, y’all need to be saving up some resources.

So it’s day 5 or so of Operation Omit Paci and other than a few requests for the missing paraphernalia the transition has been smooth. The only true fallout from the lifestyle change is W’s need to stay up late, like until 11 p.m. last night. He just hangs out in bed with me singing songs, reading books, playing with cars and channel surfing but it’s seriously cramping my style. I had a German subtitled flick to finish last night and it’s damn hard to read on a portable DVD player with a toddler driving a pickup with a horse trailer attached across your chest. Putting him in his bed is a terrible idea as he yells and screams my name over and over and over until I go down and tell him MOMMY IS NOT MY NAME ANYMORE! And then he says, “Mama?”

Mommy The Butcher

2007-11-19T09:48:00.000-06:00

W has always had a dreamy head of hair and as it grew, I would merely snip a little here and a little there and the overall loveliness would still be intact. In the beginning, trimming it was an adventure in my latent desires to do rockstar makeovers. Lately, he's been too defiant and combative about the much needed trim and as a result he comes out looking like the I gnawed the hairs off. I really managed to butcher his bangs a week ago so some serious intervention was in order. I took him to Bird's Barbershop as I was certain the bright lights, rock music and video games would be familiar and comforting to him. Ummm...no.

Yes, I did his bangs. So, so sorry son.

The stylist had to consciously avoid snipping that HUGE bottom lip.

"Hmmm...okay. This isn't so bad."

I guess he preferred the Bird's sticker instead of his new 'do.

Arugula

2007-11-15T15:51:00.000-06:00

Lordy. Where do I start? Let’s see…Britney Spears ran over another photographer’s foot? Amy Winehouse gets booed off stage? W kicks his paci addiction? Umm, yeah, let’s start with W. Way more compelling than Winehouse and Spears.

So W and I talked about a paci intervention for several days. I told him that intervention meant that the pacis go in the trash and he gets a big surprise in return and on a designated evening I presented him a toddler racetrack with all sorts of bells and whistles. His paci fell to the floor as his jaw dropped open. He gathered up the pacis I had collected and stuffed them in a paper bag. We both walked over to his trashcan and tossed them in. Simple. As. That. Sure, he mentions his long lost pacis on occasion and has been staying up in bed with me 'til about 10:30 p.m. but he also says, “Pacis in trash, pacis bye-bye.” I think the fact that we talked about paci rehab prior to paci disposal helped so it wasn’t a surprise to him that it was going to happen. Now it’s just a boy and his blankie and I couldn’t be happier.

Last weekend, our neighbors got their door kicked in and much stuff stolen. Curiously enough, we had just had a conversation with some other neighbors (they live next door to the ones that got robbed) about the abundance of break-ins in our cozy little ‘hood just the day before. After some research on our end, we found that our general area has been hit 80 times in the last month by thieves. Yeah, for real. They kick in your door, take your stuff and haul ass out. 80 times this has happened. Are we paranoid? You bet. We have since put in another deadbolt on our each of our exterior doors and installed a security system just this morning. Next up, a dog. One thing about situations like this is you really get to know who your neighbors are. We’re forming a small army. I would hate to mess with us now.

Y’all, next week is Thanksgiving. Now how did that happen?

And you know what’s better than chocolate? Boggy Creek arugula. I’m not kidding. Either on Saturday morning or Wednesday morning, get your buns in your car (or on your bike) and head over to the east side to get you some. If you haven’t been to this small farm, you have to indulge yourself. Take the kiddies, too, if you got’em. The produce is still warm from the sun and there are some free samples of different stuff to nibble. Lovely chicken coop and a tempting sand pile, too. It’s all I can do to keep from eating a whole pile of the veggies before I can get them in the fridge. Please go. It’s local. It’s fresh. It’s supportive.

How’s work, you ask? Crazy, nutso, insane. Remember that conference that we work on once a year while doing other events throughout the year? Well, last year we knocked out 80+ parties in 9 days and we’re already working on double the number of parties we were working on this time last year (cue Psycho shower scene music here). My Christmas list includes much wine and Valium.

BFF

2007-11-08T09:21:00.000-06:00

We had the pleasure of hanging with Caca a little last night while her mama did an interview for a story. W was thrilled to have her in his orbit. I'm always in awe of how close they seem and the level of respect they share despite their age. I could learn a little from those two sweet spirits.

Here's a brief pictoral of last night. They are like Fred and Ethel and that also means that sometimes Caca is Fred and W is Ethel...

Here Caca looks like she'd been working at the ranch all day and now she's kicking back with her evening beverage and best bud but wait... she's expecting a call about some unfinished business! Willem looks like he's been gravedigging in that shirt.

Here she is laughing at W in a way that seems to be giving him a complex.

A dramatic moment on Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends.

Umm...totally cute.

Chhhhh-Changes

2007-11-06T15:59:00.000-06:00

I was completely dreading the time change but that was until I realized which direction we were changing. I had it all reversed. “Hello, blondie?” And as much as I really don’t enjoy waking up with the ass crack of dawn, this little arrangement is working quite nicely. I actually have time to move at a much needed slower pace and even get a few extra things done like put away the clothes I decide not to wear to work instead of leaving the bedroom looking like a spastic stripper blew through. I get to drink an entire cup of coffee instead of gulping the scalding caffeine I so desperately need to get me out the door. I also get to serve W breakfast twice. He’s either a growing boy or got a tapeworm at the beach.

While at the beach over the weekend with a couple of the Hubs’ family (which was a glorious break from everything I do on a daily basis…oh, how the routine punishes the spirit), it was brought to my attention that W sticks out his tongue…a lot. In fact, it was mentioned that he uses it like a tail and I have to agree. See…

"Please bring me mah snacks on the veranda, dahling."

Deep In The Belly

2007-11-01T14:10:00.000-05:00

I sliced into this pumpkin and it shed a beam of light on my son like Skywalker's lightsaber.

Naw. Just kidding.

See how he totally stays on task?

Good job, W!

Little Jack White

2007-10-31T11:00:00.000-05:00

So the "hammer, hammer, saw, saw" jelly candy bribery worked and I managed to get W in costume this morning. He just about jumped off the changing table with glee when I mentioned the sweet tooth opportunity. I had to pre-layer the shirts so in essence I was pulling only one shirt over his head and I had to pre-loop the belt so I could slip on the britches and velcro. He was almost aware of what I was making him do and started to protest but I was saved by the neighborhood street sweeper. The whole way to school he sang "Where is sweet sweeper, where is sweet sweeper, down the sweet, down the sweet..." to the tune of Farajaca.

Here are the little White Stripes. Getting them to stand together was like herding cats. Impossible.

And this blue eyed fella is Z but the Hubs and I call him Bill Clinton because he's usually standing by the gate smiling up at you and you almost expect him to shake your hand every time he's there.

One White Stripe

2007-10-30T12:29:00.000-05:00

The Hubs and I are simultaneously battling allergies in the worst way and having both of us suffer together isn’t the picture of “let’s cuddle in bed, share Kleenex and watch bad daytime TV as we drift in and out of sleep." Nope, it’s more like “I’m sicker than you so you see what W needs while I sip more of this hot toddy and channel surf." I usually never get allergies but something in the air has got me all twisted. It’s all I can do to keep from coughing up a lung on to my desk at work. My co-workers better love me for the personal sacrifices I make for them.

The other night in the middle of the night I awoke to a mysterious crunching sound. I listened harder in the direction of the open bedroom windows and though it was a squirrel enjoying a midnight snack but the chomping was too close. In the pitch I turned my head so both ears could dial up the sound and process from hence it sprung to wake me (some pretty fancy writing, huh?) and was convinced that the squirrel was in our room. We don’t have screens on the windows so it was a viable possibility. I looked in the direction of Hubs whose profile I could barely discern in the moonlight and sure enough, I could see his jaw working away. The “squirrel” was the Hubs chomping on cough drops like stolen Halloween candy. Took a lot of will power to not grab a pillow and gently place it over his munching head.

Tomorrow is Halloween and we are almost prepared for the ghosts and goblins to appear. W is going to be Jack White from the White Stripes while his best bud, CaCa, is going to be Meg. As we all know from the previous blog entry, W doesn't "do" costumes. Took FOREVER to find some red pants in his size with belt loops for his white belt. I did find him some britches but they are for girls…and they have silver sparkles in them. Not only is the white belt going to mentally scar the child but the girlie britches with sparkles may send him in a demonic fit. Thank goodness he’s only two and loves a certain kind of jelly candy that I have a secret stash of for bribery cases such as these. Yes, W gets candy after his oatmeal tomorrow morning.

It Takes A Village

2007-10-29T11:51:00.000-05:00

So this is the episode where I have to give mad props to all the mommies and daddies who are the kick arse parents of the kids in W’s class at school. Can I just say that I’m the luckiest momma on the planet to have such an awesome bunch for a) drinking buddies, b) open-minded, laid back, non-judgmental conversationalists, and c) measuring 11 on the 1-10 scale of total foxiness. Seriously, we should all pose for a calendar and I bet we would sell the hell out of it. We could donate some of the money to the school and spend the rest on wine clubs.

Friday, W had his first school program. They had been studying about Africa for 2 weeks and this was the apex of all their research. A small gathering of parentals waited like paparazzi for the tots to burst through the classroom door dressed in kente cloth vests made of paper bags and painted images and anklets made of pipe cleaners and bells. It was no surprise to see W sans kente vest and bells. I can barely convince him to dress in the morning. All of his friends paraded around in costume and banged on various instruments while W promptly put his toosh in my lap and watched. “I ain’t wearin’ no stinkin’ paper bag.” Yep, that’s my boy. He takes very much after his father.

Afterwards, I took W to my workplace to finish my day and pack up while he ate the dusty candy pumpkins perched on my edge of my desk as decor. I then wrangled the sugar-hyped tot and hoofed it over to the motherland, Central Market, where everyone from W’s class noshed and kibitzed as a PG-rated group. The wine bottles lined the tables like centerpieces, the kiddos ran amok and danced to the live music and we all had some good laughs at watching them wrestle, mosh, do yoga poses and hug. Good times, good times.

Faker

2007-10-26T09:30:00.000-05:00

For several weeks now parents have been reading about the misuse of infant cough medicine ending in some overdose cases but I have yet to read about the addiction they may cause. For example, I’m getting ready for work this morning. W is doing his usual rooting around in various drawers and reveals two bottles of adult cough medicine. He brings the larger of the two over to me and says, “W cough, need cough medicine.” He starts fake coughing and continues begging for the meds. I tell him this one is for adults and he doesn’t have a cough and stop sticking your finger down your throat and let’s watch Curious George instead. The dramatics are cued and he starts with the whining and begging and more fake coughing/choking and I’m just looking at my toddler junkie and wondering who I should call for backup…911? NA? His doc? Pest control? My imaginary therapist? I admit to using cough meds when I felt he needed it but I’m not a believer in the band aid method of curing what ails you. I believe your body should work to banish the illness on it’s own. With constant observation and care of the situation, the natural method usually works for us but I’m disheartened by my 2-year-old’s junkie-like reaction to the sight of a cough medicine bottle. Anyone ever heard of toddler intervention?

Old Cowhand

2007-10-24T16:51:00.000-05:00

I’m pooped. Pooped from sitting at my desk all day pecking at the alphabet with my fingertips. It’s the wrong kind of pooped, too. It’s a crime, in fact. I should be pooped from jogging or housecleaning or building a yurt but I’m depressed to report that this fatigue is from non-activity, the slothfulness that is a desk job. How did this happen? It’s so wrong. If anyone with a ranch wants to hire me to run it, I’m your girl. Seriously. I’m a cowgirl at heart and THAT’S where I’m supposed to be. In the meantime, I’ll continue taking the baby steps necessary to get me there. Where there? Outdoors…with livestock…and friends, old and new…and divine food from my garden…and campfires…and starry skies…and feeling rightfully pooped.

Evolution

2007-10-22T11:26:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I learned I was getting a new molar. My tongue rubbed the gummy surface in confusion and discovered the widening divot. Hello? I'm a little too old for this. I was happy with only three wisdom teeth. What I thought was a sign of evolution (I mean, we’re not wooly mammoth eating cave people anymore. Who needs all these teeth?) is instead a latent arrival that is surely going to wreak havoc about the time an 8-course Thanksgiving meal is set before me. I’m sure this is going to go poorly. I never had the other three removed and now I think number 4 is going to destroy the dental harmony. My top teeth are going to start looking like a pile up on IH-35. Sweet.

So I’m sure that anyone who lives in this part of the country and blogs will be writing about the weather here today because it’s totally writeable fodder. Yesterday, the sun shone and the air was in the mid 85’s. Bliss. Today Mother Nature smacked us with much needed rain and temps in the low 50’s. The projected high for the afternoon? Something like 58 degrees. Where in the hell am I? I opened the screenless windows of the upstairs bedroom to enjoy the coziness of the down blanket but the enjoyment turned to complete annoyance as the howling wind shook pecans loose from the trees. The machine gun popping sounds of the plump nuts hitting the balcony and roof just about drove me mental. Feeling a little sleepy today as a result.

For a complete change of scenery, check out the schonze on this here fish. Snapped it at an aquarium while on vaca.

Mr. Creepers

2007-10-21T21:17:00.001-05:00

I can hear W clapping to the Curious George soundtrack in his room. His little palms smack loudly. It’s both sporadic and meaningful. Lately he’s been spending a lot of time playing in his room, exploring, creating, and destroying. I adore hearing his sweet voice as he talks to his cars and trucks, pretends to be a cat, makes up words to Farajaca and reads to himself. These moments in the day are precious gifts.

The other night the Hubs had a gig so W and I were tandem for the evening. As bedtime drew near, I abandoned the greatly insisted upon idea of reading the same five out of 50 books he owns and turned on the TV instead. I’m the best mom ever, I know, I know. I unfolded his Spongebob Squarepants couch and we squeezed in together. This actually means that my arse end is hanging off the edge and my weight is deforming the box-shaped frame. Spiderman 2 was on. W knows who Spiderman is but not what he’s about. Since it was a relatively calm moment in the film, we tuned in for a few minutes. It was the scene where Kirsten Dunst is at a café with Tobey Maguire and she asks him if he still loves her. During this time, W moved from being wedged in the couch to sitting on my belly. Tobey says he doesn’t love her and her character is obviously pained by this. W is engrossed by the intensity of her expression although he doesn’t understand what is going on, or so I thought. She whispered, “Kiss me. Kiss me. I have to know something. Kiss me…” or something like that. W suddenly turned to me and whispered, “Kiss me.” I burst out laughing. He did it again and started to slowly lean in all slobbery lipped. The humor of it quickly reached a super creepy level and I gently pushed him back. He gave it another go and seemed to enjoy my second grader’s reaction. In an instant his attention turned to a car flying into the plate glass window of the café and I was saved by some kick ass special effects.

Seriously y’all, that intimate kissy moment gave me the hebegeebees something fierce. What’s up with this kid?

Better Late Than Never

2007-10-19T08:39:00.000-05:00

Can’t seem to get my blogging act together.

Many of my girlfriends are busy nurturing buns in their lucky ovens and don’t cha’ know it makes my baby makin’ machine start to churn with the urge. Granted, at the more than ripe age of 38, it’s not so much a churn as it is a chug. The Hubs and I have talked about procreating again but as we’ve learned throughout this tour of “dooty” it’s a pretty big (huge) deal. We’re not quite ready to welcome another round of sleepless nights into our world and with W sleeping 10 to 11 straight hours a night, life is pretty grand but it’s nice to think about the possibility of family member number four, talk about it, consider it a little. All of W’s baby things are stuffed in the attic like piles of promise rings so maybe, just maybe, we’ll expand our little rock n roll nest to include another band member.

W and I went to see Thomas the Tank Engine this past Saturday. We found the bright blue cartoon train anchored to a series of passenger cars and grinning eerily up at the sky, looking at nothing in particular. W was as cool as a cucumber as other children around us exploded into billions of pieces upon seeing their beloved train. The swirl of activity kept W welded to my torso. He seemed happy to be there and loved the actual train ride but, thankfully, he wasn’t buying the commercial seduction and neither was I. W’s love affair for the afternoon was in the form of my college roommate’s 6 or 7 year-old daughter, Zoe. W was captivated by her and held her hand for 3 city blocks before we had to go our own way. The boy has great taste.

Eating ice cream, if that's what you want to call it...

My friend's husband who gets all the credit for these photos said, and I quote, "The subject line is actually what one of my friends said it looked like W was doing in this photo. That is actually you, waving a napkin in front of his face while I was taking the photo. The photo has been the source for much head-scratching amongst my familiars." The subject line:
Burping the ghost of Christmas past

Dumbo

2007-10-04T08:47:00.000-05:00

I found out this morning that I can make an authentic elephant sound. W was trumpting in the back seat on the way to school (speaking of back seat, I encountered no drama while strapping him in his carseat this morning thanks to a squirrel who was burying pecans in our front yard, perfect fodder for distraction) and he wanted me to try. I tightened my lips, sucked in some air and blew and out came an elephant sound so real I almost high-fived myelf. I thought W was going to pass out from laughing so hard. Over and over I honked like Dumbo and W gasped for air between laughs. I guess I looked pretty stupid to my stoplight neighbors. Several had confused expressions on their faces and were probably trying to figure out if I needed medical attention. It's hard to see the kiddo in the back because of the tinted windows so I seem to be totally alone.

Most days with W in the car I'm pretty much a solo freak show.

Monster In Our Midst

2007-10-02T09:29:00.000-05:00

We found out over the weekend that W’s favorite band is the Pixies. We put on Surfer Rosa and for 20 non-stop minutes, he ran in circles swinging the two t-shirts he swiped from the laundry pile on the couch and bobbed his head. He was intense as he bounced around in his imaginary mosh pit. He seemed possessed by the music, determined to elbow anyone in his way. I was grateful when he ran out of gas and plopped down for a drink of water. The dancing/thrashing/smashing was funny at first but then started to creep me out. Too reminiscent of teen angst already. Lordy, what we have in store for us.

W latest milestone is to defy being buckled in his car seat. He goes rigid with resistance as if I’m strapping him in the electric chair. It’s really frustrating to have to climb in the truck to secure his rigamortis frame. Today he was anti-blue or black Crocs so I chose the black ones for him. They were airborne as I was leaving the driveway. Thank goodness they’re not clogs. At the moment I can appreciate their foamy softness. What to do with the little devil…

My work hours recently changed from 9 to 5 and that’s kinda thrown things off a bit. I’m still trying to figure out how to divide the day so I get things done and take care of my mind/body/spirit somewhere therein and heckling the Hubs does not count as health care. I’m considering taking some yoga classes but the fact that I will probably die of muscular shock a third of the way through the class is discouraging. And if I don’t die in the class, I will definitely die of muscular soreness the next morning. I cancelled my gym membership Sunday after they called to tell me I owed them some money. I got so frustrated I just told them to stick their membership. What happened was that the Hubs changed the credit card number for billing but forgot to include my joint membership on the switch so suddenly I owed them $80. Fine, whatever. I can’t get over to your stinky, germy facility to work out anyway. The guilt of not going has now evaporated. Poof.

Crimes and Chaos

2007-09-28T09:40:00.000-05:00

It’s been hell getting things back on track since my journey to West Texas. The hell being that I’d much rather be out there than chained to my desk.

I use my personal laptop for work. I have my browser set to CNN.com when Safari opens. I have since had to change it because I cannot stomach the horrifying and constant headlines about people neglecting and abusing children. Yesterday there was the 4 or 5 year old girl that authorities were hoping to identify because she was being sexually abused by an adult in a video that was found outside of Vegas. Then there was the report of the 4-month-old that was found in a daycare bathroom with its pacifier taped to its mouth. Today there’s the one about the parents that strapped their 14-month-old in his stroller so they could go party. He was found with severe diaper rash, his temp was 12 degrees below normal and was required to have 21 minutes of CPR to revive him because he stopped breathing. The mother of this child admitted to only changing his diaper once a day! Once a day, people! What the fuck? How? How can they do this? Makes me sick. I can’t read this crap at work anymore. I’ll never get anything done.

W had a true blue meltdown this morning right before leaving for school. I went in his room to put on his, yes, you guessed it, his Crocs and he flipped out. His body went stiff and he little arms were spinning like windmills. I quickly gave him the once over to rule out anything poking or scratching him. I was on the verge of being late for work so I carried him out to the truck kicking and screaming. I calmly put him in the carseat and that was like wrestling an armful of piglets. He wailed all the way to school despite my efforts to console him with an improvised version of The Wheels On The Bus. When we pulled in, I finally exhaled and gently extracted him from the truck. I retrieved the shoes he launched to the front seat and put them on him. He had settled down by this time but I was completely rattled. We hugged for a few seconds, collected ourselves and headed to the playground. I couldn’t unload him fast enough. I know this is only the beginning of the alleged Terrible Twos and, so far, it really stinks. Must do research.

I Saw It Before It Was There

2007-09-25T16:55:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday, I was drinking sake in Marfa. That Thursday, I cured a slight hangover by building a Mongolian yurt. On Friday, my bottom lip looked like a botched botox treatment courtesy of the West Texas altitude and sun. Saturday, I was rockin' and rollin' with the guests of El Cosmico and Sunday we put the whole thing to bed. Monday, my travel companion and I filled up with on a heavy duty country breakfast in Ft. Davis and promptly sank to the bottom of Balmorrhea Springs upon impact.

This is the last 5 days in brief. We were hired to work this amazing event. What a time. Here it is in pictures.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7852978@N08/sets/72157602138131992/?page=2

More to come…

No Way...

2007-09-18T15:22:00.000-05:00

Go here now. The perfect gifit for the sassy-assed girlfriend in your life.

Crocodile Rock

2007-09-18T09:07:00.000-05:00

W asked me if I would "nurse, nurse" Jelly Cat last night. For those of you who don't know, Jelly Cat is his favorite stuffed animal. Lately W has been somewhat obsessed with the idea of nursing and I can't figure out why. Is he secretly pining for a sibling? Hubs, you want to weigh in on this (insert sound of screeching car tires, here)?

W is seriously infatuated with his Crocs. He won’t wear any other shoes. I’ve purchased a couple of super cute pairs for him from Old Navy and Piperlime.com for the fall and I bet they will collect dust in the closet. I got his first pair of Crocs in Nashville back in June. I never, ever intended on getting him a pair of those ugly, rubber colander looking things but he was putting them on at the department store by himself. That's a pretty big deal. My girlfriend was nodding her approval with that “see I told you so” look on her face as she dug through the latest Croc style for her son. They were awesome shoes to travel with this summer. Easy on, easy off. Easy wash up, easy dry. They were great for walking on hot sandy beaches and parking lots that seemed to go on forever. One evening after dinner in Santa Monica, we were walking back to our hotel, W leading the charge. A lovely, leggy British speaking woman was walking in front of us with her tall significant other and two teens. W barreled past them and I jogged to keep up. The woman commented, “Look at his little Crocs. I didn’t know they made them that small.” I called out to “Shorty” to slow down and she repeated his nickname out loud. As I walked past her little group, I turned to see it was Minnie Driver (totally pretty in real life). Dahlia Malloy was talking about my kid!

Not surprisingly, several kiddos at W’s school wear Crocs. Interestingly enough, most are identical (same shade of blue) so it often happens that classmates go home with each other’s shoes. I imagine a 3 or 4-year-old cramming their dirty little sole in them like Cinderella’s stepsister as they hurry to leave with a parent knowing in their toddler mind that something isn’t quite right down there. I’ve put W’s name on his shoes but it rubs off on the playground gravel pile and sand pit.

Last week W was the last one at school (I hate when that happens…kinda makes me feel like a bad mom). When we went to put on his shoes, one was missing and all of the extra blue crocs were enormous on his feet. Frustrated, I stuck him in the car shoeless and took him to get another pair, a black pair. These are without a doubt his favorites and now shuns the blue ones. He proclaims “Crocodile shoes, black like mama’s truck.” He wears them with only his diaper on. He would wear them in the bathtub if I let him.

What I want him to wear…

What W won't take off his feet...

So damn ugly.

Birthday Boy

2007-09-11T09:50:00.000-05:00

Wow kiddo,

You’re two-years-old now. Like everyone says it has whizzed by like an empty inner tube on a waterslide at Schlitterbaun. It seems like just yesterday I was propping your wobbly large noggin in my hands and hoping I wouldn’t somehow break you in half. What a good baby you were but, oh, how mommy-centric. Come to think of it, you are still very mommy-centric. I know it won’t always be this way so I embrace your constant calling out for me…”Mama, air are ewe? Mama, mama, mama…” You turned two yesterday and to commemorate it, you actually asked me if you could “nurse, nurse” which was a total surprise. You haven’t nursed in six months. The request must’ve been in honor of your fleeting infanthood and I completely respect that. Mommy sometimes wishes she had a bottle to nurse but that would be one full of white wine with hints of peach and cardamom.

Your daddy became a year older yesterday, too, and as usual, he’s not taking it so well. He even did a bit of muttering last night that we both recognized as something an elderly person would say. That was a blow. But he’s in the gym more, eating well and wearing cologne so he’s putting up a pretty good fight. Let’s keep rooting for him, okay?

We gave you a drum kit for your birthday and you love it. This is not a surprise as you are really in to rhythm and beats. And you love to sing. Loud. In the car. Just like mama. This morning was your 2-year doctor’s appointment and as we headed out of the house you asked, “Mama, takie dum dicks?” and I said, “Sure, you can take your drum sticks.” Then you said, “Mama, takie dum?” and I looked over to see you dragging the whole kit to the front door. Needless to say, we only took the dum dicks.

This is the part where I tell you how much I love you and can’t imagine my life without you. You have brought so much silliness, laughter, and fun into our little world. You have helped me to be a more patient and aware parent, friend, co-worker, and wife. You have encouraged your father and me to grow up in the best ways therefore enhancing the beautiful bond we nurture on a daily basis. I am blessed, plain and simple.

Love you up to the sky,
Mama

Grilling For Dummies

2007-09-06T17:34:00.000-05:00

We finally got to use the grill last night. Thank goodness because W was just about convinced that it was his Beyond The Thunderdome playhouse. We fired it up in the twilight of the evening and gawked at its awesomeness. We grilled ears of corn and shrimp for this recipe we love mucho. We felt victorious and sated at the end of the night. Unfortunately we ended up using an entire tank of fuel on a pound of shrimp and 4 ears of corn. How can this be, you ask? It can be because no one remembered to turn off the damn gas and it leeched out into the world all night long. How many carbon credits are we going to have to buy to correct this little oversight? Not only that but it was a powder keg waiting to happen as the fumes congregated underneath the grill cover. Don’t you wish you were our neighbors? AND our yard guy came today which means there was the possibility he could’ve ignited the entire ‘hood with his mower. We are so grounded from the grill. The Hubs has a label maker and will be making all sorts of directional messages to adhere to the shiny sides of the beast so we don’t make any other stupid mistakes. We remind me of Homer and Marge Simpson.

Little People Rule

2007-09-05T17:45:00.000-05:00

Please tell me that at nearly two years of age it’s normal for a little boy to be as empathetic as a Red Cross volunteer. Despite W’s usual moments of defiance and resistance to anything that hints of doing something he doesn’t want to do, the kid has got a tender side that borders on creepy. For example, I was in the 4th hour of putting our grill-the-size-of-a-shiny-new-semi together (living hell) this past Saturday and W was vying for my attention, which was fair enough. I had been piecing it together for a while and he didn’t have the Hubs to defer to as he had hightailed it to a private gig out of town. I was leaning in to the silver beast for the seventh or twelfth time with the cordless drill as I hopelessly tried to get a shelf to secure to the base when W rammed me with his large, plastic dump truck. It startled me and I jumped, maybe even squeaked “Ah!” and W looked at me like I had been hit by an actual construction vehicle. Since I was sitting on the floor I was at his eye level. He came over, said “C’mere,” and hugged me. Not the full arms around the shoulders sort of hug but one where he was to my left and swung his right arm over my shoulder like a chummy dad. He said, “C’mere, “ a few more times, kept looking at me like he expected me to cry and then said, “Hug.” I obliged him but felt awkward. His parental-esque coddling was just a little too grown up. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given me a tap on the chin with his little fist and said, “Hang in there, kiddo.”

So we have a new grill. Unfortunately, it has been sitting in our living room since Saturday afternoon. It rained all weekend and our porch isn’t covered. Something we should’ve thought about doing during the remodel a couple of years ago. So we sat around the house and sat and sat except for Monday when I actually talked the Hubs in to going to Nordstrom’s because we were both in dire need of some new duds. This was going to be a maiden voyage for us all. Yes, I have never been to Nordstrom’s. And yes, it was pretty awesome, especially the fish aquarium in the shoe department and the pianist that played cheesy hits at warp speed. The Hubs found some shirts that looked mighty foxy on him and he even bought some cologne. Does he have a lova’? W was completely content to push his balloon around in the umbrella stroller the entire time. He followed like an obedient pup. We eventually found our way to the shoe department (of course) and I scored a sleek little pump for work. I spied a naughty looking heel that I pointed out to the Hubs. He picked one up, agreed they were completely sexy, turned them over, saw the price tag and reacted like he had just seen his mother naked. “Those cost more than the grill!” he bellowed. Yes, sweetheart, yes they do.

I Heart 3 Day Weekends

2007-08-31T14:07:00.001-05:00

Labor day weekend is going to rule, y’all.

Why, you ask?

Well, let me list the reasons why…

1) W and I will finally get to spend some time with the Hubs who we have only seen for a few moments in the morning all this week.
2) We’re going to buy a real grill, one of those multi burner monsters with several racks and enough surface area to hold a marinated moose. I’m going to let W beat our old charcoal one like it’s a bloated piñata. I loathe that damn thing.
3) Monday morning we’re all going over to a neighbor’s house for brunch. Most of the guests are folks I’ve never met that live in my ‘hood and have children. I heard there’s going to be mimosas. I love the idea of champagne in the morning and a big family nap afterwards. Oh yeah.
4) Big sale at Last Call. ‘Nuff said.
5) I’m going to finally buy some cowboy boots. I don’t have any and that’s a crime.
6) Several playdates and hen sessions.
7) And lastly, it’s a 3-day weekend which means no work in Monday. NO...WORK...ON...MONDAY. Sweet.

In an effort to keep the grandparents sated, here are more pics for their viewing pleasure. These were taken in Kentucky, the first leg of our summer on the road. W and I traveled sans the Hubs. Fun was had by all.

Ay Me Cabeza

2007-08-30T09:45:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I left work with a headache and I knew it was going to be one of those that would wear out its welcome in a hurry, like a drunken uncle at a pool party. I had a laundry list of things I wanted to knock out last night, little chores like vacuuming, dishes, etc., but I was paralyzed with pain. Thankfully, W was totally game to go upstairs and “noogle” with me while I waited for the ibuprofen to kick in although we did spend a couple of minutes jumping on the bed before burrowing beneath the covers. I lucked in to an amazing show on TLC that I had wanted to see called Crazy Sexy Cancer. I was fortunate enough to meet the star of the documentary this past March when I coordinated a party for the premiere of the film. Little did I know how incredible her story was going to be. It airs again tonight at 11 p.m. so DVR it at least. You’ll be glad you did.

I swam in the ocean of cerebral hurt all night and that must’ve triggered the nightmare I had about W getting kidnapped from a playground. He and I were leaving a lingerie store (huh?) and W immediately bolted to a busy playground across the street. I couldn’t keep up with him and he soon vanished in a crowd of people. I searched frantically for him, screaming his name, delirious from the fear of losing him. The experience seemed so real, so intense. I knew in my heart as I crashed through bodies standing around the slides and swings that I couldn’t go on living without the little guy. The pain of it was larger than life. I awoke this morning panicked and with a pounding head and I didn’t waste any time before racing down the stairs to check on the kiddo who was happily playing with his monster trucks in bed…like he always does…everyday…thank the Lord.

Doesn't this picture look like W fell out of a tree or airplane and just landed like that with all of the debris around him? It's one of those worn out from the ocean naps that takes you as you are...completely exhausted.

Willem and The F Word

2007-08-29T14:32:00.000-05:00

So here's a video of W saying something that sounds like the F word. Leave it to the Hubs to make it seem so. Notice how W calls the Hubs by his nickname. Notice the ever present pacifier held like a cigar in W's mouth. For the record the paci has a limited presence in the household these days. Not being able to have one at school has helped tremendously and I'm seriously sick of the thing.

Mushy Brain

2007-08-28T15:14:00.000-05:00

Hello again. It’s amazing how easy it is to slide back into the routine of domestic responsibility and the career world after being on vaca for 2 months. Just jump right in and join the rat race. Vaca is like a comfy pair of jeans with threadbare heels and a slouchy waistline while the working world is like running a marathon in stillettos. I went from trying to decide which new swimsuit to wear each day to herding 300+ intoxicated guests of a client at a 2-day event. I’m going from mushy brain to muscular brain again and I miss mushy brain. We all should get at least two months of the year off. It’s good for the spirit, the family and the marriage.

Upon approval from my various bosses for my sabbatical last June, I immediately began piecing together the adventurous weeks ahead. I imagined my son naked and frolicking on the sandy shores of the west coast, the chilly surf taming the cloudless, sunny days and strolling hand in hand on the boardwalk under the stars and the neon of the ferris wheel with the Hubs. The reality? The baby with the itchy, embedded sand in his crotch, eyes, hair and mouth. The chilly surf waiting to drag my son like a hungry alligator into its depths. The challenge of maintaining a level of sanity with the spouse in the wake of tantrums and fatigue, his and mine. Don’t get me wrong though. If I had known what I know now about what it’s like to travel great distances and over several time zones with a 22-month-old and a 40-year-old I’d still totally do it.

Our first day on the open road was nine hours long. This included stops for gas, calls from nature and parental time outs. The following is a list of the things I packed in the car for the tot…

-A small padded desk that attached to his carseat. Perfect for Play Doh, playing with monster trucks, and eating.

-DVD player. Yup, we bought one and I’m damn glad I did.

-TONS of small snacks and one of those Snack Trap cups.

-Surprise toys that have never been seen before.

-Soft cotton covers for the shoulder straps of the car seat.

-Jelly cat.

-Daddy’s iPod

Somehow, some way, all of these items were all that was needed to keep W entertained two straight months. The absolute favorite was, and still is, the Play Doh. We left a trail of neon colored chunks from here to Santa Cruz and back.

Here We Are!

2007-08-24T14:21:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are again and darn it, it’s good to be back. I had seriously considered abandoning this blog once and for all but me mind has changed. I thought about how great it is to read someone else’s blog and relate to what they are saying or realize that I’m not the worst parent on the planet at times and decided, I, too, must continue to air out the dirty laundry of childrearing on my end of the street. Besides, W needs to understand why he’s in therapy for life.

It is with boastful parenting pride that I can report that we, as a family of three, traveled for 7 straight weeks together this summer without one maimed limb or the filing of divorce papers. There were several bruised egos but that’s about it. I should also mention that 5 of those weeks were spent traveling in a car the size of a go cart…with a nearly 2-year-old…because it had a GPS and good gas mileage but I would’ve given my last glass of wine on earth to have had a bit more room to sleep/eat/read/stretch out while cruising down the endless highway. We had fun though. W is now qualified to work either at Sea World or an airport. All of the beach and airline time has made him employable. As I play catch up here on this site, I’ll highlight the hilarious and the horrible details of our summer.

W and I flew home on the 5th of this month. Several days later while in the throes of decompression and jet lag, W started back to school, in the bigger kids class, the one where he is required to bring his own lunch box and can’t have his binkie (as a result of so much travel, W became very attached to his paci and blankie so much so that the Hubs said if he went missing, the photo we’d submit to the police would have to include one), the one where the bigger boys say things like, “I’m not a baby’s friend, I’m a big kid’s friend.” They tower over him like giants. His small frame is swallowed by the plastic chairs in his classroom. My little shrimp is growing up and, as usual, I have mixed feelings about all of this.

Here are some shots of the trip out west.

For The Ladies In Da' House...

2007-06-15T16:16:00.000-05:00

The baker. Oh, the baker.

http://www.seemoresideeffects.ca/

Lost In America

2007-06-15T15:54:00.001-05:00

Wild week. I haven’t been able to get it together to blog. I’m on my last day of a four-day event cycle. Indiana Jones theme…skeletons, treasure chests, rubber snakes, rope bridges. This is also my last day at work for two months. I am dancing in my shoes to get out of here. My desk is cleared, boxes packed. The office is relocating while I’m away. I wanted to make the transition easier for all by hauling out my stuff and returning with it in mid-August. I’ll probably get shafted on where my new desk will end up living but right now I don’t care. I’ll deal with that later. Much later. We’re headed to the beach tomorrow morning, W and I. We’ve been reading books about the beach to get him familiar with the idea. He hasn’t been since he was this small and just learning to walk.

Now it’s all he can talk about. CaCa and her family are joining us. W was saying this morning on the way to school, “CaCa beach, yeaaaaaaaaaay!” Yeay is right, kiddo.

His last day at school is next Tuesday. I’m feeling the bittersweet sadness of it already. So are his teachers. He’ll be back later in the summer but it’s like splitting up a family. They’ll miss him and vice versa. On a somewhat related note, last Friday W came home from school with two bite marks on his little arm. His teachers didn’t mention anything about it so I asked W what happened. I asked, “Who bit you?” and pointed to the offending red circles. “Isbabell,” he replied. I talked with him about biting being bad and how it hurts our bodies and our friend’s bodies and so forth. I kissed the wounds and we went on our merry way. Several times during the weekend W pointed to the marks and said “Isbabell.” I reminded him that biting wasn’t a nice thing to do, blah, blah, blah. By the end of the weekend, he was pointing at every mosquito bite, scab and bruise on his person and blaming them all on little Isabel. He was obviously getting carried away at incriminating her and I tried to set the record straight but, damn, it was funny.

So the Hubs has sold his soul to Tony Robbins. I know, I know…awaken the giant within and all that voodoo is bunk to many but I’m telling y’all, this stuff has some super-duper powers. See, the Hubs has been dealing with some mighty big issues, decisions, demons, and such. He needed someone unbiased to assist him in making some very important choices and that someone was definitely not his biased wife. So he plunked down a hearty wad of dough and got himself a life coach. They talk every three weeks, just enough time for him to get some assigned homework on himself done. Y’all, I’m not kidding, the first time he talked to his coach things started happening right away, good things, offers, invitations, opportunities. It's like there was some unspoken barrier in our world and it's been removed. And they keep coming and now I’m getting excited because I can see the wheels of change happening for us. It’s freaky and awesome and I'm stoked to see what happens next.

Summertime, here we come.

Oh Little Man

2007-06-07T09:44:00.000-05:00

(This is an entry to W, for W, about W so read on if you can stand the syrupy sentiments.)

Oh, kiddo…

Lately we’ve been spending big chunks of time together while the Hubs is away and it’s been pretty awesome. At times, I do find myself mentally mixing every cocktail imaginable when I have to tame your more spirited moments and I’m at my wits end of things but on the whole you’re pretty wonderful.

The other night I was curious to see how late you could stay up and, man, did I pay the price. I snuggled you into my bed thinking it would be so nice to have you fall asleep in my arms like you do when you’re ill, all cuddly and warm. This turned out to be a very bad idea and finally had to drag your flippity-floppity buns downstairs to your own room at 11:35 p.m. You won, son. You are your father’s child, oh keeper of rock star hours. I should’ve known. There are times though when we are watching Wonder Pets or Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch something or other on the couch together and you grab my arm and wrap it around your neck like a mink stole. You have no idea how happy that makes me.

You’re full of information, tons of information with details and details of those details. Sometimes you share this knowledge in a language you are cultivating on your own and you sprinkle in bits of the English language, kinda like our new cleaning lady who speaks both English and Spanish simultaneously…“I cleaned the bathroom pero no mas cleaner for the tub, o.k?” The best is when you pretend to talk on my cell phone like an attorney making a deal for a very guilty client you're representing. You wring your hands and wave them in the air like you’re stating some very pertinent facts. The best is when you pause like you’re listening to the other party talk for a moment. So real.

I’m wondering though if you’re ever going to be okay with taking a bath again. You unwillingly charge in there like I’ve got a cattle prod poking your arse when I tell you it’s bath time. Tears stream down your cheeks as we undress you. You immediately start saying and signing “All done!” as soon as your toes touch the water. Try as I may, I can’t get you interested in the hundreds of toys floating and sinking in there so we just wash up really fast and get you out of there quick. You like to look at yourself in the mirror while you cry as I bundle you in your towel. Talk about drama.

Lately you’ve been sitting at the piano and playing it with your left hand while shaking the blue egg shaker in the other. Throw in some jibber-jabber sing song stuff and I’m front and center at my own little concert, a peek in to things (and groupies) to come. This morning on our way to school you were singing Old MacDonald so loudly you’re little voice was cracking. I could barely drive I was laughing so hard. You are quite the entertainer/dramatic artist, my sweet child and you get it honest.

Besos,
Mama

And for your viewing pleasure...

Wunnerful Weekend

2007-06-04T16:09:00.000-05:00

Me and W, our weekend was stuffed like a Chicago style pizza. Right after school on Friday we headed to our neighborhood cement pond for our first dip of the summer-to-be. Freakin’ cold, as to be expected, and W cried the whole time except when I pointed at imaginary fish in the water. A little girl was making a game of getting out of the pool and jumping back into the water. Every time she did and the droplets landed on W’s skin, he’d shriek like acid was being throw on him. We lasted about 10 whole minutes. We ended the evening at Central Market to watch a friend’s husband bang on the drums. I eagerly purchased a refreshing glass of white wine, a well deserved beverage after a hard week of solo parenting and work at the orifice, and planted myself, ready to take in the surroundings. I then proceeded to dump the whole glass of nectar into my friend’s purse, just bumped it into the crevasses of the table. She said she’d drink it later. I was too ticked to brave the line and get another.

Saturday we joined the motorcycling masses and headed to the hill country for an overnighter with Pop Pop and family. My wonderful Aunt Ginna from Oatmeal (yes, there is such a place and it’s lovely) came down for the fun, too. The wildflowers along the way were in Technicolor! We had a grand time grilling out (be sure and mix some parmesan cheese, fresh lime juice, S & P with butter, rechill and then slather it on grilled corn on the cob…hell yeah!), swilling vino and getting caught up. Wella gave W a battery operated, hand held bubble blower so we spent hours on the back patio framed in scenes from the Lawerence Welk show. On Sunday morning, a few of us went here. I could drop some serious cash in that place but made it out relatively unscathed.

We ended the long, wonderful weekend by sitting on the front porch and watching it rain droplets the size of silver dollars. They smacked the pavement like wads of wet toilet paper. Lightning lit up the sky followed by the thunder and W and I enjoyed every minute of it. If the Hubs had been home, he would’ve been hidden safely inside the house but I want to make sure that W isn’t afraid of the storms and marvels at their beauty the way I do.

I promise to post some pics soon. We got a new camera but the Hubs keeps running off with it every time he leaves town.

Kiddo

2007-06-01T20:48:00.000-05:00

The Hubs and I decided that since we will be taking a summer off from working and school that we’d hold W back from moving up to the bigger kids room. Wednesday was the last day for CaCa, his best bud, to be in the class. His other friend, Zane, who could easily be running for office by the way he stands there and smiles at you while never saying a word, just waiting for a photo opp by the cubby area, had his last day yesterday. Both of them cried on their final days like they knew something was about to change. It was a sad sight to see. Did they really get it? Did they really know what was about to happen? This morning, however, after I dropped off W, who, let me point out, was the first one at school at 8 a.m. because he decided to start his day at 5:45 a.m., I saw Zane getting dropped off by his mama in the other play yard. I drove slowly down the alley to observe him absorbing his new routine and he seemed absolutely thrilled, just beaming with happiness and excitement. He saw me and waved like the good politician he is and flashed the pearly whites that match his platinum hair. I waved back enthusiastically and tears welled up in my eyes. You know, you get close to the little posse of children your kiddo spends so many of the hours of the day with and you root for them and you feel their parent’s anguish when their babes are growing up so fast knowing full well you’re going to be in their shoes very, very soon.

Thankfully W is still in a cuddly state and doesn’t venture far when we’re out in public. He likes to be carried and have things explained to him as he is tenuous about his surroundings. He asks questions and makes many (sometime too many) verbal observations. All in all, he’s a very good kiddo but he’s recently encountered the world of monster trucks (the DVD came with the cars) and now everything has to “Cash!” or crash and he has become rather destructive with his toys. Just yesterday as I was standing in the driveway talking to the neighbors from across the street who have a boy a couple of months younger than W. We were saying that we needed to get the kiddos together and hang out and all that small talk. W was pushing his little school bus in the pea gravel at my feet and I commented on how that school bus was about 18 years old and formerly owned by one of my younger brothers. As what seemed to be his cue, W lifted it above his head and tossed it with a resounding crash as the plastic hit the ground. He did it again, shaking some components loose inside. Again he threw it and it bounced twice. W was very proud of himself and repeating “Cash!” over and over. Real nice, son. I’m sure the neighbors are just dying to bring their composed and calm son over to play with you. Lord, keep my son away from the WWF.

Shame On Me

2007-05-29T13:43:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the absentee-ism, y’all. I’ve been busy and lazy and uninspired. Working on 4 MAJOR events at the job with all but one of them happening before my sabbatical starting on June 16th. All of my creative juices have been dumped there. I also worked an event this past Saturday night for a set of twin girls that turned 25. Mad Hatter theme at a local bar and let me just say that when the DJ played the much requested Sweet Home Alabama, the group of 35 went wild…and most were barefoot…in a bar. ‘Nuff said.

We decided that since I am taking W out of school for eight weeks, we should keep him in the infant room instead of moving him up like he was supposed to do. In August he will make this transition over to the bigger kids room. Several of his buddies are moving on without him though. He will see them beyond the chain-linked fence and they will touch fingertips and toss toys back and forth like a sad, romantic movie. It’s better this way.

And for your reading pleasure, here are the latest escapades and highlights of W’s world…

-First off, poop in the tub is the grossest thing ever and W thinks so too. Yes, it happened one evening and I could hear W exclaiming “Yucky!” over and over while I went to get his pajamas (for you parental watch dogs out there, for the record, W’s room is practically IN the bathroom so I wasn’t out of his sight for less than 5 seconds). At first I wasn’t so sure what the “yucky” was as the tub was filled with foamy bubbles like a giant latte but the truth was soon revealed as he recoiled on his tip toes at one end of the tub and pointed to the tan turd breaching like a baby whale at the other end. I now have OSHA on speed dial.

-W is big into giving hugs and will come at you mid-play and say, “Hug” like it’s a military command. He leans in a little, gives a noncommittal squeeze and then resumes play like it never happened. Occasionally though the hug is accompanied with a kiss, the awkward preteen, open mouth sort with eyes wide open that even gives me pause.

- His vocabulary is huge, people, and it’s totally freaky that he can actually tell me stuff now, in complete sentences and with complete meaning. He might even be keeping a journal. He’s growing much too fast.

-He now sings Melmo’s World and Old MacDonald while playing the piano. So gotta get this on film. He also counts to 5 and can say the first 5 letters of the alphabet as well. Little genius.

-Memorial Day, I awoke at 9. 9! In the a.m.! We usually are up and at ‘em no later than 7. W had gone to bed at his usual 8:30 p.m. I was certain he was either ill…or dead but the god of parenting was smiling on us and neither was true and we were all getting some freebie Zzzzzs. In fact, the last time W was sick was on May 16th so we are fast approaching a record of healthfulness but I have probably just jinxed us by writing this.

More to come…

The Poop We're About To Be In

2007-05-16T12:10:00.000-05:00

How do you know when it’s time to begin the adventures in potty training? W is only 20 months old but I think I’m seeing some major signage, poop flags, if you will. I’ve heard that teaching little boys is a bit more challenging than teaching girls but I think W is seriously considering some toilet time or headed in that general direction at least. On a regular basis and usually in the morning he comes running into whatever room I’m in and says, “Poop poo,” and then heads straight to his room. He stands next to his changing table with his legs spread and hands griping the table like he’s waiting to be frisked. Usually though, he’s a little too early in his poop prediction and there’s nothing in there but air. What he’s telling me though is that merch is on its way and if I hang just a few minutes more then doodie duty will be on.

I bought him a small plastic potty a while back that I unpacked and assembled for him the other day. He has really been enjoying lifting it’s little plastic lid and having a seat on the squishy blue ring while pointing to the adult toilet nearby and requesting a pretend group effort. “Muh-ma, pooh poo, ” he commands. Ahhh…the candid spirit of the young. This morning he wouldn’t let me out of the house until we had a little loo sit-in. I need to get the Hubs in on this. He likes loo lingering and leaves a library of newspapers, crossword puzzles and time management books in his wake. These two could clock some serious quality time in there.

W hasn’t read any books on the subject or seen any DVDs so I better go get some. If there are any suggestions out there on your favorite poop poo productions, please let me know.

On the health front, I awoke to a normal eye this morning. No more corn flakes hanging off the lashes, thank god. The ulcer on the inside of my bottom lip is finally going away so now I don’t look like I had that botched botox job BUT I’m still battling a ribcage rattling cough that turns my lungs inside out and back again like a pair of athletic socks and my throat is raw, raw, raw. My abs, on the other hand, are like a six pack of Red Bulls. Seriously though, enough is enough. The Hubs is begging me to go to the doc but I heard from a friend this morning that I need to get on some Echinacea and garlic so I hit the GNC earlier. Hopefully this will work. I dread the idea of my doc scripting me with some hard core meds. I just don’t do well like that.

Weekend Rewind

2007-05-14T09:35:00.000-05:00

Friday I was feeling like H-E double L so after work, I faked happy, healthy mommyland with W and as soon as his tush was in the crib, I was curled up in bed reading this. Now earlier in the day, I had read about this book on this blog. Amazon.com had awesome reviews about it so I had to get the darn thing stat. As luck would have it, I found it on the shelf at Half Price Books that same day for $9 bones. Score! Now, like I had mentioned I was feeling pretty effing sick at the end of the day and had grand notions of getting some major Zs but when I cracked the spine of this little gem and launched into the first few pages, I was hooked. I am not a reader of the thriller or horror genre but this one had me by the gonads right off. I barreled through the first 15 chapters and, with tired eyes and midnight posted on the clock, I finally decided to turn out the light but was actually too spooked to fall asleep. Remember, the Hubs is still out of town. I clicked the light back on and read another 5. I finished it in broad daylight the next morning. Whew! What a ride! I can’t wait for the movie!

Saturday night, I took myself out for dinner and drinks. I told myself I looked great, picked myself up at 8 p.m. and told myself I was going to have a good time. Me, myself and I ate here where a dear old girlfriend of mine works. When she’s on the floor, I put myself on autopilot and let her do the wine choosing and plate ordering. She delivered wild greens, rabbit and duck to my little spot at the bar and paired them with varied grapes from around the globe. We were chatting away, talking about all sorts of personal things within earshot of everyone in the cozy space. During that time another girlfriend came in with her husband and another gentleman, both of them Brits. We all hunkered down together for some lovely conversation, or should I say, I struggled to understand what they were saying and did a lot of nodding. Turned out, the guy to my left was the road manager/sound dude for Joseph Arthur who was playing later that night. Yeay! After dinner, we all hiked on down to the venue and totally enjoyed the show. It’s been ages since I have flown by the seat of my pants like that and doing it solo was quite refreshing. Needless to say, I awoke in a little fog the next morning but when you've got a kiddo in your orbit, it’s always show time so I got my arse up and took him to school. That’s right, the Growing Spore had childcare on Mother’s Day. I had 5 glorious hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. Days prior I had designs on getting a manicure/pedicure, a massage, my truck cleaned and maybe even squeeze in a movie but instead went back home, took a 2-hour nap, had a crappy lunch at a non-descript Mexican joint and got some shopping therapy at my favorite store, Last Call. When I returned to get W, he was still napping, in the land of nod, 3 whole hours of nap. $35 worth of nap.

The Hubs returns tonight and he’ll be home for 3 whole days! After that he’ll be home for a week and a half. ‘Tis the life of the musical and parental.

Best Question Eva'!

2007-05-12T16:43:00.000-05:00

“Muh-ma, Muh-ma! Air are yew, Muh-maaaa?”

This is what I heard W’s sweet little voice saying from his room just now.

Son, I’m right here, in your orbit, where I always hope to be.

Good Morning Cyclops

2007-05-11T15:10:00.000-05:00

I awoke this morning with the eye grunge that W has been harboring the past week. It’s just in one eye though, one really pissed off, puffed up eye. Nice. When W is down with some bug, I rally my troop of mamas for info and advice. This is always a great plan of action for me because I learn something new every time. Like this for example. I didn’t know that every Thursday this site is updated with the latest bugs that are going around the city. And wouldn’t you know it, W had exactly what they described, that adenovirus crap. I guess I should put the fifth disease as the next thing he’s going to get since it’s listed there. I mean, he’s cleaning up on everything a child can get. Maybe we can get them all knocked out before his 2nd birthday and then he’ll be uber immune toddler. One can hope.

Just Blogging Along

2007-05-10T13:39:00.000-05:00

I just ordered myself a Mother’s Day gift from RedEnvelope.com. Oh yes, I did. I even wrote out the message on the card, too…”Happy Belated Mother’s Day! Love, the Hubs.” I’m sparing him the embarrassment of forgetting such a meaningful and honorable day. Besides, he’s going to be out of town. I’m also getting something I want, a lovely pair of earrings and a necklace to match. All under $61.00. Before shipping.

I took my wilted flower of a son to school today. I tried to ramp his enthusiasm by outdoing myself in the “front seat dancing while driving and singing about school” department. Other drivers think I’m off my rocker. It worked and the school hasn’t called yet to tell us to come get him. He is feeling much better which is a relief. It breaks my heart in a million pieces to see him weak with sickness. Makes it tough for the Hubs and I to get along in the midst as well. He’s got deadlines and work to do, I have an office to report to and it completely stresses us inside and out. It was finals week at area colleges so no last minute students-for-hire could be found. I wonder what other families do when faced with this? I'm looking forward to using the two months I’ll be off this summer to determine if my child is naturally this sick or if school is the culprit. Then we will be able to figure out a better plan of action…different school? Stay-at-home help? Stay-at-home mom? All I know is I really need the Hubs out there writing music and finding artists to sing them and not hanging around the house with a sick child. I’m ready for that ranch/beach house already.

The Hubs is off tomorrow for several days playing gigs so if you’re in Dallas, Lubbock or Los Alamos, New Mexico (huh?) then go see him/them. Also, if anyone is free Saturday night and would like to join me for dinner, I have a dateless date night scheduled. Although I don’t mind drinking alone…like I do…in the closet…several times a week.

Fun, Fun, Family Fun!

2007-05-09T09:30:00.000-05:00

Holy hell! Where have I been? We did an event yesterday in Georgetown so Monday and yesterday were all consumed with those details. The weekend was packed full of family time and almost in the “that is too much quality time” sorta way.

Saturday, we packed up the car and headed out of town to see the Hubs perform. Baby and I totally rocked out. It was the first show W had seen the Hubs play with this particular band and the kid fell into the groove like he was a roadie or something. I worried that he wouldn’t wear his ginormo 70’s style safety headphones to keep the volume turned down in his little ears but he wore them like a champ. He yelled, “Daddie, dittar!” and “Yeayyyyyy!” and high fived the sound guy like they toured together in a past life or something. Bling Bling drove in with her fab son to catch the show. We got shunted up into the balcony seats for a private perspective of the show. That’s always a good thing b/c most of the fans are weirrrrrrrd. I handed W over to Bling and he immediately passed out in her comfy, warm arms.

Our room happened to be the awesome grand suite of this old, haunted hotel and it was totally paid for by the promoter. After the show, I turned in with a sleepy baby in my arms. As I wrestled for the key to unlock the door, a girl came up behind me, her energy a bit charged in the negative direction. I said hello and the smirk on her face barely unfolded as she replied with a “Hey.” As she entered her room I heard her yell out, “This is NOT the grand suite. This is a petite suite and I swear…” and her voice drifted off as she slammed the door. She was part of a wedding party and obviously not happy with her lodging situation. I grinned to myself as I stepped in and locked the door behind. It’s cool to be a rock star’s wife, oh yes it is.

Everyone slept late the next morning, a clear indication to me that the Hubs had partied pretty late and W was getting sick. Check and check. We had plans to meet Gogo and Richard at the zoo and when we got there, the place was just coming alive. We made a beeline to see the monkeys to avoid a later crowd crush and the idea paid off hugely. As we approached the habitat for the silverback gorilla, we saw the male sitting all alone in a clearing sunning himself. He saw us and lumbered very slowly over on all fours and rested his massive frame against the 4 inches of glass that separated us. We all got down to his level and were truly awestruck by his brilliance, size and beauty. He splayed out like an Amazonian ruler waiting for someone to peel him a banana. His eyes looked at us unconcerned and calm. We all silently took in the moment until a family came along and the gorilla rose and walked away. The Hubs and I were very moved by the encounter but it also made us very sad for him and the plight of his diminishing species.

We ran amok for a few hours, dodging the clusters of gawkers and eating really bad food. It was crucial to our plan to make sure the departure home revolved around W's naptime and to make it back in time to hook up with some friends for paella, vino and toddler rompin’. We arrived a tad late but totally enjoyed the visit at their lovely home. We cherish CaCa and her parents and look forward to much more commingling.

P.S. As I assumed W is illin’ again, another bi-monthly germ warfare courtesy of his school, the Growing Spore. He had to come home early Monday but hopefully he can return tomorrow or the Hubs is going to divorce us.

38 Done Over

2007-05-03T09:06:00.000-05:00

So things are getting back to normal here at the Fantasy ranch. The Hubs is riding out the wobbly remains of jet lag but I think the trip has put him on an awesome schedule. The past two mornings he’s been up around 6 a.m. and I awake to both of my boys creeping into the bedroom, sleepy smiles on their faces, as they snuggle in next to me to steal the warmth between the sheets.

Yesterday the Hubs insisted that we pretend that the 2nd was my birthday so I came home from work to a plethora of little surprises. This after I had to go to the school to retrieve W because the Hubs forgot to reinstall the car seat (don’t cha’ know I reminded him several times) and found it missing when he went to strap in the tot. Then I had to take the long way home so the Hubs could race back to finish setting up the goodies. I found balloons (much to W’s delight!), flowers, a box full of homemade, handmade bath products from this place, yummy Italian cheese, salamis, chocolates, Prosecco, and a tape player with headphones attached and on top of a piece of paper that said “Play Me” on it. The Hubs had written me a song, a beautiful song, a “make you tear up and cry like a baby” kinda love song. The last time he wrote me a song, it was about my so called "Perfect World" and how I really needed to get my shit together. Yeah, so I was having issues then. I think that song could've been written for many. If you can relate, wave your hands in the air.

We continued the Italian-themed evening with a lovely dinner at Vespaio (*Personal note to my brother-in-law…I had the sweetbreads, oh yes, I did.) and returned home in the torrential rain completely stuffed and exhausted.

It’s good to have everyone back together, even if it’s for a short while. There’s a busy summer ahead, folks, more travelin’ and solo parenting. Yeehaw!

Older and Tireder

2007-05-01T16:31:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was feeling really sick but stuck it out here at the office, which was a good thing because there was a surprise birthday cake waiting for me at the mothership. I was too nauseous to eat a slice but wrapped one up for later. I came home with W and laid on the couch in abdominal agony. I could tell W knew something was up because he was especially good and content to watch TV and engage in some lo-fi activities. As soon as I got his tiny buns out of the tub and in to bed, I crawled between the sheets all shivery and tired. I was hoping to get at least 10 hours of sleep but W summoned my presence at 5:45 a.m. this morning. I continued to remain horizontal while he inhaled two huge bowls of oatmeal (and I’m not talking the watery, soggy instant stuff, I’m talking the “takes 20 minutes to cook and will pack you out for like two days” kinda stuff) and then we got off to school. He was in a good mood and ready to take on the infant room. I put his groceries away (seriously, it’s like unpacking enough nosh for a college student) as he jumped in to play pretend cook or chef or bossy bachelor with his buddies. As I headed out, I said, “I gotta go to work W. Bye!” and he said, “BYE!” with great earnest and then I said, “I love you!” and he said it right back in front of two teachers and a mom. “I wub ewe.” There was a simultaneous “Awwwww” and I got in my truck totally teary-eyed and thankful for such a beautiful child. Best. Birthday. Present. Ever.

The Hubs comes home tonight. Finally. It’s been twelve days and twelve nights of just me and W. We’ve bonded like 17 times already. Time to share some of the love with the Hubs.

Hubs

2007-04-29T08:28:00.000-05:00

W and I went to Fredericksburg to see Pop Pop, Wella and W's aunt and uncle over the weekend. It's a lovely and quick drive out, an hour and half of Elmo on the laptop and before you know it, we're there. As you can see, W was completely worn out by the good times. He was so tired, he put his paci in backwards and conked right out in his car seat...

W sending an email to his daddy who is still in Italy. He misses you and so do I.

B Cups, Please

2007-04-24T09:30:00.000-05:00

A spring storm is blowing in from the west. It ruffles the leaves of a large palm tree outside the door in such a way that it seems to say “Shhhhh…” incessantly. Speaking of “Shhhhh,” that’s exactly what I wanted to tell the sales lady at Victoria’s Secret yesterday when she told me I was an “A” cup. Actually, what I really wanted to say was “Take that tape measure and all of your overpriced bras and dental floss for underwear and shove them up your pahtootie!”

Thankfully, VS is all about vanity sizing with tons of padding and after much trying on and tugging and stuffing, I managed to walk out of there with 3 “B” cup size bras, just like the old days. There was no way in hell they could sell me that other smaller size and, honestly, I really couldn’t wear it anyway. The cups are the size of eyeglass lenses and since breastfeeding W for like 16 months in a row everything is all mushy and pokey-outie and so I pointed this out to the sales lady (I said, “Hey, my girls are poking out the sides here.” She said, “They’re supposed to do that. Nobody sees that.” And I said, “Well, my husband will and I will and this isn’t going to work so bring me the bigger cup size, damn you!”). So for way more money than padded foam could possibly be worth, the Hubs bought me 3 new bras and a lovely little nightie. Thank you Hubs! Oh, and it will be like 168 more miles on the AMEX card, just so you know.

Here's one from the camera phone.

A Complete Sentence

2007-04-23T09:10:00.000-05:00

“Bird eat cookie.” This is W’s first real sentence put together on his own without any prompting from his mama. Landmark moment. I threw a half eaten piece of cookie out into the yard as I lifted him into his carseat this morning and that was his narration. I was proud, proud, proud and thankful that I could document him saying something sweet and innocent and not snarky and in bad taste, a definite possibility in our colorful little household.

While W has nearly mended from last week’s health deficiencies, I didn’t escape the wrath unscathed. As I write, I sniffle, sneeze, cough and wheeze into tissue after tissue. I honk like a goose in heat and people around me cringe in subtle horror. I have absorbed a milder version of W’s bronchial issue but it’s enough to make me want to scratch the inside of my throat for hours with a round hairbrush and hide under the covers for the rest of the day. Totally stinks.

Say Yeah!

2007-04-20T09:45:00.000-05:00

I awoke to the sweetness of normalcy this morning. The Hubs was flopped on my side of the bed, the birds were practically sitting on our windowsill singing directly in to our bedroom and W was shouting “Mahma! Mahma!” from his crib downstairs. Earlier in the week I was holed up with baby in the guest bed delirious with fatigue and fear as he fought his horrible viruses. Those were turbulent nights/days/hours/minutes, my friends, but all is well now.

After the Hubs climbed into the taxi this morning and headed to the airport, (an event that thrilled the diapers off of W, I mean, a real taxi was at the front door!) I finished the morning routine of getting us dressed and headed out the door. Behind our house is what used to be our studio/guest/rehearsal space/doghouse for the Hubs. It’s now been rented by a friend of mine who is quickly becoming a friend of W’s. While I was upstairs getting the last of our things together, I heard W's friendly little voice call out from the balcony, “Hi Hee-ewe!” as H was leaving for work. This is a first since W usually runs in the other direction when he comes through the back gate. As charming as the moment seemed, I flashed forward to a vision of a modern day Dennis the Menace bothering Mr. Wilson. I already have to keep him from looking in his windows like a minature Peeping Tom. There could be a rental discount in H's future.

Lovely weekend ahead. A good friend from back home is coming to spend the weekend with us. I’ve also secured a sitter for tomorrow night so I can be “just me” with my friends for a few hours and no one's mama or spouse. I got a manicure this morning after dropping W at school just to feel extra feminine and sassy but it took all of my wits to stay awake throughout. Still pretty frayed around the edges and I think I'm feeling something suspiciously tickly in my throat but I'm sure I can beat it with lots of vitamin C and vino. It’s been a very long and spooky week but, thankfully, we made it through and the weekend is looking really good.

Clap Your Hands

2007-04-19T09:09:00.000-05:00

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post or wrote to me directly. W is doing much better today which means he wanted macaroni and cheese for breakfast, danced on the bar to the Arcade Fire and asked to “Whash paci?” when I was at the sink doing my makeup before work. While we were enduring the worst moments of the illnesses, all I could do was wonder how other parents did it, too. Single parents, those with several children, or those without much money. My heart went out to them in understanding and empathy. You have to walk a mile in someone’s shoes to get it, huh? I do know that as a parent something inside of you kicks in, a tremendous will, a determination to fight for whatever your child needs at all cost, and you just do it. You stay up all night every night, you cuddle for hours on end, you respond to every whimper, and you try to keep serenity in the home despite the unfamiliar horror of it all. And then you cry with relief in the shower when it’s all finally over. I never thought I’d be taking my son to the ER at nineteen months of age but I am so grateful it wasn’t more serious than it was.

The Hubs leaves on a trip in the morning to Italy for 12 days and returns on my birthday. I am green with envy but more happy that he has the opportunity to go song write in such an amazing place. This is what he should be doing and it’s been a long time coming. Bring us home a number one single, darling.

Muy Enfermo

2007-04-18T08:15:00.000-05:00

It’s been a rollercoaster ride the last two days, folks. Remember that supremely undesirable disease that W picked up that made everyone run in the opposite direction? The one that should’ve been treated by the neighborhood veternarian? Well, he took it to the next level Monday evening and not just any level, my friends, but the level of pneumonia. Tis’ true.

On Monday after returning from a rather bland day at the office, I found a calmer, quieter version of my normally active W chillin’ on the couch. I didn’t expect any significant changes since he was already under viral attack but I thought he was on the mend. What I found was his small chest cavity straining for breath, each contraction a push for air. To look at his face, you wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was going on but his tiny frame moved with effort in a dramatic way. I called the after hours nurse and she said to medicate his fever (which was taking hold yet again) and to watch him. If he didn’t improve then the ER needed to check him out. Now I’m the kind of person who waits a bit to make sure a trip to the ER is absolutely necessary. The wait is long, the tests painful and the place totally scary. The Hubs, on the other hand, would go to the ER if he had a hangnail.

W and I snuggled up in the guest bedroom and we drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of hours before I decided that the situation was too much to bear. At 3:30 a.m., I startled the Hubs out of a deep sleep and off we went. Four hours we spent in the ER. Four hours of very kind nurses holding my frightened child down to insert an IV, to give him shots, to take pictures of his chest. The whole time W looked at me wild eyed, pleaded with tears to make it stop. After the IV had been removed and I sat him up, he immediately began signing “All done” and saying the words simultaneously in a hopeful, eager tone. Totally heartbreaking. The x-ray revealed pneumonia in his left lung so we did a round with the nebulizer which helped enormously. We were given a script to be filled and told to see his pediatrician so he could determine if W needed to be admitted to Children’s Hospital. Gasp! The next morning (we had all slept an hour and a half), W was almost entirely his regular, happy self and put on a very friendly but misleading show for Dr. G. He was chatty and charming and a little gentleman. Thankfully Dr. G knew the smoke and mirrors were a result of the meds and said to keep an eye on him for changes. Thank goodness we weren't bound for the Children's Hospital!

Last night was better except for the fact that I had given W a dose of some medication for his cough that according to the pharmacist “might make him a little hyper.” A little? He was practically break dancing off the walls when Miss Jo came over. Freak out. I won’t be administering that med anymore. Too dangerous for all of us.

W and I almost got a full night’s sleep last night so that’s a good sign. Fingers crossed that all will be well and back to normal very soon.

Enfermo

2007-04-16T15:25:00.001-05:00

Who’s up for another episode of Sick Baby In The Big Purple House? This time we are home to the dreaded hand, foot, and mouth virus. I wrote last week or so about the fact that this little number was tearing through the members of the older classroom at W’s school. I knew W was doomed to get it when I was told he had been playing lately with the older kids in an effort to ease his upcoming transition in June to the 18+ month-old sect. Now switch to this past Saturday morning. W and I enjoyed breakfast with Miss Jo on the east side and then we went to see a friend who was prepping for a garage sale. Things seemed relatively normal with the kiddo. W was his predictable shy, clingy self, but when we went to Toys R Us, I realized I had an emerging situation on my hands. We all know how overly stimulating that place is with its giant plastic toy displays, it’s hyper-active birthday parties with sugar amped kids yelling “Happy Birthday So and So!” at the tops of their screeching lungs over and over as they move through the store like a pack of wild wolf pups, and how every aisle has at least two children “trying out” a toy while a parent is pleading for them to stop or watch out or I’m leaving you here (which is exactly what they want to happen). W just sat there like a wilted flower in the cart, a package of monster truck cars in his lap, his grip slack as the fever slowly took hold. It wasn’t until we got home and were sitting on the couch talking about where our eyes, nose and teeth were when I saw that his tiny tongue had reddish spots on it. “Oh no!” I yelled in my head as I looked closely at his hands and feet. Like an image coming in to focus under a microscope, I realized the stigmata on each limb, blisters, clear signs of the attack on his immune system.

So we spent the rest of the beautiful weekend doing nothing. W became Velcro Baby, preferring contact with me to the Hubs. The pain of the ulcers in his mouth and most likely a sore throat made eating agonizing for him. At night he and I shared the guest bed so I could be there to offer him water from his favorite Elmo sippy cup when needed (W has decided that water is now called “Pi” so he repeats “Pi peas, pi peas.”). We tossed and turned like a dingy in stormy waters through the wee hours of the mornings, W insisting on sleeping directly on top of me. Poor little guy, every other week it’s some sort of battle with a daycare bug. It’s frustrating and sad to see him so puny so often. Is this really part of the deal? Can I make a new deal?

Such A Scream

2007-04-13T09:33:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, while lounging with W on the sofa (translation: I lay there while W climbs up on the arm of the couch, supporting himself by holding on to the piano and then leaps like Spiderbaby on to my legs and cushions over and over and over), he managed to smack his giant noggin’ on my nose not once but twice. The first time I saw stars and wanted to cry. The second time I saw the man in the moon. It was like being whacked with a baseball thrown by Roberto Clemente (I didn’t know who that was until I Googled “baseball star”). And then he did it again. Oh my freakin’ hello dolly, it hurt! At that point, actual lounging on the sofa was out of the question as I waited for a gush of blood to spill forth. A few days later, the Hubs was tossing W around and he had a similar experience except W’s foot smacked him in the nose. The Hubs had to take a time out and headed in the other direction in anticipation of his nose falling off in his hands. I could totally relate.

Three days in the gym so far this week. I’m an exercising fool but I just cringe from the sweaty armpit smell that owns the place and the glossy residue of other exercisers creeping me out on all of the equipment. I’m still reacquainting myself with the machines. It’s been a while. I’m the type of person that sips her water bottle while nonchalantly glancing at the instructions on how not to maim yourself while pretending I’m just rehydrating and about to do some serious reps. I hate to look like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’d laugh at me if I saw me working out. I also don’t walk around the locker room totally naked like most of the women do. My towel cuts off my circulation it’s on so tight. This morning a woman was practically dressing in the actual workout area she was so close to the door. I do most of my dressing still bearing my towel which results in my underwear being totally bunched in my crack, my bra twisted around my torso like barbed wire, and my clothes spilling haphazardly out of the locker. Yeah, I need to get a grip.

Spring Flinger

2007-04-12T09:04:00.000-05:00

I’ve had to take a couple of days to get my blogging brain back on course. It had been brought to my attention that I had offended a few family members with something I had written a while back and for that, I am regretful. Since I write for my own self-absorbed pleasure, I have a tendency to forget there is an audience out there and that this blog serves as a channel of familial info for some of its readers. And speaking of readers, did you know I know who you are? Thanks to certain Big Brother aspects of blogging, I am able to see where you live. What’s so amazing about this is I’m able to note that some readers are from across the pond, in Canada, and several in California, among other places. Truly awesome.

Life has been going at a clip and spring is spreading out before us like a huge welcome mat. I anxiously await the warmer days to swim in icy cold pools with W, slurp juicy raspas in the park and visit with friends over tangy, homemade margaritas. The trees have suddenly burst with brand new bright green leaves and the length of the grass in our yard has doubled in length after being dormant over the winter. Last night, we grilled salmon and asparagus on the patio (well, not literally ON the patio). W and the Hubs played ball or what really translates to W running willy-nilly, laughing wildly, and throwing the ball directly behind his petite frame. We sipped white wine, smooched and gave thanks for all that we have. And we meant it.

I received news last night that my boss has graciously given me two months off this summer, totally unpaid, but off nonetheless. I did six backhand springs and two toe touches in slow motion when I got the email. What does this mean? Ohhhhh, so many things! It means W and I can go see family and really start building a foundation for his roots to take hold, to know where he comes from. First order of business is to get to Kentucky to see my brother and his family (this means a night or two in Nashville, Wendielu!). They live on the edge of a beautiful pond perfect for fishing and swimming. There are horses to ride just down the road. His two toe headed daughters flank W in age, one is a tad older and one is a bit younger. Perfect ages to torment him as little girls can. Here they are…

The Hubs is off this evening and tomorrow night opening for the Old 97’s. If you’re in Houston tonight, go see ‘em. If you’re in Austin tomorrow night go see ‘em at Stubb’s. Buy some merch, drink a few and enjoy yourself.

Dramatic W

Can You See The Real Me?

2007-04-09T16:44:00.000-05:00

We had a wildly successful wine-O event but W and I didn’t make it to the family reunion. It had nothing to do with the hangover that flirted with the edges of my brain and stomach lining and never really took hold but had everything to do with the fact that it was 37 degrees and raining out. Oh, and W took a glorious 4 hour nap. The Hubs made it out to see the kin but texted me to say “Dont come out.” Thankfully, due to one unexpected drop-in and one planned dinner, I got to see a couple of the family members in the flesh.

Yesterday was pure bliss. Sorta seemed like someone had added a couple of extra bonus hours to the day. We ventured out to Central Market for some vittles but found it closed. We headed, instead, to Whole Foods, a place I was putting off visiting for as long as possible because I knew I would walk in the door and pass out from the wonderfulness of it in front of everyone. I wasn’t so sure the place would be open but the Hubs reminded me that they are a publicly traded company and they’ve got a bottom line to eyeball. It was buzzing with people and when I say “buzzing” I mean like a pissed off hive of them. W and I were overwhelmed and over stimulated. I felt like I was at a gourmet food convention and there was no way I was gonna see all the sights in one visit. I suggested to the Hubs that we come back on date night sometime to graze at all of the feeding troughs and drink some major vino.

Does anyone really know how to do those damned Sudoku puzzles? I have tried and had to look in the back of the book for the stupid solutions every time. Most frustrating part is that the ones I’ve been attempting to do are the easy ones. I’m totally screwed.

So I did something this morning I have never done in my life…showered at the gym. I tripled the normal amount of gear I schlepped to the car (work clothes, personal items, towels, hairdryer, lotion, so on and so on), took W to school, and got my tail in there for some cardio and ab work. After the workout, I begrudgingly went through a modified version of my at-home morning routine but quickly began to realize how much I was enjoying the moment. Why? Why was I okay with strange women coming in and seeing my blinding white arse? Because no one talked to me, no one needed anything from me, no one was calling me Mama, or asking for a “Waffu, pwease” or fake crying or hanging on my leg. I rediscovered what time to myself felt like and it effin’ ROCKED! I’m so there on Wednesday.

Baby Knows Best

2007-04-06T12:40:00.000-05:00

Shorty has bounced back and is making up for lost time since that weird 24 hour illness he had. I’m glad he’s feeling like a rockstar. Taking care of a sick kid sucks and to top it off, the Hubs groans that he feels like he’s getting sick every single time the tot is under the weather.

W was screaming and yelling and running amok this morning in the best way. The Hubs and I happened to engage in a brief snit that raised our voices just below a shout and W jumped in, gesturing madly, pacing, and shaking his fists. That made us stop and watch and then we shut the hell up. Gotta be careful how we say things these days. He’s a good little reminder of how ridiculous we can be. He endeared me to him when he insisted I sit with his new Matchbox racecar at the breakfast nook table and say “Voom” over and over. “Mumma, sit dun pwease,” he’d ask every time I try to continue cleaning the kitchen. The kid has definitely realized that ‘please’ is the magic word around here and opens the door to all that he wants. Soon I’ll have to teach him that this really isn’t the case and that the world is completely unfair. Maybe that’s a good job for the Hubs.

TGIF, but it’s supposed to be effin’ cold tomorrow. Like 40-something degrees! With rain! That’s a lot of soggy in-laws at the reunion. The same thing happened 3 years ago when the event was held in San Antonio. Thunder, lightning, the tent was nearly lifted off its poles. At one point a prayer was being said to acknowledge all that had passed. The aggressive wind whipped up hair-dos and brightly colored skirts. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Hubs tear off like a freaked out cat and hide in a nearby house. The guy’s terrified of lightning and is certain that any bolt that hits the earth is headed for his noggin. If tomorrow is anything like that then we will have to miss the big day. And, of course, I just packed away all of my winter clothing into the attic.

Wine chugging, I mean, tasting tonight. I’ll have much to report. The cast of characters is a unique one. Should make things very interesting.

Wendielu, this is for you...

Family Affair

2007-04-05T16:40:00.000-05:00

W is sick yet again. He seems to be sleeping through it completely. I think he’s been awake a total of an hour today. I stayed home till 2 but needed to head to the office to finish up unfinished business. I’m waiting for the little guy to surface so I can try to access what exactly is wrong. It’s fever-oriented and it comes and goes. Around 5 a.m. this morning he was all clammy and drenched. I gave him his Elmo sippy cup and he nearly drained the entire thing. In fact, he fell asleep while he was drinking it in my arms. Such a bummer to have him ill again. Daycare is the culprit, I’m sure.

*Note: I just got an email from another mommy whose little guy attends W’s school. Seems he’s got the “hand, foot, and mouth” virus. He’s in a different class but viruses know no boundaries. The virus is caused by contact with poop. Poop, people.

We have a huge weekend of family ahead of us. Saturday is a family reunion of massive proportions. The Hubs is Hispanic and so his extended family is rather enormous. We are taking over a park next to Lake Austin somewhere. There will be a silent auction, music, tons of food, and a family photo taken. I’m thinking panoramic here. My mother asked that I take many pictures. I told her that when she sees them she’ll think we are in Mexico.

Friday, the Hubs is hosting a small wine tasting at our house which seemed like a bad idea to me simply because getting somewhat sloshed the day before the reunion may have lingering adverse affects. Now W is illin’ so that adds a whole new layer to the bad idea pie. I also have no desire to clean the house or prepare some nibbles for this thing. I didn’t conjure this in to being, he did, so he can play Martha Stewart for once. I’m just going to sit back and enjoy myself and of course, I’ll clean the mess up in the morning.

Pimp My Blog

2007-04-04T16:58:00.001-05:00

As you can see I have a brand spankin’ new masthead! It is the brainchild of Daddyshack who kindly offered to redo my page for free, for the experience. I think he did a wonderful job! If you are interested in having him do one for you, drop him a line.

Commited

2007-04-03T09:55:00.000-05:00

A sickly sweet stench fills my truck. I can smell it each time I climb in. It’s origin is a mystery but I’m sure W has something to do with it…discarded fruit roll up, half emptied apple juice box, baggie of orange slices stuffed in a crease in the seat. Must dig around before it evolves into a homemade penicillin specimen.

Communication with the sprout has been so delightful lately. Seems like just overnight his infantile babbling has shifted to subject-verb or subject-direct object with real meaning and desire. “Larder (water), pwease.” “Hep up!” “Mumma big truck.” “Raycar fast, varoooom!” The other evening I was enjoying some soup that the Hubs had made earlier in the day and I was telling W that it was hot soup, yummy soup, that Dada made the soup, etc. W chimed in saying “Soup hot. Hot soup. Mama soup. Hot mama. Hot mama.” Fantastic!

Lately I’ve been more torn than usual between my responsibility to my job and to my son. I think all working moms go through this. It might have more to do with the longer daylight hours, that childhood sense that school will be out for the summer, and wanting to climb into a car or plane and go away with the family for a long while. Realistically though I feel like I’m missing out on so many small things that he’s doing now in leaps and bounds. Everything he does is like receiving a little gift, each one different and unique from the other. I want to be there for as much of it as possible. His teachers are the main recipients of said gifts and although they love and adore him, he’s not their child so they don’t reel with wonder and amazement at his small feats. Tearing myself away from him each morning is still just as heartbreaking as it was the first time I took him to daycare except now he says my name and runs to attach himself to my legs like a baby octopus or just flops in defeat into the lap of Miss Amy and sobs. In the mornings, I can hear his little voice calling out my name like an urgent request. He immediately heads upstairs to find me getting dressed for work. The sight of me is a relief to him. I can see it in his lit up expression but I hate knowing that his lovely squinty-eyed smile will soon be replaced with tears.

Then there’s the other side of the coin, the one that makes me wonder if I could actually spend all that time at home and surrender my professional self…and sanity. I go stir crazy when I don’t have projects of some magnitude on my plate. There’s only so many weeds, so much laundry, grocery shopping, tiding up and isolation one can experience before the mommy madness sets in.

I guess I’m looking for some flexibility but what I want to ask for I need to be committed to like a religion to make it work. It’s all a balancing act, a very complicated and stressful balancing act.

Ozone Depleter

2007-03-30T13:59:00.000-05:00

Although I am quite a tomboy, a guy-girl through and through, I do have a few feminine qualities. Okay, now that I give it some thought I probably only have about two or three. The biggest one I have is that I don’t break wind in mixed company. The Hubs and I have been together for about 7.5 years and I could probably count on two fingers the times I have contributed to ozone depletion in his presence. Last night, however, I think I sunk an iceberg somewhere. Part of the previous night’s meal included beans cooked with garlic, onions, a ham hock and a jalapeno. I also made it a staple at yesterday’s lunch. The time between then and when I went to bed was just enough to manufacture it into toxic gas form. I tucked myself in to bed before the Hubs to read for a spell. He joined me a little while later and as we rehashed how much I hated the movie Borat, an atrocity we had just tried to watch, I released what I thought was a well contained, stuffed under the covers and never to see the light of day, fart but within seconds, his body stiffened next to mine and he waved his hand frantically in front of his nose. “Did you just let one?” he asked in a voice filled with disbelief. I immediately felt my face get warm and I wanted to stick my head under the sheets in shame but I knew that was a really bad idea. “What, are you a trucker? Brutus?” he quizzed. “Who’s Brutus?” I choked through laughs. “That fat guy on the Popeye cartoon!” At this point tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t stop laughing, the embarrassment was too much to bear. “Oh my God, that’s the worst ever!” he cried out. Yes, yes it was.

I have several girlfriends that have no qualms about stinking up the joint and claiming it. I don’t mind if they do it when I’m around. I just don’t want to share the experience with anyone. But I’ll tell, you about it.

W Needs A Haircut

2007-03-30T11:34:00.000-05:00

I whacked on W's hair last night, just a nip here and there. Getting him to sit still for a full on cut would be impossible. I fear taking him to a barber because the styles simply suck...the buzz cut, the crew cut, the Ceasar, the horrendous bowl cut or the little business man's cut. The mama's cut is what he's getting and it's free.

These were taken before the trim and therefore inspired me to get to choppin'...