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Archive for May, 2009

This is how our first week of summer was spent…

week4

Chug-a-luggin' smoothies. Now I can add Blender to my list of Food Making Thingys Christy Can Opperate. Toaster, you are no longer alone.

I was unaware healthy all natural fruit smoothies are the Rum of the toddler/preschooler set. I swear they got totally wasted off them. Keaton is at the "I love you, man" stage in this picture.

I was unaware healthy all natural fruit smoothies are the Rum of the toddler/preschooler set. I swear they got totally wasted off them. Keaton is at the "I love you, man" stage in this picture.

Also new? Curls. And LOTS of them.

Also new? Curls. And LOTS of them.

And Lord help me I did a hooker make-up job on my three year old.

And Lord help me I did a hooker make-up job on my three year old.

Rowan took it upon herself to teach her brother a new thing...

Rowan took it upon herself to teach her brother a new thing...

Slow dancing. Because "He's gotta learn to be a Prince sooner or later".

Slow dancing. Because "He's gotta learn to be a Prince sooner or later".

There were a couple of giggly mis-steps...

There were a couple of giggly mis-steps...

but they helped each other back up again.

but they helped each other back up again.

A messy but pretty solid start.

A messy but pretty solid start.

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The pink is now baby blue...

The pink is now baby blue...

and the bows are on.

and the bows are on.

Rowan’s dress rehearsal is tonight and I have been terrified for months over how I would get her hair all curlified. She HATES curling irons with a passion and the heat of a thousand fiery suns. She’s so sensitive to things on her head- she will consent to binders and barrettes but is always so grateful when I take them out before bed. I really didn’t want to get all stage mommy on her ass but she’s supposed to look like a creepy pageant child, and though part of me is disgusted with the beautification of little girls who are so so beautiful without fake curls and eyeshadow and insane amounts of blush- the other part of me just wanted to play dress up with her. What? She’s like a REAL LIVE DOLL! And I gave birth to her, dammit! So we tried these…

trans1trans3trans4trans5trans2trans6

She was very surprisingly good while I put them in, with the help of a national geographic DVD, books read by dad and OK fine some licorice and jelly beans. I was really worried about how she would sleep on them but other than having a little trouble finding a comfy spot, she did great. I will take them out in about an hour and depending on how they turn out we’ll have to rinse and repeat this whole thing for Saturday’s recital.

In the mean time I solemnly swear not to sign her up for the tri-county Little Miss Show Girl pageant.

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OK, OK back to reality. We had a full holiday weekend- here are the highlights.

Friday we took it easy. Bill spent some time with the kids while I read a book. A book with big girl words and like, no pictures. I had been reading regularly for a while there but then I spent every spare minute over the last two months watching Lost and then some more Lost and good god Still More Lost. Now sadly, Lost is done for the season and we finished re-watching all four previous seasons. The first night after we were done Bill and I just kind of stared at each other like Hmmm…do I know you from somewhere? So after the formal introductions of Hello, My name is Christy. I am your wife and Hi, I’m Bill. I’m the guy you boss around a lot. We had to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives.

Bill has had a lot of work to bring home plus some freelance on top of that so he retreated to the computer and I looked at my book collection kind of blankly thinking, Yes! Books! I’ve heard of these on TV. Sometimes Sawyer reads them. And then I started The Time Traveler’s Wife and what do you know! It was about time travel and a wife! Both good things! And a easy transition from Lost due to the time travel plot of season 5. Lots of the same themes like, can you change the future etc. etc Except that the book’s characters mostly accept that they cannot but don’t nobody tell Jack Shepard/John Locke what they can or can’t do. Because they will tell you to go piss up a rope. Or throw a knife in your back. Or blow some shit up. Or tackle you. (You get the picture, right?)

Anyway (Go ahead and say it, It doesn’t ALWAYS have to be about Lost, Christy. Get over it. That was SO 13 days ago) here is what we did the rest of the weekend…

?

?

Oh, hmmm…yeah, there should be some pictures up there, shouldn’t there?

Oh wait, that’s right, I FORGOT MY CAMERA.

Bill’s parents took the kids Saturday after Rowan’s last dance class to be kept until Sunday afternoon and we decided to be uncharacteristic and do something Spontaneous and Impulsive and Fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pantsish. So we packed a bag of overnight necessities and drove up north. Bill wasn’t feeling the greatest due to a Poison Work Brat but we basked in the silence of no screaming children and the warm spring sunshine.

We picked out a B&B at Duluth’s visitor’s center and found our way through the city’s ridiculously terrible unmarked and potholey streets. Seriously, Duluth- there are people who can help you. I think they are called Tax Payers and Construction Workers or Road Pavers or something. Look into it. My car almost fell through to Hades and our insurance doesn’t cover Brimstone damage. If I had had my camera I would have taken pictures of the potholes and named them and you would all be very indignant along with me right now.

We stayed at the A.G. Thompson House and man, our room was so peaceful. It had a little sun porch and I curled up on the sofa and read my book. I felt just like a cat must; soaking in the afternoon rays, being pleasantly baked. We went shopping and out to dinner and three x’s later we snuggled on the couch and watched a movie. The sheets were scented with lilac which is just…ahhhh. So every time I woke up in the early morning I would take a huff and fall back asleep.

The next day we walked the pier and watched a ship come in. Um, I don’t know if you know this but ships are big. They could totally whoop an airplane’s ass. Very intimidating. I felt so small.

On the way home I KILLED Bill in our roadkill/inanimate object game. He had skunks and buckets and I had raccoons and shoes. Deer are wilds. Let’s just say it was not a good weekend for raccoons or their innards.

After picking up the kids we went to my nieces 11th birthday party where we were visited by the marketing team for Sierra Mist’s Ruby Splash. They gave us these awesome glassessung

and enough sugary pop to last the whole summer. The beer marketers are much more entertaining because, unfailingly, you get a PhD student in the tightest shirt and tiniest shorts you have ever seen hitting on your husband. (But only for marketing purposes.) Alas, these were very family oriented people who just wanted our picture looking all happy and shit while holding their product, which is like Fresca but less old lady-ish.

Other party highlights include:

Rowan and her best Ellie Belle relaxing in the hammock. Rowan's buttcheeks and feet kept falling through but that's what happened when you weigh less than 30 pounds.

Rowan and her best Ellie Belle relaxing in the hammock. Rowan's buttcheeks and feet kept falling through. Ah, well.

"Who dressed me like a nerd-ball?" Well son, technically it was me but grandma is responsible for purchasing the plaid shorty overalls.

"Who dressed me like a nerd-ball?" Well son, technically it was me but grandma is responsible for purchasing the plaid shorty overalls.

This was the best view for watching Jay mix the painkillers from his very recent knee surgury with alcohol. We love our Deputy Chief Fire Idiot.

This was the best view for watching Jay mix the painkillers from his very recent knee surgery with alcohol. We love our Deputy Chief Fire Idiot.

This was the day my son loved guacomole. Now you can thank me for retouching this picture as he was covered in it. It looked like he went diving in boogers.

This was the day I learned my son loves guacamole. Now you can thank me for retouching this picture as he was covered in it. It looked like he went diving in boogers.

The next day our little family took off to Minnehaha Falls  park to picnic, walk around and enjoy the outdoors*. Here are the pictures:

JUST KIDDING!

Forgot the camera. Again. HI. I’M CHRISTY. I spend a frillion dollars on a camera so it can keep the pets company while we’re away. Now that we’re all caught up, THE END.

*Well, it went more like: get drive-thru McDonalds, decide to be cheap and drive around the park for free parking, end up eating in the car, giving up and getting cash for the main parking lot, finding a free spot on the way back from being charged $800 in ATM fees, and then exposing our children to lots of overweight smokers who don’t watch their kids. The ghetto really comes out in droves for the holidays. But Rowan caught a Caterpillar so it was ALL worth it, for her at least.

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Playing a game only the two of you understood?

Playing a game only the two of you understood?

running only for the joy of it?

Running only for the joy of it?

Unleashed...

Unleashed...

in the wide open...

in the wide open...

for the very first time

for the very first time.

And finding one of these was right up there with buried treasure.

And finding one of these was right up there with buried treasure.

Have a very happy No Parking (Fire Lane) Weekend, everyone.

Have a very happy No Parking (Fire Lane) Weekend, everyone.

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Internets, how’s your morning going?

This is how my morning is going:

pottypotty2potty3

I was out on the deck, cleaning the windows like a good obedient housewife (OK, everybody now…HAHAHAHAHA). Keaton was enjoying his granola snack on the deck chair. While I was busy windexing 1 year of dirt off the sliding door he sneaked over to my pile of paper towels and proceeded to throw them off the balcony. But Christy, you ask. These are clearly pictures of bibs and washcloths residing inside your toilet. Not pictures of your sorry pajamaed ass chasing dirty paper towels down the street. Just wait, I tell you. There is more.

So I take Keaton inside where he is safely gated in and run outside before the towels ride this LOVELY WIND we’ve been having to  central Canada. When I come back in I hear the toilet seat go up and crash down and I know it’s too late. I’ve resigned myself to whatever it is and when I find him he is extremely excited and proud of his handiwork. Thankfully the toilet had JUST been scrubbed-  it still had the cleaner in it, and the bibs and washcloths were dirty. Really I think he actually just saved me a rinse cycle.

potty6

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So here we are, a little over a month past Luna’s run in with a ’89 Kawasaki Ninja* and my promise that I would train the beast, er, dog. I can tell you that I have purchased training treats, dug out the little clickity clicker thing and even gone so far as to attempt a few sessions. So, see? That is what they call INITIATIVE and EFFORT.

That’s kinda where I lose it though. She does best in short 7-10 minute sessions where we run down our list of oldies but goodies like “sit” “lay down” “up” “off” and “dance” (I will admit to making her dance, laughing and then losing interest in the rest because COME ON, my dog knows how to dance what else does she really need to know.) I have even dusted off what little I remember from puppy training pre gate-gate incident and have been working on “Stay” with her.

The issue we’re having is that she does excellent in these sessions but it all goes out the window once the training treats are put away.  I use the same language and reward her in a firm but happy tone when she does well but then she looks at me like this:

lunakea3

Where is my treat, bitch. I want that you put it in my mouth now. Am unamused.

Now I know I could buy one of those super fashionable fanny pack or Home Depot nail holder satchel thingers so that I can have stinky dog treats on my person all day long but you KNOW Keaton will eat more of them than Luna if I attempt that and, well…I don’t wanna. So there.

I know I have to take responsibility for caring for our animals and training is a part of that but it gets really overwhelming when I am in the trenches of training a human being at the same time.Rowan needs love and direction but is trained in the art of humanly living for the most part. She knows how to be polite, how to use utensils, does her business in the potty, is capable of cleaning up after herself, and can entertain herself for substantial amounts of time. Keaton however can do none of these things and though it would be simplifying things greatly (and be a little disturbing) if I compared raising a toddler to training a dog, I’m totally going to do it anyway. They are both uncouth, slobbery little creations that like to sniff/play with feces, eat by diving face first (though I will say Luna is a WAY neater eater (Haha, anybody want a peanut) than Mr. K), get so overly excited they trip and fall down, whine if I leave the room and pee on the floor (note to Keaton and Luna: QUIT PEEING ON THE FLOOR).

We do no such thing. Except for we do. Come on! It's funny!

We do no such thing. Except for we do. Come on! It's funny!

It might be in everybody’s best interest if I just try and get Keaton through the next year or so of his life so I can focus better on Luna Mae later. OR perhaps I should get one of the nail/treat holder things and put Luna’s treats in one side and granola bites for Keaton in the other and they can learn at the same time. Hmm, am I a terrible parent for thinking that or just really really smart? I think smart. TERRIBLY SMART.

Anyways, that is where we are at, I will let you know how we are progressing (or more likely not) in a month or so.

Pee peas's in a pod.

Two pee peas in a pod.

*Once upon a time on a beautifully warm spring evening a young family of four went for a walk with their rowdy little dog. Afterwards they stopped in the center common area of their development to throw the ball to said rowdy pup and bask in the perfectness of life tra-la-la. The birds were chirping, the light breeze was warm on their faces, the children were full of spring and giggles and then the stupid fucking dog spotted another stupid fucking dog, booked ass across the road to sniff stupid fucking dog #2’s butt but instead was met with the front wheel of a stupid fucking motorcycle. Stupid fucking dog ran off unharmed, motorcycle went BOOM CRASH and kerching, kerching. THE END.

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So here we are, a little over a month past Luna’s run in with a ’89 Kawasaki Ninja* and my promise that I would train the beast, er, dog. I can tell you that I have purchased training treats, dug out the little clickity clicker thing and even gone so far as to attempt a few sessions. So, see? That is what they call INITIATIVE and EFFORT.

That’s kinda where I lose it though. She does best in short 7-10 minute sessions where we run down our list of oldies but goodies like “sit” “lay down” “up” “off” and “dance” (I will admit to making her dance, laughing and then losing interest in the rest because COME ON, my dog knows how to dance what else does she really need to know.) I have even dusted off what little I remember from puppy training pre gate-gate incident and have been working on “Stay” with her.

The issue we’re having is that she does excellent in these sessions but it all goes out the window once the training treats are put away.  I use the same language and reward her in a firm but happy tone when she does well but then she looks at me like this:

lunakea3

Where is my treat, bitch. I want that you put it in my mouth now. Am unamused.

Now I know I could buy one of those super fashionable fanny pack or Home Depot nail holder satchel thingers so that I can have stinky dog treats on my person all day long but you KNOW Keaton will eat more of them than Luna if I attempt that and, well…I don’t wanna. So there.

I know I have to take responsibility for caring for our animals and training is a part of that but it gets really overwhelming when I am in the trenches of training a human being at the same time.Rowan needs love and direction but is trained in the art of humanly living for the most part. She knows how to be polite, how to use utensils, does her business in the potty, is capable of cleaning up after herself, and can entertain herself for substantial amounts of time. Keaton however can do none of these things and though it would be simplifying things greatly (and be a little disturbing) if I compared raising a toddler to training a dog, I’m totally going to do it anyway. They are both uncouth, slobbery little creations that like to sniff/play with feces, eat by diving face first (though I will say Luna is a WAY neater eater (Haha, anybody want a peanut) than Mr. K), get so overly excited they trip and fall down, whine if I leave the room and pee on the floor (note to Keaton and Luna: QUIT PEEING ON THE FLOOR).

We do no such thing. Except for we do. Come on! It's funny!

We do no such thing. Except for we do. Come on! It's funny!

It might be in everybody’s best interest if I just try and get Keaton through the next year or so of his life so I can focus better on Luna Mae later. OR perhaps I should get one of the nail/treat holder things and put Luna’s treats in one side and granola bites for Keaton in the other and they can learn at the same time. Hmm, am I a terrible parent for thinking that or just really really smart? I think smart. TERRIBLY SMART.

Anyways, that is where we are at, I will let you know how we are progressing (or more likely not) in a month or so.

Pee peas's in a pod.

Two pee peas in a pod.

*Once upon a time on a beautifully warm spring evening a young family of four went for a walk with their rowdy little dog. Afterwards they stopped in the center common area of their development to throw the ball to said rowdy pup and bask in the perfectness of life tra-la-la. The birds were chirping, the light breeze was warm on their faces, the children were full of spring and giggles and then the stupid fucking dog spotted another stupid fucking dog, booked ass across the road to sniff stupid fucking dog #2’s butt but instead was met with the front wheel of a stupid fucking motorcycle. Stupid fucking dog ran off unharmed, motorcycle went BOOM CRASH and kerching, kerching. THE END.

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