Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for October, 2009

Pumpkin Killahs

I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of tonight or if she has just gone off her rocker but Rowan is driving us to the nut house today. In between time-outs and lectures we managed to get a couple of pumpkins carved. Bill and I were both ready to skewer the kid after she kept drawing tiny detailed scenes on her pumpkin after we repeatedly told her that in order to carve it she needed to draw only a big face.

When she FINALLY drew a face big enough, we praised her up and Bill went to work with the knife. She looked at us, sort of horrified and asked why, after all that work, were we killing her pumpkin? That little sentence reminded us why we love this kid so much. Well, until 2 minutes later when she flung pumpkin goo at her dad “accidentally on purpose” and she landed herself back in time out.

Here’s to hoping everyone out there survives Halloween and the avalanching sugar blues that are sure to follow!10.31.110.31.310.31.610.31.510.31.4

Read Full Post »

Before

before

Before I lived in more than one room.

Before I quit smoking.

Before I started drinking good (OK, fine BETTER) wine. (That glass most assuredly holds the fruits of a jug of Carlo Rossi.)

Before I lived in the respectable, boring suburbs.

Before I didn’t have enough hours in the day.

Before Bear peed on the carpet one too many times.

Before I couldn’t afford to put highlights in my hair.

Before my sunflower seeds were choking hazard contraband.

Before I had a couch that wouldn’t be a concern to the health department.

Before Fawksey was a 14 pounder.

Before an unattended Diet Coke meant certain doom for the carpet.

Before I had to conceal my olives to ensure I wouldn’t have to share.

Before naps for myself became a mysterious, mythical legend.

Before I was happy.

Funny how that works, huh?

Read Full Post »

Between The Sick and The Birthday, things have been a little nutty around here. Yesterday Bill and I were able to go out on a real! live! date! to celebrate, which included a couple of juicy tenderloins, a never-ending dirty martini and some zombies. Ah, date night. You sure have changed over the years.

Earlier in the day when I explained to Rowan that Mama and Daddy were getting the heck out of dodge for the evening, she expressed concern that daddy wouldn’t be getting a birthday cake, or, more specifically, that she herself would not be getting any of his birthday cake. I had just been planning to get dessert at the restaurant but to appease the little mite I let her pick out some cupcakes so that we could sing Happy Birthday to the old man. So OF COURSE she picked out Halloween cupcakes that had the world’s brightest florescent orange frosting . I’m gonna go ahead and assume that the more neon the frosting, the healthier the cupcake (or “pupcake!” if you’re Keaton).

Forgive me, Internet. You must be really quite sick of pictures of my family with their faces covered in various foodstuffs but I’m a wee bit hungover today, so, SUCK IT*, this is all I have in me…10.27.110.27.210.27.310.27.410.27.610.27.5

*Please know that I mean that in the nicest possible way. I love you, Internet.

Read Full Post »

Thirty-One

On this very monumentous and glorious day in the long, LONG ago year of Nineteen Hundred and Seventy-Eight a little baby boy was born. A little boy made of snips and snails and never-ending patience, which, as it turns out, is the exact combination of ingredients one needs to be married to ME. Last year, in the time before The Blog, Bill celebrated the beginning of his 30th year amid much pomp and circumstance and lots and lots of booze. Let’s take a look at how he spent the rest of Thirty…

It started out innocently enough, with a night out with good friends, family and domesticated beer.

The year started out innocently enough, celebrating with good friends and family.

And if any of you were wondering what Bill looks like when he's really hammered, look no further.

And if any of you were wondering what Bill looks like when he's really hammered, look no further.

So much of this year was spent doing what he does best: being the world's Most Awesomest dad.

So much of this year was spent doing what he does best: being the world's Most Awesomest dad evah.

And yelling a lot.

And also yelling a lot while being totally oblivious to what's going on around him.

This is the year The Rixter made his appearance and while I am really hoping The Rixter was a one year only engagement I have a feeling he may make a few appearances in year 31.

This is the year The Rixter made his appearance and while I was really hoping The Rixter was a one year only engagement I have a feeling he may make a few appearances in year 31.

So many mornings look like this. It's not glamorous but this man is up every weekend morning with his kids, making breakfast and then trying ot sleep on the couch while the kids use him as a trampoline.

So many mornings look like this. It's not glamorous but this year this man was up every weekend morning with his kids, making breakfast and then trying to sleep on the couch while they used him as a trampoline...

He always looks way cooler than me which, just, whatever.

and even still, he always looks way cooler than me which, just, whatever.

This was also the year of The Hair.

This was also the year of The Hair. So magnificent.

31.11

Much of this past year was spent following this little guy around and when he fell on his face or got stuck on his back like a chubby turtle...

31.12

picking him up. Way, way up.

here he is at the rose garden he proposed to me in (and always the gentlemen, denied he was busy looking for some mythical gap in the space/time continuum to try and take it all back).

Here he is at the rose garden where he proposed to me. (I asked if he was busy looking for the mythical gap in the space/time continuum so he could go back and UNDO! but ever the gentleman, he stated he was simply trying to find the breed of rose he put my ring into.)

31.14

This year he kept us smiling even when we didn't much feel like it.

31.16

Listen, I have no idea what he's doing here but I thought I better include this one for um, posterity or something.

31.17

Though few and far between, Thirty also had a few relaxing moments that took on the form of a dinner out...

31.18

relaxing in our "yard" by our "pool"...

31.19

going on vacation with my family (Ok maybe this one wasn't so relaxing)...

31.20

and getting all of us out of the house and into the great wide open.

31.21

Billy, I can't even begin

31.22

to describe how much you mean to me

31.23

and to this little family you've created.

31.24

Happy Birthday, we heart you.

Read Full Post »

sick

This morning Rowan woke up with a high fever, congestion and a body-racking cough. This little lady, who is normally just this little ball of furious excitement and zipping energy split her day between the couch and the bed, splayed out like a little rag doll someone carelessly left behind.

Most food was refused but we were able to push a good amount of water and juice and she was, of course, powerless to resist the Princess fruit snacks we baited her with. Rowan has never been knocked down this hard by the flu so we’re thinking this must be that lovely Swine variety that seems to be all the rage amongst the ill set these days. She’s normally the kid who might spike a fever for a few hours but already by the end of the day is unable to be contained by the confines of a couch or bed and is bopping around, not well exactly, but certainly not sick sick. Not the case this time, her first temp reading taken by her father The Old Fashioned Way put her in the 102 range and due to the unpleasant nature of The Old Fashioned Way, put her father in the car to get a thermometer that takes an accurate temp from the UPPER part of the body. And for the rest of the day she fluctuated between 101 and 104.

By noon, even the allure of picking out and watching various movies wore thin so I took the first shift cuddling in bed and reading to her between whatever short naps and rests her cough would allow. It’s so frustrating not being able to just Make Her Better. Aren’t I supposed to know some magic mothering formula to cure her? When she refused most things I tried to offer in the way of comfort, telling me she just wanted to lay there with me, I swear I would’ve chopped off one of my arms and given it to her in brightly colored wrapping if it would have helped.

Bill laid with Rowan this evening, reading her Little House on the Prairie so I could attend to Mister Yes I Have A Fever Too, But I Shall Not Let A Measley Fever Stop Me In My Plans To Dominate And Then Destroy The World HAHAHAHAHA, who was busy taking advantage of our accommodating nature by making doe eyes by the treat jar and making the most of our preoccupation with his sister, by taste testing as many markers from the super pack of 50 that he could. Judging from his hands and mouth green is his favorite by far.

While Bill was sitting with her he asked her if there was anything he could do for her and she said, “Well, can you use magic to make me feel better?” Always wanting to please the women in his life, Bill presented her with a cup of water and told her he had tried to put some magic in it. She gulped it down and after a pause, said plainly “It didn’t work, Daddy”. Magic fail.

In the end, it turns out Rowan did want that arm of mine, only still attached to my body and wrapped snugly around her. And I suppose that is the magical mom cure, just being there. Knowing that mama has an arsenal of comforts at her grasp, and more importantly, in her grasp.

Read Full Post »

I asked the very talented abstract artist, Rowan J Gunterpants if she would be so kind as to immortalize me in crayon form and after some minor disputes and haggling on price (I said I’d give her a bear hug but she held out for 2 cookies) she went to work and came up with this, her latest masterpiece:

Rowan's artistic depiction of me. I asked her if I peed my pants after taking too much B6 but she assured me that "No, Mom. That is just a teeny patch pf grass you are standing on."

Rowan's artistic depiction of me. I asked her if I peed my pants after taking too much B6 but she assured me that "No, Mom. That is just a teeny patch pf grass you are standing on."

Her self portrait. Open to interpretation of arms growing out of her head or, Armless, with really long ears. Either way, she has already surpassed her mother in artistic ability and that's just sad.

Her self portrait. Open to interpretation of arms growing out of her head or, Armless, with really long ears. Either way, she has already surpassed her mother in artistic ability and that's just sad.

Read Full Post »

I really don’t know what I was thinking on Sunday night but instead of curling up on the couch with a book I scrubbed nearly every floor in my house. And not with a long-handled mop thingy-OH NO. THAT would be cheating. Down on my knees as my mother intended for such chores to be done. You know! So you can torture yourself by noticing every ding and grimy stain on the linoleum. Seriously if you haven’t done this in a while I would prepare yourself by drinking heavily beforehand. I was so sore afterward and also probably a little high from all that floor cleanser. Mmm, lemon scented tracers.

Luckily the beginning of Sunday didn’t suck nearly so much as the end and I have the photographic evidence to prove it. We heathened out of church on account of MEA break, which gave us a chance to beat out all the God-fearing folks on the best pumpkins and caramel apples. SUCKAHS! (Just kidding Jebus! See you next week!)

pp.1pp.2pp.3pp.4pp.5pp.6pp.7pp.8pp.9pp.10pp.11

You may have noticed a lack of my usual long-winded captions in which I make fun of my children, use swear words and/or make my children use swear words. I’m sorry to report that this outing was so spectacularly unremarkable that I have nothing for you. We had a genuinely fabulous time just being together and soaking in the Fall Experience. No one ran in front of a tractor or took a nose dive off a hay ride. No one knocked a precariously stacked pyramid of pumpkins over or ran screaming, scared to death of the petting zoo animals. Quite the contrary actually as Keaton seemed to establish some sort of bond with a goat, so much that we had to make three separate visits to the pen so they could stare blankly at one another.

I’m not used to peaceful, tranquil family time so even though this was most likely a highly uninteresting entry, it deserves its place in this blog as I’m sure the next time we decide to schedule a family outing someone will accidentally fall off an ostrich or light a bean bag emporium on fire, because that is normally how this family rolls. Then, amid the screaming, we will get that wistful look in our eyes, as feathers fly and our nose hair gets singed and say “Remember that ONE time when everything went smoothly? That was nice, huh?”

Read Full Post »

You know what makes me really happy?

These shoes.

These shoes.

We’ve had a couple of set backs the last few weeks. Set backs that aren’t so life-threateningly terrible but they have been throwing a wrench into the short and long term goals we really wanted to achieve for our family. You know the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”? While I see the merit in that lovely quip, I like my approach better, which is, “When life gives you lemons, put your kid in the cutest shoes you can find, stomp the shit out of those lemons and then drink some wine.”

***

We are watching Dexter and for those of you not yet watching this charming show about an All-American serial killer dad, you should know that it is worth tuning in to, if only for the awe-inspiring swear words that come out of Mrs. Michael C. Hall’s mouth. Seriously. I get this far away look in my eyes whenever Deb opens her mouth. Like, WOW. I have so much to learn from her.

Also, while we were at the library today Keaton put on the headphones at the listening station and who was playing? Good ol’ John Lithgow, who *spoiler alert!* shows his white, old man ass a little bit too much for anyones liking in season 4 of Dexter. Keaton was a little confused when mama told him to quit listening to the scary naked man.

***

I’ve noted other places on this blog about how movies/TV/books can have a profound effect on me. I just can’t shake them. Well, we recently finished watching the series Battlestar Galactica and now that it’s over I feel so….empty. It took us months to get through it and so many times Bill and I said to each other, I just want to KNOW, I just want it to be OVER. Now that it is, I’m sad. I also know that this sting will PALE in comparison to how I’ll feel after Lost is over. I’m a little worried I’ll need therapy to work through a letting go process and MY GOD that is just about the saddest sentence I’ve ever written.

Speaking of Lost, I have wickedly and successfully hooked all my sisters and their respective counterparts to it which is AWESOME. The phone rang on Tuesday and without even looking at the caller ID I says to Bill, I says “I bet that is Snoreface. I bet she’s after season three.” Lo and behold, she promised me her first born if she could pick it up right that very second. (OK, maybe not her firstborn, but possibly one of her Boston terriers. The one with ADHD and skin disease. I said thanks, but no thanks.) Anywho, we plan on having a Season 5 marathon party when it comes out (WHICH BETTER BE SOON, GUY WHO’S IN CHARGE OF DVD RELEASE. WE ARE READY. GIVE IT TO US.)

***

Remember when I said way back here, that Keaton did really awesome at his 18-24 month old class?

Yeah.

Well.

The second week (which Bill took him to) the parents separated from the kids for the second half of class and it turned into a crying free for all. Bill reported that Keaton actually did fine, but it seemed to freak him out when nearly all the other kiddos had a hard time separating from their parent. When they returned home, Keaton kept on saying “Baby cryin’!” over and over, so we could tell that he was trying to process it.

Fast forward to church the following Sunday when it was time to drop him of at the nursery. Neither of my kids have EVER suffered from separation anxiety. If they see an even moderately shiny object, they’re all “Mom who?”, but the nursery looks very similar to the classroom set up he has and the second I said “Love you! Bye-bye!” his lips stuck out in the most pathetic pout ever imaginable, gave a handful of quivers and then he broke out in a painful yowl of “No go, Mama!”

Now what the hell am I supposed to do with that? I am so weak in the face of Baby Pouty Lip. It tugs at my heart and makes me feel guilty as shit for even thinking of leaving him for a second in that room. That TORTUROUS room full of toys and trucks and no sisters and respectable teenager girls who are there for cuddling and reassurance. How dare I?

Then the next class he screamed and clung to my leg for dear fucking life when I told him I had to go. Needless to say while the majority of the moms stuck to their guns and went off to discuss Very Important toddler issues and enjoy warm coffee and zucchini bread, I sat on the floor with a 30 pound leach stuck to me, trying to convince him that I was not trying to abandon him. (I was TOTALLY trying to abandon him. I really wanted some of that zucchini bread.)

***

I’ve given up on waiting for the weather to improve, which means I’ve bundled the kids and myself up and gotten out for walks and jogs three times this week in the lovely 30 degree weather, which in December will be considered downright balmy but it is NOT DECEMBER and my blood is still all thin and summery, so 30 degrees= Arctic Tundra-like conditions. Anyway, tune in next week when we’re all dying of upper respiratory infections because of this! So exciting!

***

I think I have an ingrown toenail, stemming from the ripped off toenail debacle of Aught Nine. Did you want to know this? Probably not, but it really fricken’ hurts.

***

My mom is trying to teach me to knit, which is something I really wanted to do until one of my sisters died of shock when she found out because she didn’t think I was capable of something so, I don’t know, crafty? matronly? and the other died of laughter because “Oh my God, Christy and her long hair and cloth diapers and organic Cheetos and now THIS. That’s it. You are a hippie. NOW GO KNIT ME A SWEATER, HIPPIE.”

And I just had to sit there and take it because, A) It’s true and 2) I totally deserved it. And I’m not even a good hippie. On a tiny scarf for Rowan’s Bitty Baby, with only 15 or so rows completed, my mom had to fix two slipped stitches and some other mistake she (with 50 years experience) couldn’t figure out how I’d managed to accomplish. WIN!

***

I don’t really know how to end his train wreck of a post so I will just say that my day was most certainly better than the woman in the stall next to mine in the bathrooms at the library, whose privacy was very rudely breached by a one year old sticking his head under the stall door. Way to go, son.

Read Full Post »

Wednesdays are me and Keaton’s day to hang out mother/son style. Rowan has extended day preschool so instead of the normal 3 hour day she is gone for 5 whole hours. Five hours where this little man gets to pick up ANY Hello Kitty figurine, EVERY My Little Pony, and ALL the Princess dolls his little heart desires without hearing the piercing death screams Rowan emits that would make one think Keaton had tried to remove the fingers from her hand rather than a plastic horse she wasn’t even playing with. (Here is where she would tell you it’s the principle of the matter and that by Keaton touching these precious toys he is forever ruining them in some irreversible, unknowable way. I really couldn’t tell you where she gets her dramatic streak from. Let’s blame Bill.)

I try to make the most of this time with him. We dance, listen to music, giggle over that one stupid ass thing Grover did on Sesame Street, go for long walks, read the same 3 books over and over and play play play. He is at the most hilarious age where his sole purpose in life seems to be that he must be laughing or making someone laugh most of the time. In short, we are just eating each other up right now and loving the extra one-on-one time.

By the time lunch rolled around, we had had a full morning. I heated up one of his favorite lunches, Clam Chowder, which we call Tato Soup, mostly because when Rowan was younger we came up with a lot of bland names for many foods, thinking it more likely that she would eat the familiar sounding “Tato Soup” as opposed to “Clam Chowder”. Most of the time it backfired, and she soon became too suspicious to be outsmarted but this one stuck.

Right after I set him up with his bowl, Bill called to check in on our day. (Aww, aren’t we cute? PUKE.) I sat with Keaton while we chatted but got distracted by some toys left on the floor in my bedroom. I ducked into the room for no more than 1 minute and when I came out I was greeted with this horrifying scene:

So. Gross.

So. Gross.

maybe it's somebody elses baby hiding behind that bowl... that sticky, gooey, chowdery bowl.

Maybe it's somebody elses baby hiding behind that bowl... that sticky...gooey...chowdery bowl.

Crap. Nope. He's mine- I'd know that shifty eye anywhere.

Crap. He's mine- I'd know that shifty eye anywhere.

Oh God. Look at his hair. He kept saying "Bowl head! Bowl head!" and then doing this...

Oh God. Look at his hair. He kept saying "Bowl head! Bowl head!" and then...

laughing. Like- do you get it? A bowl is on my head so I am a bowl head- why aren't you laughing? This is my A material.

Laughing manically. Like- "Do you get it? A bowl is on my head so I am a bowl head- why aren't you laughing? This is my A material. Dad always said you had a rotten sense of humor."

Incidentally he didn't think it was so funny when it was time to deconclaminate (get it! Am so very clever) him and it took me 15 minutes to get the clam out of his hair, and he didn't laugh at ONE of my "Chowdeh" jokes, so who has the crappy sense of humor now, kid.

Incidentally he didn't think it was so funny when it was time to deconclaminate* him and it took 15 minutes to get the clam chunks out of his hair, AND he didn't laugh at ONE of my "Chowdeh" jokes, so who has the crappy sense of humor now, Bowl Head.

*Get it?! I’m so clever. And also possibly might have a little too much time on my hands.

P.S. Are any of you thinking that the reason he made such a gigantic mess is because he was trying to get back at me for putting a hot pink bib on him, embroidered with the words “Beauty Queen”?

Totally possible.

Read Full Post »

Okay, so remember last week when I was so happy we finally got that ONE nice fall evening? With the leaves and the colors and the crisp air and the warm sun? That ONE time? ONCE? THIS ENTIRE SEASON! Yeah, well, the next day the temps dropped back down into the low 50’s and then the mid 40’s and then the high 30’s and then:

What The Fuck. That's WTF to you texters out there. To me, in this instance, iy must be spelled out in it's entirety so you get the full effect of the WHAT and the THE and especially the FUCK part.

What The Fuck. That's WTF to you internet savvies out there. To me, in this instance, it must be spelled out in its entirety so you get the full effect of the WHAT and the THE and especially the FUCK part.

Listen. I understand that I live in a state where this has been known to happen from time to time. A state where winter rules the land for six months out of the year. A state that I choose to live in because a really long time ago my German and Norwegian ancestors pointed to this place on a map and were like, “How can we really screw with the future generations? THEY won’t have to get on a damn ship and sleep with rats for warmth and get sea sickness for months. THEY won’t have to trek across the wilderness and rely on squirrels for a large portion of their diet. We must do SOMETHING in exchange for our suffering. How’s about this one here with the sort of pointy thing up top and all the puddles that we’ll call lakes? The one that gets insanely cold and snowy. Done and DONE.” Well, well played evil ancestors because here we are, freezing our asses off while cursing your names.

Bill and I actually got engaged so young because we wanted to move OUT OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN LAND and wanted to get the whole wedding bit out of the way so my parents wouldn’t get all “Thou art laying together whilst lacking sufficient legal documentation of thy love and committment! Treason! Harlot! Avast ye!” After I graduated we planned to get hitched and then pack up and try our luck out west. Like where there is only warm weather. All the time. Alas. Life didn’t end up working out that way and for that I am thankful. I don’t think I would have made it that far away from my wonderful, nutball of a family. I mean, who would watch my kids?

Kids, who happen to think the snow is a really awesome thing.

Kids, who happen to think the snow is a really awesome thing.

I tried to convince them that it would cause them to melt just like a certain witch we all know and love but the girl-child, having a sufficient memory of last year called my bluff and told me to "quit being so dramatic". Whatever.

I tried to convince them that if we went out it would cause them to melt just like a certain witch we all know and love but the girl-child, having a sufficient memory of last year, called my bluff and told me to "quit being so dramatic". Whatever.

Keaton seemed excited at first, but quickly realized that snow is cold, wet and hard to walk in when your not yet 3 feet high. Also? I'm pretty sure he came to the conclusion that mittens were invented by Satan himself.

Keaton seemed excited at first, but quickly realized that snow is cold, wet and hard to walk in when your not yet 3 feet high. Also? I'm pretty sure he came to the conclusion that mittens were invented by Satan himself.

The first snow means different things to different people.

The first snow to a four year old= All you can eat buffet.

The first snow to a four year old= All you can eat buffet.

To a one year old? DAMN YOU SATAN AND YOUR EVIL THUMB STEALING INVENTIONS. THEY ARE LIKE STRAIGHT JACKETS FOR YOUR HANDS!

To a one year old? DAMN YOU SATAN AND YOUR EVIL THUMB STEALING INVENTIONS. THEY ARE LIKE STRAIGHT JACKETS FOR YOUR HANDS!

To a dog? Fetch just turned into a very cold, wet game of hide and seek wherin they circle the same spot for 10 minutes looking for the ball and then finally when you give up and trek out into the cold wet sticky vastness only to have her turn around and pick the ball up, which she had been sitting on.

To Luna? Fetch just turned into a very cold, wet game of hide and seek wherin she circles the same spot for 10 minutes looking for the ball and then finally, you give up and trek out into the cold, wet, sticky vastness to assist her only to have her turn around and pick the ball up, which she has been sitting on.

Keaton says= Screw this. I'm outa here. I say= make room on that big wheel for mama, boy.

Keaton says: Screw this. I'm outa here. I say: make room on that big wheel for mama, boy.

He kept saying "Take it! Take it" which means, "Pick me up NOW, please." Him calling himself "it" is the best pronoun slip-up. I think it's because Bill and I would jokingly say to each other "Can you take this?" when we'd pass Keaton between us. Yeah. We're awesome parents.

He kept saying "Take it! Take it" which means, "Pick me up NOW, please." This pronoun slip-up is probably because Bill and I would jokingly say to each other "Can you take this?" when we'd pass Keaton between us. Now he refers to himself as "it". Yeah. We're awesome parents.

It's a snow cat! See the ears! No? Shut up. It's art and therefore interperative.

It's a snow cat! See the ears! No? Shut up. It's art and therefore interpretive. I interpret it as a cat.

Deformed snow cats and joking aside, the first snow is a pretty cool thing- especially when you get to witness it through the eyes of a four year old who thinks it is nothing less than a work of magic.

Deformed snow cats and joking aside, the first snow is a pretty cool thing- especially when you get to witness it through the eyes of a four year old who thinks it is nothing less than a work of magic.

Besides. Without it hot chocoalate wouldn't taste nearly as good. You win this round, Snow.

Besides. Without it hot chocolate wouldn't taste nearly as good. You win this round, Snow.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »