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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

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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...

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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.

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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"...

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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