Going postal at the post office

If you know me, then you know that generally I am in a pretty good mood, even when I should be in a bad one.

So today I go be bopping into the post office to mail some presents....

And walk into a possible situation . There was another customer there and she was really, really mad. I mean, she was pissed, at a man named Larry. She was in the front of the line and I was behind her. Apparently she did something wrong and had to go and fix it. Then she started to scream, like Bette Meddler mixed with a banshee, mixed with the mean mom from goonies and she looked like she could go bear wrestling with a switch....

" Larry! This is all your fault. We have to start all over again."

Larry was meek and ashamed and I am guessing more than a little mortified.

I was then told by the post man that I needed to pack up my packages myself, so I headed back to where she was, cheerful but hoping she was unarmed for Larry's sake.

Then I heard:
"I can't tape this Larry. No don't you dare help me!!!! I can't do it."

Now, my natural inclination was to go and help her and I was about to and then I took one look at her and she looked at me and I decided, better not.

She then huffed up to the counter and said to the mail lady "do you know who the meanest, most stubborn , most annoying people are?" The lady did not.

"Red headed people-- and the darker the red the more terrible they are."

I looked around. Just me. No back up carrots. And there is no way that lady knows me well enough to know that. Then she started in on how red heads are from England and you can tell where from in England by the shade of red.

I realized she was crazy, of course. I am not from England.

what do you get...

When you take a 3 year old little girl in a size 12-18 month Mexican dress, a some what carelessly left out stepladder, and a windchime?



joy and mischief...

Bless us, oh Lord...

Do not read this if you are averse to poop issues----

What happened after the gluttony, during the dishes, which took an hour to wash:

Audrey(drawing me into the bathroom and whispering) where's your Imodium?

Me: why? Do you have c-dif?

Audrey ( annoyed) I don't know, just where is it?

Mom: another pea? Oh my God- I am never going to finish picking up these peas!

Hyphen: why are there so many peas on the floor? thank god we didn't have fried rice

Lilly (from upstairs): all done mommy!

Tallulah (from upstairs) Lilly pooped upstairs

Me: did she poop upstairs? (Please note: I do not have a bathroom upstairs)

Audrey(coming downstairs with part of the potty training potty) hold on Lilly let me wipe your booty

Me: ugh I hate that word

Mom ( yelling at the dog who is on the couch). Look where she is! Perra disgraciada! Do you think you own this house?

Audrey: the toilet's clogged...

Dale: did you flush a Kirkland wipe down it?

Annabelle( calling) papaaaaa where is the plunger?

Hyphen: well your sister has such a restricted diet. It's no wonder she's sick--all of this food shocked her system....

Me: or she is contaminating our toilet with her stomach virus germs....

Audrey: there is a window open in your bathroom, FYI

Annabelle to dale: what happens if you flush it again?

Dale: the poop will come out on the floor.

Annabelle: I only saw water and paper.

Dale: trust me, there is poop there.

Audrey then started to sing the diarrhea song and I yelled at her for saying turd. Then I got points on the official tantrum tally/ hyphen neat feak fits that we were keeping track of on the chalkboard wall. This tally was for adult tantrums only, if we had been keeping track of kid ones, we would never have stopped writing....

Through Christ our Lord, amen...

Why my mother does not shop at target

Mom: well, I hope you don't get mad at me, but I want to buy a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and show it to the girls when we are at your house.

Me: that'll be fine.

Mom: but I don't know if I can find it, only if I can find it

Me: where did I see that?? Oh, yeah, I saw it at target.

Mom(disdainful): oh, well, I don't shop there, so only if the have it at HEB.

Me: you are such a snob, there was a study that people who shop at target have higher education levels....

Mom(interrupting): well good for them. Every time I go there I have a horrible experience. Like I see someone scratching their crotch.

Me(laughter): what?

Mom: yes they scratch their crotch or are fighting over something in the store.

Me: what target do you go to?

Mom: I don't even go to the one on the cruddy part of town. I go to the one on 1604.

Me(thinking let me put a quarter in an see where this goes) well, what are you supposed to do when you itch?

Mom: you rub you legs together or excuse your self to the bathroom, you don't scratch yourself, they probably have bugs or venerial disease . Well you probably do, you probably scratch yourself and your cola too, and probably have cola juice on your hands and then touch the stuff at target

Me: yeah, that is what I do and then I touch everything and get other people's vd.

Mom: see? . And that is why I don't go to target.

Me: I've got to go. I've got to go write something down.

Rosalinda cafe

Annabelle has been sick with fever, so she has been getting lots of love and attention, which is causing her sister to be whiny to compete for attention. And there have been a couple of sleepless nights, well, sleepless for me, because i am taking temperatures and getting cups of water and comforting the children who need me and who have had dreams that a "big alligator knocked you in the water with its tail.". There was a doctors visit today that involved multiple tests and tears and lollipops and a big 'ol dose of tylenol all to come to the conclusion-- we have no idea, we' ll just call it "flu-like".

So I was understandably beat when we came home. But then I was invited to this really cool tea house called Rosalinda cafe. You can get hot lemonade tea with honey and a mint cookie in it. You can also get a foot bath and a leg massage. The waitresses were really nice and one of them had a British accent. Their names were Kaitlin rose and Kaitlin Corduroy. They also provide a book reading service and a toy selection service where they would bring you toys you might want to play with.

It was actually quite relaxing and I felt restored.

Then we watched some football and then there was a screaming and kicking battle because she is touching me, no, she is touching me on the couch.

Now I am having a glass of wine.....

Bing bing

Tallulah is one of those kids who carries around a blanket. Her name is Bing Bing. My sister in law knitted her for T when she was born and truthfully, she was always partial to it, but bing bing really became a necessity when she had her pneumonia/collapsed lung last year that landed her in the hospital where she underwent multiple suction procedures that caused her to vomit and extrude massive amounts of phlegm. Bing Bing got us through that.

Bing bing, of course goes with us places. Like to fort davis and Florida and grandma's house and also to the grocery store and the gym, and while I usually discourage taking toys to those kinds of places, because they will be forgotten, I don't feel that way about Bing Bing. You see, she is part of our family, and you don't forget your family.

And since she is part of our family, she is quirky like everyone else in this non-traveling freak show.

Bing Bing is a girl.

Bing Bing does not like other blankets. She really, really, does not like them. "Bing Bing don't like dis one." So we fall asleep slightly cold and then I have to go in there later and cover Tallulah up. The only blanket she can tolerate is the comforter on our bed. So after waking up cold, she and Bing Bing come in our room and T says when I cover her "oh, dis one ok. Bing bing like dis one."

If Bing Bing is mad at you she will hit or attack you. Just ask hyphen.

If Bing bing loves you she will kiss you and cuddle you. Just ask me.

Bing Bing sometimes doubles as a long haired wig, a dress and a baby sling/ nursing cover. Tallulah strongly feels breast is best when it comes to her dolls.

Bing bing does not like the cover to Richard Scarry's Best Storybook Ever. She thinks the lion is too scary and doesn't want it anywhere near her.

Bing Bing has a nickname. It is "the bings the bongs."

Bing Bing is who T turns to when she is in trouble or scared or sad. "I need my Bing Bing, " through tears and a quivering lip. And she is so pathetically sad you give in to her and don't care about her being spoiled because kids who carry blankets around like they are a life line and just too damn cute.

Bing Bing will be three soon and I just want to say, "happy Birthday," Bing Bing, we love you.

boo

thoughts and happeniings

1. Annabelle had a book character parade at her school today, and lucky for us, her pippi longstocking costume from last year still kind of fits, so there you go.

2. It rained really hard yesterday and today and we were worried trick or treating would be rained out. There is a neighborhood nearby that has Halloween the night before to avoid truckloads of kids from other neighborhoods. Other less desirable neighborhoods. There is something about this, one of the isms or ists, that H and I, while not liberal people by any means, don't like and so even though we were invited to participate, we opted to take our chances with the weather and go today. It turned out great. Tallulah was Cinderella and corrected you if you called her Tallulah. "no, you mean Cinderella." Annabelle opted for Froehlin Maria from the Sound of Music. She was very specific, and wanted to be in the costume where Maria arrives at Captain Von Trapps home in the ugly dress carrying the guitar. Thanks to Ba Noi and Grandma for making the costume and H for his superior crafting skills--he made the guitar case out of foam. And thanks to the crazy mom who invited us to a safari birthday party a couple of years ago where the favors were straw hats.



3. I will not eat one piece of Halloween candy this year. So far there have been reeses peanut butter cups in my house for 11 hours and I have not eaten one--did I mention that when I was a junior in high school and sick for an entire year the only thing that I wanted to eat was reeses????? I totally love these things, so this is a Halloween miracle. Thank you O Great Pumpkin.

4. The problem with not being a liberal non-racist or non-elitist is that you must remain a beacon of calm, smiling and non-judgmental light, when a 10 year old child shows up at your door and tells you she is dressed up as a stripper.

5. H should have his PhD in pumpkin carving. This is freehand.



6. I taught Annabelle and her bff the 80s classic "trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat, if you don't I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear." That one is like a fine wine. Just gets better....

7. My mom called this afternoon and asked me if I remembered what we were doing this afternoon last year. She was here caring for me during my post acl repair time. I couldn't remember, but she did. We were at Target trying to find candy and I was in one of those motorized carts for the elderly, crippled, infirm and obese. And it went really slow and we had to get another one and there was almost no candy left because we waited for the last minute. She remembered how much fun we had passing out candy and how much fun we had dressing up the girls. I remembered how annoyed she was with me for using Tallulah's birthmarks for her puppy dog spot eye and then I found myself thinking for the first time "thank you God, for my acl tear, because it meant my mom got to come over here and do so many fun things with the girls for almost a month, although she almost never bathed me during that time, and that would never have happened without that tear, so thanks. But, please, don't tear my other one."

The Lord works in mysterious ways, especially on Halloween.

Help me I'm on a bad date

Help. This is real time, people. My date is watching the baseball fame rather than paying attention to me. Baseball. He just asked me who I am texting. I am ignoring. We are at shepherd park because he is too lazy to take me somewhere good. Pizza crust is not pretzels and our fried ravioli look like hot pockets and smell like fancy feast. I look like ass because I don't care about my appearance any more. My attempt to engage him on conversation, by asking him where the worst place we've ever eaten has failed. I say Pho tau by. The little roaches. Little roaches. Of course he won't agree, because of some kind of nationalistic pride. Thomas BBQ. Squirrel gristle sausage. Yeah that was bad.

We can't go home. They are showing Mary poppins and we want no part of that.

And to add insult to injury, my buzz is wearing off.

Shut. I might proofread this. Might.

Hotel California is playing. Ok. That's ok.

Complaining about children's birthday party that he had to go to this morning. Don't care.

There are some really ugly guys here. No one with a bald spot should ever wear shorts after 6 pm

My date wants to see nary poppins. Shit. I mean, no thank you.

I just ordered another glass.

Everyone here is ugly. I should go. Despite my mom jeans, I don't fit in.

We agree that this place sucks. We agree on everything, that's why we are so boring.

My date is the best looking man in this bar and he is wearing an orange swatch so you know he is cool.

There is someone really short behind the bar. Really really short. Damn.

My date is making a grocery list with his new app while I blog. Agh. We are those people.

I have a scab on my hairline.

We are full on tattoo nation. Dreadful. Maybe I should just get a tattoo like every other person.

A man with a willie nelson pony tail and cut off shirt just sat down at the bar. He had long earrings, tats and a potted face. Where the f does he think we are? The montrose? Who the f does he think he is? Tiffin?? We don't like people with personality here in GO. Where is my ugly bald friend????

My date just nudged my foot to show me this man. See? Perfectly in sync. Boring.

I am ready to kick my knees up and step in time.

Tommy and Tallulah

Last year, during her dog obsession, which continues through this year, Tallulah received a few stuffed animal dogs for her birthday and Christmas. Most of them had a spot on one of their eyes. She named her favorites, Tommy, Snoopy, and Strawberry. She played with them off and on and when it was time to combine the girls' room, she, of course, needed them, along with about 10 other stuffed animals on her bed.

Shortly thereafter, she noticed that tommy had a small-ish, brown-ish stain on his underside. This presenteda problem because this is a child who won't use a napkin with a stain, who tells on her sister when she is looking for socks and dumps the sock bin on the floor "and now my room all messy." This is a child who is somewhat anal retentive. You can decide if that needs a hyphen or not.

She announced that tommy had poop on him and she didn't want him on her bed. Actually, she didn't want him in her room. But, I made her feel bad about it and told her it was not poop, it was probably chocolate. "Okay mama, it not poop, it just chocolate, but he sleep on de flu-owa now." This has continued and almost become a game for me --when I make her bed, I put tommy on it, and always hear this indignant bellow later in the day, "who put tommy on my bed???"

She is unhappy with Miss C_____ who has come every other week to help us clean our house since my acl tear, and of course, now hyphen is in love with her and we can't let her go. Grrr. She tries to tell her not to put tommy on her bed, thankfully, miss C______ doesn't understand this impudence, and I don't translate.

But she couldn't quite get rid of him altogether. Annabelle told her, "you are mean to tommy, if you won't love him, he can be mine, I will take care of him." No, she decided to be abusive rather loving and letting go. So we were back to our old game, her trying every which way to not have him anywhere near her stuff. Did I mention that this is my child that actually throws away her starburst wrappers, rather than keeping them for "my candy wrapper collection."

Today, however, we had a breakthrough. "If tommy mine, then I can do whatever I want with him, and I want to give him to Annabelle." She said it defiantly, like I was trying to force their relationship, which in a way I was. Now he lives on Annabelle's nightstand, next to her bucket of rocks.

Cue odd couple music now.

Bereft

It's that time of year when the days are shorter and the leaves change and when Annabelle coughs until she vomits. And tonight, after a rousing game of hot potato, where everyone's antics had us all screaming with laughter, she started coughing. And then her face got all red and her stomach puffed out like it does when this happens and then we were in the bathroom, with me holding her hair back while she threw up. We are pros at this. The other night, we were able to get just a small amount on our bed before she made it to the bathroom. There were a couple of years where we weren't so lucky.

It's asthma, it's allergies. It's whatever. It doesn't mater really. It will go away by April and she will run around and ride her bike and perfect her boogie boating skills over the summer before it come back again in September.

It's still no fun to watch and so, in the way of vain people everywhere, I turned my attention to studying myself in the mirror, at my elbows specifically and how terribly wrinkly they are. My face may seem youthful to some, but my elbows? Pushing 50, not 40 . I started to draw the bath water, and stared at my daughters' perfect skin, smooth, peaches and cream. Milky. milky is the word my friend, a woman from my church, used to describe her baby's skin. My mind has been drifting toward her for the past week or two, ever since her baby was rushed to the hospital after he almost aspirated at home. What was wrong with him is too complicated for me to explain, but it involves early infantile seizures, an underdeveloped trachea and jaw, and an inability of his brain to tell his lungs to breathe.

Was wrong. He is gone now.

She was generous enough to post his journey home on caringbridge. You can see it here http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/ourtinymystery. The part that got me the most was when a minister from Dallas, who had been following her trauma, drove down to comfort her and told her to imagine placing Andrew into Jesus's arms.

I am sad, I am angry, I am grateful, I am being a better mother. It has united us in prayer. That's what we are all saying and it is true, people from all over the world were praying for this child and my neighborhood, my parish, my community, we are all bereft. It is all that anyone is talking about.

But to be honest with you, I wish we weren't united. I wish we were all as self centered as we always are and she were at home with him, swaddling him, changing his diaper and wishing she could get some more sleep, the way mothers of two month old babies are supposed to be doing. I would trade that for united in prayer. I don't feel united. I feel untied.

The way I like Cheetos vs the way Tallulah likes Cheetos

The way I like Cheetos:
If I am driving in SA TX with my mom and we are on mulberry and she says "pull over at the diamond shamrock so we can get a snack and gas the car,"  I do.  And I know snack means a dr. Pepper and Cheetos.   And I get her some Cheetos and we continue on down to river road to look at that one little area of houses that look like they are from various fairy tales while she back seat drives me and we munch on Cheetos.  That is when I like Cheetos.

The way Tallulah likes Cheetos
Tallulah likes Cheetos all the time.  I recently discovered  this while the three of us were at the zoo for Annabelle's five and a half birthday celebration.  She asked for Cheetos.  Since I had not been on river road lately, I assumed she meant Doritos, since that is my fake cheese product chip of choice, and since we had just had some coming back from fort davis.  No.  The child meant Cheetos, and let me know that in no uncertain terms.  "When have you had Cheetos?" I asked.  In true birth order style, Annabelle answered, " she had them when we were at the beach.  Uncle g--- had a huge bag Of them and they ate them all."

Fast forward to the grocery store this week, when she was having a melt down because she was hungry, we were almost in line and she saw the small bags at the deli counter and asked if she could have one.  At this point I was so sick of her tantrums I probably would have given her a scotch on the rocks if she had asked for one, so I bought it for her.

Today, we had baptist music class. As we were leaving for Second, she said "mommy after music class can we go to the  grocery store?"  I thought it was a weird thing to ask, and I said " no sweetie, we don't need anything from the store."  We exit the freeway  and she says" mommy I want to go to the zoo."  I explain we are going to music class, and in the way of the problem solving second child she says, " mommy, I know, we can go after music."  I tell her it will be hot, but, I will think about it.

After music, I have thought about it and realize-- no, I am in jeans and it is hot as balls and there is no way in hell we are going to the zoo.  So I explain how hot it will be and how much she hates being hot.  And then she is is quiet for a minute.  "Mommy, can we get some Cheetos?  Can we go to the beach with Aunt T?  She has a big bag of Cheetos."

Ok.  I get it now.  She really likes Cheetos.  Which is good to know, because she is the most finicky child I have ever known, and this is coming from someone who survived her first 20 years on peanut butter alone.

At the zoo

Getting to know all about you....

If mom and dad are the sun and Annabelle is the earth, then annabelle has her own little satellite. And her name is Tallulah. You, know tallulah, right? She is the other child that lives in my house. She does everything big sister tells her to, and repeats everything she says. She likes pippy longstocking, she likes fräulein Maria, she only wants to wear dresses, and she is 5 and is in kinder, or at least she wishes she was....

But she also likes elephants. And wants an elephant sprinkle birthday party. And she likes to have a clean room and will tell on a certain older sibling who "twowed hewr socks all over my flo-ah and now my room all messy."

And now her planet earth is gone for 5 days a week and we both need to figure out what to do with each other.

The first couple of weeks we were running errands and doing beginning of the school year stuff. But now that everything has settled down, we have enrolled in a mommy and me music class at second baptist (still second to none). It is the first such class we have done together and the poor forgotten child is almost three.

And we had a blast together. I did this same class with planet earth, when she was about 18 months old, and it was fun. Planet earth was always the first in line, always stood near the teacher, always running around the room when we marched for Jesus.

My moon is more cautious. More in my lap. More on my hip when I march for Jesus. Then the clouds clear and she really shines. She raises her hand to answer a question and she sings and shakes her shaky egg. In the end of the class, she loves the bubble time, but she doesn't stomp on them, like planet earth did. She tries to catch the small ones on her fingers and squeals with delight when she is successful.

Then we go to the Galleria to try and find a shirt for H, being unsuccessful, we eat lunch . I have a sandwich and she has a pink sprinkle cookie, teddy grahams and chips, because why do grandmas get to have all the junk food fun?

The Christian that lives in my house

Tonight, after a long first week of kindergarten, the girls decided to have a slumber party, which is to say, they decided to sleep on their floor, everything else was still the same.  And since Annabelle has already brought home three worksheets from her school that is supposed to be for gifted and talented kids, I decided that I will have to supplement the things that are gifted about Annabelle at home.  Since Annabelle was really into the Romans and Egyptians earlier this summer, I decided to read this history book to her that was mentioned in the Well Trained Mind and also recommended by my sister in law.  In it is a story about two Egyptian gods, brothers, where one killed the other.  We read it along with some Berenstein Bears and a Dora book before bed. The slumber party ended with Tallulah's customary wiggling until she abruptly stops and is asleep. But Annabelle's little well trained mind couldn't let the myth go, and was scared and she is now in our bed, fast asleep.

Before she went to sleep, she was telling me that the story scared her.  And it prompted this discussion:

Me:  "well, Annabelle, you know that is not true."

A:  "Why?"

Me:  "well, you heard them talk about gods, and you know there is only one God and that is our God.  You see, he came down, from heaven and made himself known to Abraham, and because Abraham was a good man, he promised him that his people, his descendants, would be as numerous as the stars.  And do you know who some of those people are?

A:  "no"

Me:  "you and me, we are.  And then some of his people, called the Jews, ended up in Egypt, and the Pharaoh was mean to them and made the Jews slaves, and that made God angry, so punished the Egyptians, and gave the Jews, Moses, who led them out of Egypt, to Israel."

A:  "wait, I thought he took them to the promised land."

Me:  "He did, and that was Israel, that is where the Jews lived, where Jesus, who was from the house of David, who was a Jew himself, was born.  And Moses gave them the laws, rules to live by.  And eventually there were a lot of laws--tons and tons--like one law is that you can't eat meat with diary.  So no steaks with a glass of milk.  And the dishes you eat milk and cheese on have to be totally different from the dishes you eat meat on.  Can you believe that?  Anyway, there were so many laws, that God noticed that the people were too preoccupied by all these rules and weren't doing the important things, like being nice to each other.  So God sent them Jesus, and he told them that the only things that mattered, the only things that were important, was to love God with your whole heart, and your whole soul and your whole mind and to love your neighbor...

A:  "as yourself.  So he took all their laws and smushed them into two."

Me:  "yes."

A:  "just like a hamburger."

Me:  "yes, exactly like a hamburger."

During this discussion, H was watching a Kung fu movie on the ipad.  That's what he was doing while I was first putting the girls to bed, but was interrupted when some strangers knocked on our door.  Two kids in their 20s, see how I can say kids?  That's what you do when you are pushing 40, you call people in their early 20s kids.  They were on a pub crawl/bike ride when they got a flat tire.  He invited them into the garage and tried to air it up, but when that didn't work, he loaded up their bikes in our van and drove them home.  Home was an rv park off of shepherd and tidwell, which is not a nice part of town.  It was dark and he didn't want them to walk all that way, through that part of town.

What 16 years with the company will get you.....

A trip with the family to Fort Davis, where we tent camped in the State Park, went to the Fort and the McDonald observatory. Now, we were tempted, or at least I was, to leave the kids with my parents and go by ourselves, since it was us who started the company, but since we are responsible corporate officers, we answer to our shareholders, and also, because they are fun and make life awesome.

Some thoughts on our trip:

1. Screw you Nikon, for telling me my memory card was not formatted, when it totally was, and then refusing to format it, whereby making me take iPhone pictures which cannot possibly capture the beauty of the davis mountains.

2. Grandma, seriously? The road trip present was nice, but.....The gum? The tic tacs? It makes for an interesting drive when the 2 year old eats all the tic tacs before you get to Junction and then starts in on the gum, which she is not supposed to have until she is 5. You would think that Annabelle would back us on this, since she didn't get gum until 30 seconds after she woke up on her 5th birthday, but she has found this rule to be completely arbitrary saying "why? She knows not to swallow it. Let her have it." And we did, and they formed the gum into mini play dough-like animals that played with each other and when they got tired of that and put it on their noses and then eventually it made its way to the floor of the van and Tallulah's puppy purse, and since she is anal, like her dad, she was not happy about this.

4. My kids can rock a 9 hour car trip with no devices and no dvds, and if it sounds like I am bragging, it's because I am.

5. Annabelle is a born naturalist and wanted to go to every talk the rangers were offering at the state park, and was thrilled to death when 5 javelina walked through our campsite. Our neighbor campers were thrilled that she was thrilled, but were thrilled standing on top of their picnic tables. She also delighted in the barrel cactus and yucca, which she thought sounded like caca, And the skunks, and was disappointed that we didn't see the montezuma quail. So was I.

4. Annabelle is now an official junior ranger with the national park system, because she and H got so into the Fort.

5. For as sweet as Tallulah is, as kind as she is, as caring as she is, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, take that child on a nature hike. I cannot stress this enough. If you ever though you saw a child throw a wall eyed fit, you were wrong. If you ever thought, wow that kid at the mall, or park or where ever, is being bratty, spoiled, whatever.... they weren't. Or perhaps you have seen somone else's child and thought, "what crappy parents , they need to give that child a beating." They really didn't. They needed to give Tallulah one instead. I am pretty sure the echoes of her screaming I DON'T WANT TO GO ON A NATURE WALK I WANT TO GO HOME AND NOT TENT HOME I WANT MY GRANDMA are still reverberating throughout the Davis mountains and possibly into Marfa and the surrounding area. The only thing that kept me from having a CPS family plan put in place was her ever patient and somewhat smug and sometimes asshole-ish father, who kept saying " she's two, what did you expect?"

6. See number 5 and apply it to our trip to the fort, where I carried her throughout the entire tour and add in the phrases " I SO HHHHOOOOOTTTTT!!!!!!!! I WANT MY MIIIILLLLKKKK. I WANT MY BING BING. NOOOOWWWW!" (bing bing is her special blanket, who stayed in the car. She is a girl and goes everywhere with us. She does not like other blankets. And if you are nice, she kisses you. She doesn't like being dirty. If Annabelle is sad, she gets to hold bing bing. Cute, right? Doesn't really make up for the tantrums, though).

7. Fort Davis, is like a paradise. It is so remote, that I felt free. It is a green desert, with cotton wood and oaks trees on top of volcanic rocks with an underground river. And there are mountain lions. It was 60 degrees at night and 88 in the day with no humidity. I could live there, but I would need an amazon prime account and a garden, because the grocery store (called thrift away)is limited--bacon was 7 dollars and chips were two for 7. Thrift away. I get it. Like throw your thrift away. But they did have mrs. Meyers clean day products there, go figure. There is also so much to do there, it is amazing. You could easily stay in the area for a week.

8. As a Texan, if you are one, or a non Texan living in our great state, or just the random person from sri lanka who reads my blog, you should make it your duty to go to the McDonald observatory. I saw Saturn. I saw its rings. We saw a red giant, we saw parts of galaxies far, far away. I learned about the earth's wobble and how there used to be a different North Star. And we saw 2 shooting stars, which our instructor insisted we call meteors because we were at the observatory. The company decided that we would not do that. That they were shooting stars, because it sounded better.

We were unanimous on that, at least the 3/4's of us that were still awake. One of us being a little worn out, was asleep in her father's loving arms.

The light from those stars that we were seeing was in some cases millions of years old, they told us how many light years, but I am an English major and do not compute astrophysics, especially when I feel their explanation is incorrect, based on my rudimentary understanding of such things that I gleaned from Stan the Man hutto in high school--but I know that my small company's 16 years is an insignificant grain of sand in comparison.

But it is our grain of sand, and i can hold onto it, with my small hand and see the world inside. And it is a glorious green desert on top of a mountain, with children standing arms outstretched, spinning like they are in the sound of music, and us, the CEO and chairman of the board, smiling, laughing and joining in.

Something I feel slightly bad about

Tallulah to dog:  come on, ring around the Rosie, pocket full of... Oh, you not play?  Okay, we play what you want... What you want to play?

What the dog wants to play these days is lie down on my white slip-covered sofa.  But since I put the-thing-she-fears-most on it--the broom-- to keep it from being my brown and hairy slip-covered sofa, she goes to H's leather chair and slowly hops up, or to the rug by the coffee table where she slowly plops down.

The dog is no spring chicken.  And I feel bad for hating so much.  Hating her for reasons outlined in any number of the posts on this blog, and because she killed 4 of my spring chickens.  (Children do not know about this thanks to a hasty trip to an actual chicken ranch in San Leon for replacements by their loving father)

She is snoring softly now, and as is her habit, will get up later for her late night treat of a found sippy cup, which she will enjoy, cup lid and all.

I leave the kids with my mom for a couple of hours...

And I come home to Tallulah's version of a sandwich. Please note: the sprinkles were compliments of their mid morning trip to Baskin Robbins.

First, sprinkles...

Second, add the mayo...

Third, a little turkey...

Enjoy!

Holiday road

Using the technology of our smart phones, the Internet, arial GPS photos and good ol' deductive reasoning, we were able to find the grave of James mason wilder, the father of almanzo wilder, husband to Laura Ingalls wilder in crowley Louisiana a mere 45 minute detour into our 10 hour drive to Florida.

Was it dedication or nerdiness that led me to tramp through wet, uneven grass while trying not to step on graves, and peer into a few cracked concrete slabs? Not to mention having my two year old pee in the cemetery while hearing my 5 year old complain. Although I am not sure why she is complaining since re-reading the series with her was what rekindled my life long interest ( obsession) and since she has been wearing the little house dress my mom made for me in 1983 since Wednesday.

At this rate we may not get there until tomorrow.

H's celebrity crush

Watching Johnny depp on jimmy kümmel

H:  what is he doing?  I can't figure it out.  Why is he acting like that?

Me:  because he is a dumb dumb.  He is trying to be cool.  He thinks he is not human, like he is some kind of super cool alien living among us dumb asses.

H:  is he trying to Talk with an English accent?

Me:  oh my god, who cares?? You want to know why I won't be watching the Lone Ranger?  Because of Johnny depp.  I don't watch Johnny depp in anything.  Let me tell you something.   I hate him, I hated him in he 80s,  in the ...

H( with dream like reverie)  oh, the 80s 21 jump street.

Me:  ask me if I watched 21 jump street,  even one time...

H:  your parents didn't let you watch 21 jump street.

Me( indignant ). What?  My parents don't even know what 21 jump street is.

H:  everyone knows that your parents didn't let you watch 21 jump street.

Me:  how can you even say that? You don't know what they let me watch...

h:   I know your parents and they did not let you watch 21 jump street.

Me:  we didn't watch that channel

H: because 21 jump street was on it.

Me:  I didn't watch it because I hate Johnny depp.

And them, as is his habit, he changed he channel, sparing us all from further debate.

what I would like to say to my husband, but won't, since it's father's day

Dear Hyphen,

It was really impressive the other night, when after breaking the disposal and clogging up the sink, you were able to fix it.  The Spurs were playing, and you were hot and tired from work and were looking forward to coming home and watching the game--we all were.  But then the sink clogged and you spent three hours fixing it, saving us hundreds of dollars in plumbing fees.

I appreciated your honesty, that you thought you stuffed too much fish down the disposal (unlike the time I put a lemon down it and pretended I didn't know why it broke), and that you were glad that it happened on your watch and not mine, because you said if I had broken it, you would have been mad.  It's good that you can admit your failings, that sometimes you lack patience and get mad about things that just happen and are not really anyone's fault.

I helped you that night, I cleaned up the greasy, disgusting mess, and I did it with loving kindness and was even having some sexy feelings toward you in a you-cave-man-and-fix-things-and-me-cave-woman-and-clean-things kind of way.

But it is really too bad you didn't spend three hours and ten minutes fixing it.  Because if you had, you might have thought to connect the water-line that leads from the dishwasher to the disposal, whereby preventing the second mess I just had to clean up in the kitchen and also preventing the comment "well, if you hadn't run the dishwasher, this never would have happened, so it is kind of your fault."

I am dazzled by your incompetence, both as a plumber and a human being.

Kind regards,
your dear and loving wife

P.S. Happy father's day dude.

For my brother, who misses it

Audrey and the girls came to see us this weekend, and so as part of the Summer of Fun 2013, cousin edition, we loaded up the van and headed to Galveston.

Where we did some of this

Little Surfer girl

Sam

Tootles, not in the water for the first hour we were there, just snacking

Two peas in a pod

Now, I am in the water

Lilly

And saw some of this

why are only baby wedgies cute?  Like this on a 39 year old is just gross, right?

We never get tired of seeing brown pelicans

And wrote some of this about a million times.

When I was working, and pregnant, I had this friend who told me that I would love having kids and most likely be a good mom but that I would find my children "tiresome and wearisome."  I found this comment peculiar.  Very peculiar.  But the guy was and is an egghead, so I discounted it and moved along because no one was going to bring me down from my new mommy high with their somewhat dour perspective on parenthood.

But 5 years and two kids into it, I get it.  They can be tiresome and wearisome.  Hell, on the way to Galveston we had to endure whining about hunger, whining about the stop to get food where we had to get one of the twins out of the third row while in the to-go line for a potty break, hear more whining about needing to hear the ice cream and cake song, fighting about the music being too loud and too quiet, fighting about cupholders, blankets and teddy, plus the fake vomit from the third row vs. fake poop from the second row fight--all of which caused H to comment "too bad this isn't a 15 hour road trip."  Oh, and did I mention that while gassing the van at the Valero on Crosstimbers (why he would choose to gas the car on crosstimbers is a mystery to me, especially when his wife, children, sister-in-law and nieces are in it) H was called a racial slur by an old man who looked like a black Santa on crack. ("hey, chink, you got two quarters?"  except chink was said in a loving way, like bro, or buddy)

So, yeah, I get it they can be tiresome and wearisome.  The point is, sometimes you get tiresome and wearisome.  And sometimes, you get this:

 

At the doctor's office....

Imaginary play has kicked in, big time.  I heard this today as I was cooking and she was playing in the kitchen with the doctor's kit she stole from Annabelle.  Her patient was a stuffed frog also stolen from Annabelle's room.

"Hello, my name is docdohr Ta-loo-lah.  You bwoke youhr ahrm.  You need shot now.  Dehehr you go.  Good job.  High 5.  Now you go see docdohr cook now.  No, he no give you a spanking.  He nice"

For someone who is so sure that Dr. Cook is nice, she sure pitches a fit when we go to see him.  Just saying....

zydeco soul

If you know me, and you would have to really know me, then you would know that I really like accordion music--of all varieties.  I used to drive to my parents house on Saturday mornings rather than Friday night, just so I could hear a radio station out of La Grange's Saturday morning polka hour, where they would play classics such as "shut up and drink your beer" and "horsey keep your tail up."  Once, at a CLE, I tried to spread my love of polka music but was made fun of for calling the accordion the squeeze box--of course they made something perverted out of it, but that just tells me that if you asked them jak se mas, one of them would just be like, "I am fine and watching star wars and waiting for the market to crash" and the other one would cry like a girl if you got mayonnaise near him.

Every year in Houston, there is an accordion festival and I have always been too busy or out of town to go.  But not this year. This year, as part of the summer of fun 2013, we went.

It started of with the chezchaholics, then there was an accordion contest, and then a zydeco band and then a band called the home town boys.

The kids started off dancing and we picnicked, of course, and then the zydeco came on.   Annabelle eventually got tired, and made herself comfortable right next to some other people's blanket, basically lying down right next to a stranger.  Tallulah got her grove on, big time, and danced for the entire set.

I am not sure where she gets it from....well maybe I am...

happy feet

polka and two

summer of fun 2013

things I want to do this summer

1.  go to hamilton pool
2.  catch fireflies
3.  have one picnic a week
4.  bellaire aquatic center as many times as possible
5.  a family trip with just my people, no one else
6.  get annabelle reading, really reading
7.  get tallulah to learn her letters
8.  read the borrowers, on the banks of plum creek, the other astrid lindgren series about the boy detective
9.  find a lighthouse
10.  musuems
11.  fireworks
12.  be bored
13.  sprinkler fun
14.  lose the training wheels
15.  find  lighthouse

who is in????

Weekend happenings

We live in an international time in an international city, at least according to all the press Houston is getting lately for being so cool. I am not sure how I feel about this because sometimes I think that all of this worldliness dilutes us, but I guess if I really felt strongly about this I would live elsewhere and have married differently.

This weekend started out with a trip to greekfest. The kids tanked up on gyro meat and learned about the traditional clothing of Crete. And there was dancing, of course and now I have a 5 year old who wants to go to Crete.

Saturday marked the end of soccer season . H was one of the coaches and I was very proud of his involvement. The kids all seemed to really like him, too. One kid asked Annabelle, "does your dad have a black belt?" Awesomeness.

Then on Saturday night we headed to Miller Outdoor Theater to see a performance of la boheme. Miller Outdoor Theater might be the coolest thing about cool Houston. They provide free, world class entertainment for the whole city to enjoy all while eating a picnic supper. We weren't sure how opera would go over with the 2 and 5 year old crowd, but figured that if you re going to introduce your kids to it, this is the way to do it.    Personally I will always think of this performance as "la bathroom," because I took Tallulah there 4 times including once for a poop accident. Tallulah was content as long as she had a cupcake, and since I had 6 of them and since she is a slow eater, I was able to read the libretto to Annabelle. Annabelle fell in love with Mimi and when I returned from one of my trips to the loo with Miss Luu she was  overjoyed to tell me that Mimi decided to stay with Rodolfo .

And then came act four.   There questions like, " Is that the doctor??"  "Is the doctor coming soon?? "  And then the realization, " mommy I don't think the doctor is going to make it in time." In the end she was crying and told us she "hated this opera" which is strong for her because she thinks hate is a bad word, which, of course, it is. Hyphen snapped a picture of her anguish with his phone, you can almost see it in the dark .

Then today after mass, we headed to Chinatown to eat at Tan Tan. Annabelle asked why we always have to eat at Japanese restaurants, to which I replied " because you are half Japanese." And that's how your dad got his black belt and why he can wax the car so well.

Annabelle and her BFF Greek dancing

I hate this opera

When in Chinatown eat as the Chinamen do.

I wanna be a Vietnamese vaquero

H : "It's hard to drive with a cowboy hat on."

Me: how did the cowboys do it?

H: I don't know, but I am pretty sure they weren't in a mini van.

a glimpse of things to come

We went to Oil Ranch today, out in Hockley.  It's one of those places that has pony rides and playgrounds and teepees and a train ride and a barn with animals and a hayloft.

We went with some other moms, one of whom is the mother to a boy we have known since Annabelle was six months old. This kid is a real rounder, full of piss and vinegar, as my dad does indeed say, and a kid who I legitimately like, not in the patronizing way in which adults like children, but in the way a person enjoys another person's company.

In the way of life long friendships between 5 year olds, Annabelle and The Boy alternate between fighting, bossing each other around and playing beautifully together and today was no exception.

They were in the hayloft, jumping and sliding and then The Boy's mother had to take some other kids to the bathroom and he was left in my care.  By this time, things had settled down in the barn and it was just us in the hayloft.  Someone, someone who clearly doesn't understand how hard it is to get hay off of a fleece jacket, suggested that we bury The Boy in hay before his mom came back and then scare her.  The Boy, being an adventurous sort, was game, with one caveat--no hay in his face.

So he and Annabelle set about burying him in hay and after while some hay got in his face and he asked Annabelle if she could get it out.  She obliged. She obliged with gentleness, with tenderness-- removing little pieces of hay from his hair, around his nose, the freckles on his cheeks and in the corners of his eyes.  His eyes were closed and his face was peaceful and relaxed, and he had a slight smile.  She obliged and I watched and I felt queer in my stomach.  I felt like I was removed from them and they from me.  I felt like I was intruding, that maybe I should look away, but I was transfixed by a request so small and in some way so meaningful.  It was ineffable.

And it is inevitable.  Someday, if Annabelle is very lucky, she will fall in love and have a moment like this that is real.  Right now, she is five, and has an age appropriate understanding of what romantic love is.  I am not one that tries to tag children with adult emotions and by no means think she has a crush on this boy, or likes him in any other than a 5 year old way, especially given the other night at soccer when he pushed her and knocked over her water bottle and she retaliated by kicking him a little bit too high in the leg with her cleats on...allegedly.  

But someday, she and her sister will fall in love and touch a boy's face with real tenderness and until that day part of our job as their parents is to show them what love looks like, and teach them how to love and be loved, not only for them but for society as a whole.

It makes me happy.  It makes me sad.

The word I am looking for is bittersweet.    

when you fall out of love...

A long time ago, I would have stayed up late for this.  I would have been looking forward to it with baited breath.  But not anymore, frankly, I could give a flying f!@# (as my mom says my dad says, but really only she says).  I might have dvr'd it and laughed at his glibness and then called my parents to see if they saw him, which of course they would have because they are old and still watch Leno, all the while listening to my husband say what a moron he is.  I would have provocatively said"you're not jealous are you?" and then given him a wet kiss just below his ear on his neck in a way that H would know I was really thinking of him, my one celebrity crush.

But not any more.

Screw you Matt Lauer.  You got Ann Curry fired and now I hate you forever.

old dog, new tricks

We have some kind of dumb ass dog, as some of you may know.  She will be 10 this year.  She is a complete nimrod who can barely turn a corner or walk across the kitchen without guidance, suffering from several strange dog neuroses.  And some nice people will say, oh she must be going blind--well tell that to the squirrels she can see from across the yard.  She has finally stopped trying to eat the baby (teenage now) chicks.  She runs out of the house and heads straight for the coop and barks and circles it like a shark until I have to bring her inside out of consideration for her elderly heart and my elderly neighbors.

My list of current grievances will continue:

She has figured out how to open the back door and come in the house.

She has figured out how to climb onto my white couch and sleep on it.  (thank the Lord for slipcovers)

She has figured out how to put her paws on the dining room table and take grocery bags off the table and eat the contents of those bags (hamburger buns) right before we had people over for dinner (hamburgers).

She has figured out how to open a sippy cup with her paws and drink out of it while holding it with said paws    .
But she also figured out when the girls left the back yard to walk to the side of the house to cut some roses off the climbing rose bush.  She was inside with me in the living room and lifted up her head and began to bark hysterically, getting more and more frantic until I heard and small knock on the  front door and there they were (leaving the backyard was Tallulah's idea, according to Annabelle--yeah, right).

And despite her fear of the hallway, she knows how to turn the living room corner and walk skittishly down it, push the door open with her nose and stand guard-- well lie guard, to be more accurate--by the foot of Annabelle's bed when there is a night time thunder storm.

Old dog, new tricks.

When scissors attack....

no one who was inside at the time was spared, not even the dog. But Tallulah got the worst of it, by far.

But, as my mom says, "shit happens--it's how you clean it up that's important."

So, when the 5 year old sister in life gives you a botched hair cut, go to great clips and rock out the pixie.

how it looked before

geriatric traffic offenses.

Call to my parents while they are driving home from a wedding in Austin, lost in more than one sense of the word, heading to cedar park

Singing in the background...

Mom:We are lost because your father missed the exit.

Dad: (singing stopped)We are not lost we are on rundeberg.  Rund-e-berg.  We are headed west.

Mom:  we are lost and who knows where, I have to worry about all kinds of people in this city-- blacks, Asian gangs, mexicans and white trash...

Dad: and with only a sliver moon to navigate.  We are having fun.

Mom: there is a stop sign right there!

Dad:  I see it.

Mom:  Then why are you going 40mph?

Dad:  So I can screech on the brakes.

Mom: And we are high(my mom says high for buzzed).  And they are going to arrest us and take us to jail.I bet if I asked this computer (she means her phone) how to get to cedar park it would say "you super dumb ass."  (dad in the background saying "rundeberg, rundeberg")

Dad:  (coming to his senses)  No, it would say go two blocks and get on 183.

Mom:  We are no where near 183.  What is that?  Is that the hospital that Audrey was in?

Dad:  I think it is...

Mom:  Oh, great, great a dead end.  Now can we turn around???  I see 35 from here,

Dad:  I know, I see 183 also.

Mom:  Go that way go that way, see?   There is a an exit.

Dad:  See, 183?  I told you...

Mom:Oh shut up, if you didn't have me you would be stuck that dead end.  Pendejo.

Dad:  let's exit duval and see if we can find a bar.

Mom:  no let's find one in cedar park.

Then the phone beeped and I had to hang up.  It was Audrey, looking for them.

Rothko chapel

Ever once in a while, I get a'feared that my children need more aculutating than they get from watching bugs bunny and so I up and do something right peculiar...

Like taking them to the Rothko chapel.

The Rothko chapel was conceived by noted Houston philanthropists Dominique and John de Menil who wanted a place where artsy contemplative souls of all faiths could get together and worship or meditate or wear all black and try to look cool while staring at canvases by Mark Rothko in a building designed by him.  I am sure that some art history major could explain this better than I, being an English major...not that you can tell by my propensity for slang, run-on sentences, and typos.  

I had never been to visit it, which is a shame for having lived here for 16 years.  So, I got us all dressed up, because, while I may not appreciate art, I do respect it, and I told the kids we were going to a place that was like a museum and church put together.

Annabelle was excited, because she loves museums.  We had been to the Prado exhibit at the MFAH a couple of months ago and she stared at each picture in the exhibit for some time.  She was particularly captivated by the lamb of God one by Zurburan and was deeply moved and saddened by the ones depicting the Crucifixion.  Artsy.  Contemplative.  Soul.

Tallulah informed me that she is afraid of dinosaurs, to which I reassured her, we weren't going to that museum.  

There is a park that surrounds the chapel and a reflection pool in front of it and it was a beautiful day to be outside.  And after we explored the park we headed inside and I told the girls we had to be quiet.

We walked into the chapel, which is the shape of an octagon and on each of the walls hang canvasses that are painted all black or black and brown.  Annabelle and Tallulah sat down and Annabelle looked around.  There were people sitting on benches in absolute silence, and some were kneeling on pillows in front of the pictures.  It was nice and peaceful, but to be honest, I am just not that deep of a person and am not really appreciative of modern art.  But, being the mother of small children, I do like quiet and the idea of having a place to sit and think.

And then my 5 year old, whose idea of "museum" and "church" are drastically different than what we were seeing had to point out that this emperor was a tad, well, naked.

"You mean we had to get all this dressed up for all this nothing???"

I stifled a laugh and began to point out how the pictures seemed to changed colors when a cloud went over head and how the room was the same shape as a stop sign, and how the doors seemed to be in a pattern.  I told her it was a place to think quiet thoughts.  And then she got into it, made herself comfortable on our bench and took it all in.

And there we sat, quiet and peaceful for a couple of minutes thinking quiet thoughts.  They were being more quiet than the hipsters who were whispering to themselves--they got shushed by the proctor.    And then I hear a soft, song...in a whisper... "and on that farm he had some sheep, e-i-e-i-o."

Apparently, Tallulah's thoughts lean towards the pastoral.

Then she does what she does in church, digs in my purse, takes off her hair bow and poops in her diaper, all at the same time.

I scooped her up and we hopped off the bench just in time...the proctor was heading our way.

great climbing tress in the park

my lovely girls

Never make stir fry from Iowa Girl Eats for a man who spent 8 months of his life in Vietnam

I would like to discuss today what I sadly feel is an acceptable form of bigotry that has recently cut me to the core--the belief among Asians that white people can't make Asian food.

Now obviously, you could write this off to Hyphen's super positive and life affirming personality. But the thing is, I know other Asians and they also share this belief, to wit:  My friend T_____.  The other day I was telling her about our food co-op and how we got daikon radishes and how I had no idea what to do with them.  One of the honky co-op members suggested, via our big tent page,  pickling them and putting them on a bahn mi (Vietnmese sandwich). My friend burst into laughter and said, I am sorry but I just laugh when white people try to make Vietnamese food.

Later, when I told H we had daikon, he said, "I guess we could pickle them and put them on a bahn mi"

Fast forward to tonight.  I found this great food blog called Iowa girl eats and I decided to make a stir fry.  Looked good.  I felt that H might have sustained an eye cramp from rolling them when he saw what I was doing.  He had about two bites and announced he might have to go back to work and taste something.  Annabelle refused to try it because it had tofu and Tallulah happily ate the rice and some of the broccoli until she realized how spicy it was and wiped her tongue with her hand and when that didn't put out the fire, wiped her tongue on her dad's shoulder (who I might add, was wearing a wife beater to the dinner table, but I digress)

I ate three helpings.  Because it was good.

It was better than anything we have had at Eastern, or North China (H's go to neighborhood places which are actually disgusting)  It was better than the time we had what I suspect was carp at that place out on I-10.    It was better than the boiled, cut up chicken we had at New Year's.  It was better than that god-awful pineapple chicken we got sophomore year in college from that place on broadway.  It was better than anything from dragon bowl where we ate with somewhat regularity, (which has closed, rip).  And most importantly , it was better than the quail eggs braised in soy sauce I had to try back in 2000, the year of the 15 New Year's dishes and the east meets west arroz con pollo that the dog wouldn't even eat back on 2001, both of those culinary disasters were made by Hyphen--you know--the Asian guy I live with.

I could totally see him ordering this from some take out place, bringing it home and when we realized it was a tad too spicy saying, in his sweetly apologetic way (yes he can be sweet, just not today) "sorry about the veg, babe, I thought the girls would like it because of the broccoli.  I didn't realize it would be so spicy."  And I would say, in my encouraging, I -love-you-and-am-just-grateful-you-brought- home takeout way "I didn't think it was that spicy, I thought it was great.  They are two and five, they think kraft singles taste good"  And then he would say "kraft singles do taste good," but again, I digress.  

My husband, though, is a food genius. And I am not being sarcastic when I say this.  He is truly a food genius and the entire upper kirby district of Houston would look remarkably different if it were not for his gastronomic acumen, and general intelligence. He doesn't believe this and would never want me to say it, but it is true.

One would think that someone who cooks Italian food like an old nonna, who can fry chicken that would make the South rise again, who can make a tomtillo sauce that can transport you to...well you get the picture...one would think that that person would not be blinded by this food prejudice.

And yet, there he sat.  In his wife beater, eating cuties for supper with the girls because one of the ingredients in  my stir fry sauce was peanut butter.

this was good and you can find it here

What happens in castroville... will not be broadcast over the internet

While I was home, I was using the computer and I noticed there was a little piece of paper stuck on it.  When I noticed it there the next day, I realized it was covering the camera, and so I said....

Me: "Is this covering your camera?  Do you think people are watching you?"

Mom (scandalized):  "you know they can do that, I read it on the internet.  They are watching you and then they broadcast you over the internet."

Me(wondering who this "they" is that I've been hearing about all my life) But all they will be seeing is a picture of you playing spider solitaire."

Mom (indignant):  "So ?  That is me playing spider solitaire and it is private and not for anyone else to see."

Sorry, They--my mom has outwitted you, once again....

what we've been up to

1.  Annabelle had a birthday party about a month ago.  She invited her whole class and her favorite friends from the neighborhood, and it has taken me a month to recover.  The theme was pippi longstocking bubble gum, because we love pippi and we have wanted to chew bubble gum since we were two, but bubble gum is for five year old girls, so we have been patiently waiting for 3 years.  We had a couple of party fouls on this one as we forgot to invite two people who are very important to us.  The friend who invited us to her build a bear party that gave us teddy, who we love and who goes everywhere with us, and W____A_____ who we have invited to every party since we were born, and for that, I am sorry.

the view from upstairs

5 year old girl

yeah, I made this, suck it mormon mommies

2.  Annabelle and H decided I wasn't busy enough, so they got me some chicks to take care of.....

3.  Tallulah continues with being terribly two

Don't jump on the bed, tootles

I said knock it off

Ok, I'll get the camera...

4.  Froberg farms

H sustaining an injury that he termed "migrant farm worker back."  I suspect the problem with his back is his front.

5.  Strawberry-Meyer lemon jam at Grandma's, and lots of fights, between me and my mom, of course

6.  Sprinkler cartwheels on St. Paddy's day

watch me

up and over

i did it!

me do one, too.

dat fun