To T and G, whose life just went from black and white to technicolor

You think you're happy. And you are. You go on trips, you decide for no particular reason to eat out in Chinatown on a Wednesday night at 8:00, you sleep in and take naps on the weekend, you get a drink with co-workers at the corner pub and end up staying there until 9:00. You do all those things that d.i.n.k.s do, and you do them well, and with enthusiasm. And you can't imagine it any other way. You are happy. You think you're happy, and you are, you really are.

I was Annabelle's age when I first saw the Wizard of Oz. I remember how beautifully Dorothy sang over the rainbow. I thought she was so pretty, I loved the song, I wanted to sing like her and braid my hair like hers. But it was in black and white, and I had this sneaking suspicion that something was off--there had to be more, right? I remember looking at my mom and saying, "is the whole movie like this?"

I remember her response, "Just wait. It gets better."

The first time we were really a family, really a family, as opposed to two single people, playing house, was in the hospital room. Hyphen was congratulating me. "You did it, you did it, I can't believe you did it!" We were still two single people when he said that. In essence we were living the same life as two college kids going for dates in an un-air conditioned ford tempo, and then I said the words that turned us into a real, live, family.

"Can you check on the baby?"

And that was it. It was magic. It was Oz. We were not in Kansas any more.

And now fast forward six plus years, it is almost ten o clock at night on the eve before New Year's Eve, and the four of us are feeding our puzzle addiction with a thousand piece Charles Wysocki, listening contentedly to country classics and the quiet buzz of our good-for-nothing-dog snoring on the new bed that Santa brought her.

It's technicolor, man.

And now, my dear friends of 22 years, friends who rode in that ford tempo with us, are getting to walk down that yellow brick road for the very first time.

It just got better. It just got so much better.

The nutcracker

I took the girls to see the nutcracker today.

Simply put: it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Other than things in nature and the birth of my children, of course.

How could such a simple story inspire such beautiful music? How can anyone come up with such a melody, especially when the nutcracker prince is dancing with the sugar plum fairy--it is just beauty to hear. And then the dancing--that some one today can think of steps to go with music that was written 150 years ago, and to let it be that everything on the stage is so lovely. You have to see it from up high to get the full effect of it all. How the skirts billow out, the pattern the dancers make with their bodies, the colors, the costumes. The athleticism. The legs of the dancers. How can they leap without making a sound? They spin and spin and spin, the audience was clapping during their performances, especially when the men were dancing because it was so amazing.

I was 40 years old when I saw it, but my daughters were 4 and 6. I am not sure if they can possibly understand how pretty it was. To them, perhaps this is just how it is. Nutcracker. Done. Maybe it is better to be 40 to see such beauty for the first time. To wonder, what else is out there? What beauty awaits?

Perhaps it is not sophisticated. People probably regard Tchaikovsky as smaltzy or corny. To those people, I say -- I am sorry. I am sorry that you are so cynical that in your quest to be unique or cool or avant garde you fail to appreciate something that is truly beautiful.

I am sorry that hyphen thinks he hates ballet, and did not go. He missed Annabelle's running commentary:

"Where is Clara, why is fritz so annoying, I hope Tallulah isn't scared of the mice. Is the mouse king dead? Do the boys only wear tights? That isn't very modest. I think those soldiers came out of a hole in the state that Clara's bed was covering. There is a rope that moves the sled, I saw it. Do you see those white spots on the stage? That is so they know where to stand. It is neat how the curtain is kind of clear...." and so on.

I thought Tallulah was asleep. She yawned real big right when they turned out the lights. But when I glanced over at her she was staring intently with a somber look on her face. Concentrating. She wasn't on the edge of her seat, because she wasn't heavy enough to keep it down, so she was kind of folded in half, staring quietly, and she remained that way for the entire performance.

I understood each of their reactions. One was stimulated, one was awestruck.

I was both.

What we were excited about today.

Yesterday Annabelle came home with "a book that Mrs. Fisher read to us last year, and momma, I fell in LOVE with it. I love it. I seriously do, and I was lucky to find it."

It's about latkes. These are Jewish potato pancakes.

Today, she woke up and proclaimed " guess what today is!!??"

I thought and said "9 days until Christmas?

"No, momma. It's the first day of Hanukkah!"

Have I mentioned that I love this kid?

Her enthusiasm continued and when we got to ballet and her friend was telling everyone that she got to open a present tonight, Annabelle didn't even need to ask why. She said " I know, because it's Hanukkah! It's the first day. I am so excited."

Even at dinner she was singing the dreidel song. I have no idea how she learned this, or knows anything about Hanukkah, other than a little presentation one of her Jewish classmates did at Christmas around the world last year, but she does.

We just looked at each other and smiled. We smiled the smile we smile at each other when we can't say what we want, which is please, please, don't ever grow up. Please stay six forever. It's a sad smile--- well, not really. Not sad. Just bittersweet.

Master of the house

H has these really annoying sleeping habits that have been on my nerves since we were first married. He likes to fall asleep watching television, then after he's had his initial slumber, he likes to get up and come to bed for real. Usually this is at 1. Sometimes, sooner. Sometimes, later.

Tonight, we were all watching our only show, the voice, which you shouldn't let your kids watch, but most of it goes over their heads, so no big d. The dog was with us, as is her way. I guess she got tired of Tallulah laying on her, so she went to our room, where her bed is. This sent Tallulah into a full on sobbing jag, so we ordered the dog out. She obliged, but with a kind of teenager-ish look," like seriously? I was in bed." Tallulah set about trying to make her comfortable, coaxing her with blankets, and stroking her ears, but because our dog is winning combination of ungrateful and stupid, she doesn't realize that Tallulah's love is keeping her on this planet, so she eventually got up and went back to her bed. Which may be why on Tallulah's revised Christmas list there is " a dog, of my own, who I can train, by myself." (Thankfully the revised edition came out after the note went to Santa.)

The kids went to bed, and after I came out of their room, I see the dog, back out in the living room next to hyphen, both of them watching tv. Well, one of them. The other was scratching his balls.

I go upstairs. I am trying to clean out the playroom in preparation for next week's toy onslaught.

I come back downstairs and as I do h heads to bed. Darned if the the darn dog didn't follow him.

I start to think about her movements. She is always up and down all night. Moving from one room to the next. I think about how annoying her sleep habits have always been, how they have been on my nerves since we first got her...

Am I the stupid one? How could I not have realized? She is following him? She is loyal to him? Not to the one who feeds her (me) and not to the one who loves her (t).

Loyalty to the man who holds her in no regard. That is one dumb---, well, you know.

Talluliloo

I want to remember this as the christmas where she was just starting to not be scared of Santa. "He's nice wight? It's ok if he comes in my house. Wight?" I want to remember that she asked for a" stuffed animal chicken that can walk on a leash," and a"control remote helicopter." I want to remember her paper Christmas tree, the one she made in school, that was so meticulously decorated. I want her to remember that when I saw it, I said, "you are just like your papa." And that I said it with love and a smile. I want to remember that when Annabelle was sick, she brought her Teddy, even though he had throw up on him, and because she is like her dad and doesn't want to touch gross stuff-- this was hard for her, but because she is 100 percent selfless when it comes to the person she loves most in the world, and will touch vomit for her, it was easy at the same time. I want to remember how at the first grade birthday party today, she jumped into the ruckus, to tear our beloved class hooligan off of the little kid he was pummeling. I want to hear how she says yellow. Led-ow. I never want her to say it right. No one ever fix this, ever. And these are just the things that have happened in the last couple of days.

How can I chronicle all of this? How can I record every moment and enjoy them, at the same time? Someone tell me. In the next few days, I am in charge of, attending, or heavily involved in a class party, two gift exchanges, two birthday parties, a CCE party, a Christmas pageant dress rehearsal,the actual pageant itself, shopping, addressing cards, mailing presents, all while nursing her sister through a night of vomiting-- all of these things that can make your life a drudgery at this time of year, and I may not have the time or inclination to play "pail nolish" with her.

Because when I am 80 years old, I want to remember how she got mad at Audrey for teasing her and said "when you are asleep, I am going to get my dog to come upstairs and diarrhea in your mouth."

I will want to remember 4 year old Tallulah, and all of her contrasts, and I am scared I will sleepwalk through it.

In case you are in need of some cheering up...

My kids love to hear stories about when I was a kid, and they especially like to hear stories about their crazy aunt, or "auntie," as they refer to her. So a while back I told them about the time when auntie had really stinky feet and when she was mad at us, would torture us by taking off her shoes and letting the smell permeate our air space.

Never tell a story like this to a kid who doesn't forget stuff...,,

Fast forward to this year, when it rained and rained and Annabelle, for reasons only she knows, decided to walk in every rain puddle there ever was in her nice school shoes, the ones she wears every day, without socks.

Then, fast forward a little more to this week. I am in the car and I smell something dreadful.

"Something in here smells like death," I say, more to myself than to anyone else.

Tallulah, who is looking at a book replies, without looking up, " it's Annabelle's feet."

" oh my god! Annabelle! Do something about that!"

" Ok!" She snorts and then squeals with laughter as she sticks her feet as close to my face as possible.

The smell could gag a maggot, seriously. And I am dying from the odor and about to pee in my pants because Audrey did this same thing to my mom, this same exact thing, almost 30 years ago and that memory and my current situation are making me laugh hysterically.

It's the circle of life, well, at least in our crazy family.

However, as beautiful as the circle is, I think I will refrain from telling her about the butt juice story.....

Why I haven't felt like blogging

So I write all the time in my head, but by the end of the day, I am simply too tired to write anything down, and lately I have this writer's block because something horrible that happened in our family.

You see, for two glorious weeks, we had kittens. And they were adorable and we all loved them, even Hyphen. They liked to climb up his pants when he cooked and it cracked him up.

But the dog didn't. She was banished to life outside, because they were simply too small to be around her. Plus the day we brought them home, she pointed at them, like they were a duck. The damn dog has never been on a hunt and can lie outside surrounded by squirrels and birds and not flick a whisker. But she points at our tiny kittens

I think you know where this is headed.

Tallulah loved them the most. Everyday she would put on pants, so their tiny claws wouldn't hurt her legs and hold them for hours. She loved to watch tom and jerry with them. "Look at me, mama! I'm covered in cats! "

Then one awful day, one terrible awful day, we rode our bikes to school. And when we went to pick up Annabelle we rode our bikes again. And, as is my habit when I ride bikes, I left the back door unlocked. And our dog, who is so dumb that if you threw a blanket in her head would just live with it on her head, opened the back door, because when she really wants to, she can open the back door, despite her immense stupidity. And she found the kittens who were cuddled on the couch together and she killed them.

I fucking hate that dog for that.

We discovered that the dog wasn't in the yard and the girls were panicked, like she got out of the yard, and then we went inside to get the leash to look for her and she came to us, and then we went running to find the kittens and they were dead.

I screamed that I hated the dog and that was the last day we would have her, which upset the girls. Annabelle said "you mean after all that, we have to lose the dog too?" H blamed me, and I blamed me, but truthfully it was a horrible accident and another truth--it was bound to happen. The damn dog was used to having her run of the house, and she couldn't understand why she was outside all the time. We had been trying to introduce them gradually but she would just shake uncontrollably whenever she saw them. Damn dog.

We told the girls she was just playing too rough with them. Maybe. For the next few days, she was searching all over the house. Sniffing everywhere, in places she doesn't normally go (because she is a moron and is afraid of certain parts of the house) high and low, looking for something. I think it was the kittens. Maybe she wanted to play with them, or just eat them. Who knows.

What kills me is that a day hasn't passed where Tallulah hasn't said "I miss the kittens." She says it when Annabelle isn't around because Annabelle has made it very clear that she never wants to think about it again. Tallulah contents herself with a stuffed kitten that she holds and pets when she watches tom and jerry. And, because she has this enormous capacity to love, she still loves on the dog every day. Every single day. She lies on her, she shares her food with her, she strokes her ears. She talks to her, she fusses at her. She loves her.

The dog is getting positively fat from all the Halloween candy Tallulah is sneaking to her. Like I don't know.... ( no more okay? Okay, dog? Shhh, she's coming. Last piece, okay? )

Last night she was a little sick. She threw up and was just poorly today. Probably too much candy. Today was the first day I petted her since the incident. Because I really don't like her. Now, though, I don't know how my poor baby will take it on the sad, sad, day when she dies.

The only reason she is still here is because they love her so much. And she has a keen awareness of their whereabouts at all times. When they are in the front yard, she barks hysterically. When there is a thunderstorm, she runs to find them, and if it is at night she whines until I let her into their room where she will sleep between their beds.

Labs live 10 to 12 years. We are on year 11. During this time she has been a pest. From the first day we had her and she pooped in her own kennel 5 minutes after H let her out. She never let snowball, our old dog, now gone on to the other side, get any attention. She is a pig. A chicken killer, a cat killer. She wakes up every morning at 4:45on the dot and whines to get out and then 20 minutes later barks to come in. That's 4:45 in the a.m. And let's not forget when Tallulah was 6 months old and couldn't sleep through the night and Annabelle was also waking up every night because she had peed all over the bed or thrown up (allergies which make her cough until she vomits) and it felt like I was up at all hours and the dog decided that she too would get in on the act and need to go out at 1 in the morning. Let's not forget that glorious period that lasted until Tallulah started sleeping through the night, three months later.

The hamburger buns that H got from central market special for our party? Gobbled up before the party started. Right off the kitchen table. Bag included. Annabelle's heart candy necklace. Eaten in one bite. Countless sippy cups destroyed. She ate part of my sister's diaper bag. And just this weekend she got into my purse, scattering its contents all over the place, munching on tampons and lipsticks. I wish I were making this crap up....

We are on year 11. She gets up slowly now to amble over to her dog bed. She prefers to sleep on my Ethan Allen sofa. I remember what my neighbor said when Annabelle was first born and she was temporarily banished to the outside and wouldn't stop barking. I told him my mom wanted me to drop the dog off on I10. Perra afrentosa, she calls her. "610 is closer," he said without batting an eye.

And I am so sad about the cats. I really loved them. I forgot what it feels like to really love an animal. The joy they bring. It's a joy, not a burden.

Really, though, to remember, I need look no further than the living room carpet while we watch our tv show. There is the dog, cuddled up to Tallulah. Two peas in a furry flea pod. Tallulah loves her. She really loves her.

And that love is the only reason why she is still here.

Lyssa Castellanos and the Great Impromptu Pool Party and how it made me a better mom

Last January, I got a text from one of the moms in my posse. It read: Henry told me that Annabelle is having a pet show at her house on Saturday. That she is passing out a sign up sheet and is having a meeting for decorations and that he needs to be at your house on Saturday morning at 9 to help set up. Just thought you should know.

Yeah thanks, because I did not know.

And it made me chuckle because it reminded me of my family's favorite Lyssa Castellanos Story, a story that 30 plus years later still makes us laugh. And it goes like this:

My parents get a call one Saturday. It is Lyssa. She is about 7. She says that her family is having a pool party and that we are invited. For some reason, my mom decides to call Magda to see what time and what to bring. Turns out, Madga did not know, but told us to come at 6 and to bring chips. We did, and so did everyone else she invited and it was an awesome party.

As a kid, I went to the party and had fun. As an adult child, I thought this was funny. I though--that's Lyssa, always so social, always the life of the party. But as a parent I think of this story in a different way. Here was a child who was confident. Here was a child who was comfortable enough with her family and her place in her family, that she felt she could invite people over to her house. She didn't need to ask. Of course it would be ok. Here were parents who knew their child and valued their child for who she was and decided to throw a party.

For who she was.

So with this as our guide, we decided to go for it. They made signs, we bought trophies, there was a set up meeting and then-- the pet show. Goldfish and animal crackers were served. We had a few dogs, a hermit crab, a beta fish, and one kid who brought an oragami eagle. Henry was the emcee and judge and it was clear to everyone that he is the next Chris Marrou. There was a parade of pets and everyone had to introduce their own pet and tell fun facts about it.

The decision was easy. It took me about one second to text back, yes come on Saturday at three. And I thought of Lyssa and her family. I thought how social Annabelle is, and, not to brag, but I gave ourselves parent attaboys for this.

What a joy childhood is, to live it and relive it. Through the prism of memory and through magic of your daughter's eyes.

Minor concerns, irritations and triumphs

1. I feel that I may have lost my mosquito immunity. And in houston, that could be devastating. You see, I am. Someone who can be outside, especially if I am outside with hyphen or Tallulah and not get one bite. You read that right, I am not above using my toddler daughter as bait. They land on me and fly away. But then last Saturday I was bitten and have been continuously ever since. I am deet-ly troubled over this.

2. We have an insanely busy day on Saturday, which includes, but is not limited to celebrating my friend's 40th birthday at some dreadful 80s club where grown up people decide to wear fishnet gloves and midriff t shirts that say Frankie says relax on them. Our friends are excited about this and to me this means I need new friends. Because at 930 I want to be in bed or watching outlander on the starz network with a glass of wine. My mother has accused me of being boring. That's fine. I will own that. I just won't own a big neon bow on my teased out hair. Grrr...

3 we just came back from Annabelle's open house where we got to know her teacher a little more. She is amazing. We really lucked out in getting her. She gave us homework. To write am essay about our daughter. Each of us has to do it. Hieu has to write something. Cue run on sentences and prepositional phrases. For him. For me the use of the word "and" to start a sentence and typos. But you knew that already.... Elipses...

Mi gente

Today at church, when they asked if there were any guests or visitors, I noticed a lady waving like she a local celebrity in parade and I chuckled about it. After mass, Father Clint invited us all over to the West hall for a BBQ sandwich and fellowship. Free lunch after church? Hells yeah!

So when we went to the hall, I got my family their sandwiches and then I saw the lady and I went over to say hi. And as soon as I saw her smile, and heard her accent, I knew she was from San Antonio. She was turning 94 on August 27 and was so happy to be in Houston and with her family. Happy to be alive, happy to be a child of the God of love.

So I introduced her to the other San Antonian ex pat who is turning 40 on August 27th. And there we were, three San Antonians who somehow managed to find each other in the crowd after mass.

If you were to ask me to describe my hometown, I would say that San Antonio is a place where if you are standing in line for the port-o-potty at the battle of flowers parade, someone will say "here, mija," and give you toilet paper.

I think it was Dan Cook that said if you lived in San Antonio for 6 months, you would never leave, but somehow, for some reason, that I can't really remember any more, we did.

You get to love Houston, you really do. It's green, it's beautiful and there is so much to do and see and eat. You get to know and love your neighborhood and your friends, and some days, it even feels like a small town. But you have these moments, when things are very clear, when you see what you are missing, and it is more than a raspa in front of the Alamo on a hot day--it is the spirit, the heart, el corazon. It is almost ineffable.

Almost.

It is the people, mi gente, that make it a place you never leave.

Scrapbook of a meal and a sewing project, and a friend and summer desserts

What Tallulah thinks of a dinner of broiled salmon, Carmelized zucchini, and wild rice with kale, with our customary glass of water to drink.....

"The only thing I like about this dinner is the water."


Tallulah on sewing:
Mom: Annabelle come here. I need your help. I am confused about what the lining is (Annabelle and my mom are working on Barbie sleeping bags for her first sleepover this upcoming Friday). Aren't we confused Tallulah?

Tallulah ( quietly cutting a piece of scrap fabric). Yes. Well, you guys are confused, I'm not.

Tallulah's new friend Penelope:

"Where is my friend. You know, pinnochio?"

Tallulah on frozen treats:

"Can I have a popsy-ble?"

Three and a half is a delightful age.

If I could only choose one picture to tell how much fun we had yesterday....

It would be this one

The following is a true story, although I wish it wasn't....

Yesterday, I got in the car and I needed to get my spare house keys out to get into the house. And they weren't there. And they are always there. And since some one recently broke into my car, and since I had them the day before, and since my car was open for a long stretch of time when I was unloading everything from our all day pool trip, and since I suffer from an occasional case of what I consider to be healthy paranoia, I had a vision of the girls being kidnapped and sold into white slavery as I slept, so I decided to change the locks. I called my neighbor to do it, he came over, took them off, I dashed to lowes to get new ones, but before I did, I let the chickens out.

I tried to be super cool about it to Annabelle, but the house was open and I was envisioning it being raided as we tried to find the right locks. Annabelle said, " why are we hurrying, mama?" So we can go home and have fun.

Yeah, right. If fun involves my neighbor trying to change the locks while almost being eaten by my lab, who turns into an attack dog when she is around someone she doesn't know, that is what we had. So I let the dog out.

The thing is, the dog turns into a chicken eating shark when the chickens are out and I realized that about 2 minutes after she had been out. So I ran to get her, but it was too late, one chicken was dead and in the dog's hiding place, the rest were hiding in the coop.

I put the dog inside, and am feeling absolutely horrible when my other neighbor stopped by. She brought me a Starbucks and her daughter and son ran upstairs to play with Annabelle.

So to recap, inside I have a crazed chicken eating barking dog who is trying to eat one neighbor who is fixing my locks. My fairy godmother neighbor whose house is always clean and whose life is always perfect who has stopped for a visit and three kids upstairs. (T was mercifully at school) and a dead chicken in the yard. And this was the time when the little girls decided to crack open the science kit and make potions, and not read the instructions, because one, they can't and two, if they could they would have seen that the toy required "adult supervision." I hear "mom, it's overflowing!!!" I run upstairs to find that test tubes are over flowing with purple foamy water and a very bad
smell.

And I feel like I might be raped murdered by a possible bmv person.

This was the time I felt I should tell h everything that was going on. Calf rope. I was done.

Now text or call? How about both? During lunch. His busy time.

Awesome. Day.

Where kinder left us, kick off to the summer of fun 2014

We just finished our first week of summer. We went to the beach. We went to the art museum. We stayed home. We did things around the house. We decompressed.

Kindergarten had left our entire house exhausted. Especially it's victim. I sent them in the beginning of the year, a happy go lucky child, excited about school, and along about December, I stated to get complaints about going to school, by the second to the last say she was screaming," I can't go, not even one more day! ". Part of this, was probably my fault. She was in a lot of extra stuff this spring, but in my defense, the extra stuff is so much more fun than learning fractions, nouns and verbs and synonyms. Every night we were encouraged but not required to read an ar book, do I-station and dreambox, practice our spelling words, work on math facts, and do our homework. Things I didn't learn about in kindergarten and a workload I didn't have until high school. Now ask me if she can add? No, not really, but that didn't stop them. I don't really blame her teacher, I think it is just the culture of the school, which is well regarded in Houston. We are not zoned to it, but it is a school for gifted and talented kids, and i nought she would do better there than the Montessori magnet by out house. I think on the whole, she thrived there, she didn't really care about what they were learning. She could keep up just fine and she loved her teacher and her friends.

But by the end of the year her tantrums outnumbered her little sister's. I think h summed it up best when he said, "she has gone to twice as much school as we did at this age, but she is at the same maturity level we were." And it it crazy. They talk about the "race to nowhere" but clearly, they want us to go somewhere. And then there are all the parties and field day and teacher appreciation and recitals and then to top it offTallulah crashed into the coffee table and we had ER drama.

We were all just done.

So now we are doing our fun things. And a thing she complains about but is freakishly good at (swim team).

We will have more beach trips

We are looking forward to visiting our aunt in michigan.

And we are going to chill. I explained to her what camps are--which is what upper middlish people do to their kids in the summer, all in the name of enrichment. "No mama, I just want to be with you every day."

Yes, I am that lucky.

No bucket list to check off this year. We are just going to enjoy every day.

Montesorri, baby?

"You love your children. And God makes them different, so you love them even more." My sister in law told me this once.

My current thoughts on this are, "hell yeah he does."

Tallulah gets herself up in the morning. She takes off her diaper and puts it in the trash. She gets herself dressed down to shoes. She does all of this without being told.

When I was sick, she went to the pantry and got food for her and her sister.

Yesterday, I found her drinking milk from the jug. She had literally moved a chair to the refrigerator, got out the milk, and had herself a swig. "I was tuwsty."

We have this plate, and it has a huge crack on it. It is the plate that Annabelle hated when she was three. And if it was put in her place for dinner she would scream and cry and have a tantrum about it. The other night, I set it at Tallulah's place. I was curious to see if she would hate it too, especially since she is so neat about things and eschews cracks, dirt and imperfections in general. Turns out, she didn't like it either. But instead of screaming and crying about it, she just moved it to my spot. Problem solved.

She knows how to change the tv channel, dial the phone, look at pictures on our phones, and do crazy stuff with the iPad. All self taught. Her sister still struggles with knowing which is the on button on the remote. Can you say Luddite?

She wants to do everything for herself and by herself. So, what do I do with this child? Who is so competent and capable, but still gets concepts like forward and backward confused, let alone knowing all the different types of dinosaurs and whether they were theropods or sauropods--things that Annabelle had mastered at this age.

Do I send her to the Montessori school down the street, which would totally be a good fit for her, when her time comes for kinder?

Probably not. Because being in two different PTAs would kill me.

The whistle

For reasons that no one will ever really be able to understand, yesterday, while at Southland Hardware, dumb dumb, aka hyphen, decided to buy the girls whistles. Coach style whistles.

Annabelle got hers last night, and in her way of playing, she began to try and whistle songs and blow on it in different ways trying to make different sounds, asking us what each one sounded like. She tied a string around it and put it in the "art studio," for later use.

Tallulah got hers today.

And in her way of playing, she blows it. She blows it loud and proud.

She blows it in the van. She blows it inside the house. At the table. May I just say, your ears have never really experienced pain until you are sitting in a minivan where a three year old is blowing a whistle.

She keeps it in her purse, along with a magnifying glass, a pretend phone(which, she informs me, has games on it, unlike mine), a treasured pair of clip on earrings, a broken tiara that is more like a headband, and various chapsticks. Tallulah is nothing if not prepared.

She takes the purse with her everywhere, and sleeps with it, along with 25 stuffed animals. So it was not entirely unexpected, but still totally annoying, when tonight, after calling for me about 5 times, I heard the whistle.

My first thought: ummm, no. My second thought: the person who created this problem needs to fix it.

"Hieu..."

He was in the bathroom and not responding.

She blew it about 3 more times, each time louder and I was starting to get really hacked, especially since the girls share a room and Annabelle was asleep.

"Hieu, go deal with that."

"Dude, she is calling you not me, we both know that." He said this with goofy half smile he gets when he knows he has done wrong.

I went in the room. She just wanted to tell me goodnight. And she wanted me to hustle up.

Greetings and thoughts

Hello. It's been a while. I've been a restaurant widow, doing everything by myself and waiting for my husband to come home to keep him company and so I am exhausted with no time for coherent thoughts, let alone put them to iPad, as it were. But last night h pissed me off royally by saying that one of his wine glasses that I had left on the drying board was dirty, when I had washed it and then he proceeded to spend ten minutes washing it and I thought " if this dumb dumb thinks I have 10 minutes to wash his f ing glass...." and was filled with a murderous rage for about 5 minutes, until I had a bless his little heart moment and moved on. But consequently, I don't feel like waiting up for him so I am writing instead.

We have discovered the Cosby show. I have rediscovered it. And I makes me feel nostalgic and it makes the girls happy. They squeal with delight and Annabelle says "oh theo!" Or "Rudy is so cute!" It makes me sad too. Sad because there is no show like this on tv anymore. Sad because of the way adults currently interact with their children-- which is to say that they don't-- and you can really see this if you watch one episode of this show. Of course, it is a fictional show, but it was real in some ways, like a time capsule of what we did when we were at our very best.

And it makes me sad that I didn't marry cliff. Cliff who is so romantic and loving. Who feeds Claire pears, dances in the living room with her and makes their kids laugh. Sad that my husband gets annoyed with the way I wash dishes.

I didn't marry cliff. I married h. Who just came home after working crazy hours and brought me my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant.

Maybe we all get to dance off the stage into the sunset. Maybe we all get our own kind of happy.

Disturbing new trend amoung a certain type of sahm

I will call it: wearing really expensive workout clothes to places other than the gym.

Part one: really expensive--

I get all these catalogs, I guess the catalog gods don't realize that I don't exercise as much as I used to, so I get them, and I peruse them. They have titles like athleta, title nine and sweaty Betty. And there is a store called lululemon. And they sell work out clothes. Stuff you are going to sweat in and stink up. And they sell them for ridiculous prices. Like 90 bucks for a pair of pants. Now, they are cute, they are very cute, and I am well trained enough by our consumer culture to want to look cute when I go to they gym, but I cannot justify spending that kind of money on spandex pants -- not even getting to the top and bra and brightly colored shoes. And then there is the little cover up for after you are done working out. You could easily drop 300 on a workout outfit. That will stink. Because it will get ass sweat on it.

Part two: to places other than the gym

Now, I go to the y and most people there are sensibly dressed in target gear or old t shirts. Even though my neighborhood is becoming very fancy, the y is decidedly old school, but I see these women around town. Like at central market or whole foods or some other such place, like the mall or at school. And they are wearing gym clothes. So I wonder, do they not have ass sweat? Because after I work out, unless I am going to krogers or the car wash, I go home and clean up. Do they know a store that sells better deodorant? Like I get my stuff at target, and my deodorant too, but since they go to lululemon, is there some correlating deodorant place? That sells 25 dollar organic deodorant?

Like what kind of class are they taking in these outfits? Do they feel like they workout better? Or do they just feel better because they look cute and it somehow takes out the drudgery of working out out of the work out? Because this, I understand.

These are the things I was wondering as I went into an athleta store today, looking for workout pants, but seeing the price tag, I couldn't do it. H works too hard and I love him too much. And my ass is too big and sweaty.

But there was a lady there shopping. She was decked out from head to toe in lululemon (which, for the record, I think is a dumb name) and shopping in athleta, so I guess they have no brand loyalty. They are just loyal to the look. Leggings, top and hoodie with bright shoes. She was pushing a baby.

I was discussing this phenomenon with my sister, who has also noticed it. Her issue: you can see the whole ass. The whole thing, and it leaves nothing to the imagination.

"Just give me some old middle school gym shorts," She said. "Hell, just give me some coach shorts," I said. Either that or the willpower to stop drinking Soda. I'll take that too.

A canine conundrum

I am cleaning up after supper and I hear Tallulah yelling (in her throaty old black lady voice that she gets when she is real mad) " I told you no! I don't like it when you do that!!!" I discounted it for a second because the girls have been bickering basically all day, but then my mom radar said " wait a minute, Annabelle is in some other part of the house, who is she yelling at? " I stuck my head out of the kitchen to find that she has the dog in a headlock and is applying pressure.

Of course there were stop-that-this-instants and what-in-the-Sam-Hill-do-you-think-you're-doings? I briefly wondered if she needed counseling and was perhaps sociopathic, but then took comfort in the fact that very few seriel killers are women. Turns out the dog had "thumped me with her tail and I don't like it she she does that!" The dog, to her credit, was taking it all in stride looking just slightly annoyed, because she is essentially a good dog, despite the fact that yesterday, she somehow reached up onto the kitchen table and got a bag of pecan halves my mother had given me and ate most of them and the bag they were in...but I digress.

We finished cleaning, weeded the kitchen garden(can you imagine, dear reader, lettuces and herbs and flowers in a very cottage pottager style? Me too. But that is not at all what it looks like), cleaned up outside, came in got baths, did teeth and nails and hair and cleaned up their room a bit and read books and then I left them in their room with a few books to look at, so I could play on Facebook. Then, after a few minutes, Annabelle came out to tell me she was tired. So I went in to lie down with her ( yes, I am the bad mom that has to lie with her kids for a few minutes to get them to sleep--you wanna make something of it?? Meet me out back). Tallulah though still wanted to look at books. And of course wanted the light on and was prepared to scream and have a fit over it, as she has been prepared to do and has done all day long. So I told her to go to the living room and look at them out there.

"But, dere no one dere. Dat living room is scary and I want to say heaw."

"Well, then you need to be quiet and have the light off. Or you can go in the living room. You won't be by yourself. The dog is out there."

"Oh? De dowg out dere? Oh. Okay, I go be wid hehwah. She likes books."

And off she went. Happy as a clam, reading books to her best bud. Hopefully this time there would be no tail wacking.

So I made the mistake of buying "let it go" on iTunes today....

It is from the movie Frozen, which is awesome because in the end the true love ends up being sister love, which pretty much sums up life as far as I am concerned.

But after listening to it 32 times today, I was kind of sick of it, so I scrolled to something else on my kid friendly play list(kids friendly meaning no curse words not necessarily kid music) and landed on angel flying too close to the ground which is my favorite willie Nelson song (although how could you possibly choose?).

Then I hear this.
A( in an extreme whine) I want frozen

Me: we are taking a break from frozen

A: ok, but I want to listen to something like frozen

Me: but this is like frozen (In the sense that it is music)

A: no I want it to sound like Ana or Elsa.

Me: he does

A: no he doesn't

A: ok pretend that he does...

Then we all got quiet, which is the calm numbing effect that is willie Nelson, and soaked all that beautiful nasal twang and chromatic scales in and dethawed from our frozen trance.

How I spent the last day of my thirties..

1. I took care of smallish children and animals, keeping them fed and alive.

Literally. Like Tallulah walked out the front door and I heard it with my mom ears from the other side of the house. And then for reasons unknown to anyone but herself, I saw Annabelle in the backyard, in her swimsuit with bungee cords belted around her waist and then stretched to the door of the chicken coop. She was trying to move the coop like she was an ox and damn near tore the door off. Meanwhile, the chicken eating dog is standing next to the coop salivating. Sometimes it is hard for me not to say "what in the hell are you doing???" So I just opted for the tried and true "stop that this instant you're going to hurt yourself and the dog is going to eat all those chickens."

2. Talked to my parents on the phone and heard how my dad didn't put the car in park "ay I don't know what I am going to do with him, and I say Keen, what are you doing, you are going to kill us, but does he listen? no'mbre. I mean my illness was physical, but this? How do I fix this?" Later on when I got out of my car, I couldn't turn it off because I forgot to put it in park, and when I told her this " ay, see? You get it from him and you are not even old. Pay attention mija you have my grandchildren in that car."

3. I bullied people perhaps unnecessarily. The city is replacing a sewer line and in doing so had to take down a section of my very nice fence that we bought and had installed by a fence professional. The guy was getting out the claw end of his hammer when I stopped him in garbled Spanish, asked to talk to his boss and then proceeded to tell his boss something like this, " let me tell you something, you may think in your life you have seen pissed off, but let me assure you, you have never seen pissed off until you have seen me pissed off" etc. I am not exactly proud of that, but it was the city and they were about to destroy my fence, and now I have become they reigning crazy neighborhood fence lady, protector of the fence, a title previously held by a Miss Rita Hartman, my back neighbor, but one that I now wear with honor and understand because fences are expensive.

4. I waited until the last minute to do my cles and heard something that sounded like this:" and basically puts the onus on the parties whereby that particular issue subject to the board.... That recommendation becomes prima facie evidence..." God I wish I had a Busch lite and a car full of hungover people heading to the Guadalupe instead.

5. I hung out with my college friend. We went to Lubys for lunch.

6. Then I made my own birthday cake 'cause lord knows h wasn't going to do it and while I was at it I decided to make him some egg salad since we have about a million eggs and he was been working really late lately.

But oddly enough, he had been craving it made himself some at work....weird...

I think it all pretty much sums up the decade.

Sigh...

Annabelle is going to be six in a week and a few days and today I found myself thinking of something that hadn't really crossed my mind in these past 6 years, until today.

When we brought her home, we went through all the typical new parent stuff, but one thing we didn't realize was how much stuff we were going to get. I am not talking about hospital freebies-- I am talking about gift baskets and flowers. We probably brought home 5 baskets from the hospital and then they just kept arriving. Almost every day for about two weeks the doorbell would ring and there was something. Lou malnati's pizza from Chicago from one of Hyphens co workers, flowers from his office, flowers for my mom, a huge gift basket with food from his meat supplier, another basket from his boss's old partner, it went on and on and it was a wonderful outpouring of love--for Hyphen.

My coworkers came to see me, which is more personal and brought me food, which was wonderful and very appreciated. But as public servants, we didn't really do flowers.

Then one day the doorbell rang and there were some flowers for me. A bouquet that was in a ceramic baby bootie. It looked exactly like the one my mom got when I was born, that she had kept all these years and had given to Annabelle at the hospital, filled with flowers, and we both commented on it. "Now you have one so your next baby can have one too and then they will each have one to give to their little girls." My mom--always thinking ahead. I was just thrilled, because I really do love flowers.

The sender?

Judge Fred Edwards.

I am not sure if I ever wrote him a thank you note.

Thank you, judge. The next one's on me.

Hitting on senior citizens at bells my own cleaners, or in other words,today was Wednesday...

While I was dropping off H's dry cleaning this morning, I ran into an older gentleman. He was wearing wool pants, a sweater vest and a wool sports coat and the only way he could have looked more like Sean Connery was if he had a wool cap on. So I decided to hit on him...

"You look very dapper today."

And then he hit back,

"I am 86 years old and when a young beautiful woman tells me I look good, it makes my day."

"And since I am 40 (practically) when someone tells me I am young it makes my day."

" you are young, and beautiful."

Laughter and goodbyes and have a nice days. Then he jauntily got in his caddy and I hopped in my minivan.

And I remain firm in my belief that compliments and Christmas cards are the grease that make the world go round.

Hiding places and cruel booby traps

Tonight I heard some unorthodox crunching and munching and saw that the dog was eating a Halloween size pack of Reeses pieces, wrapper included, of course.... I had found this extra bag of candy the other day and I needed a piece thought they might be a good source for Annabelle's Friday lunch treat. (the only day I put dessert in her lunch). But somehow naughty children discovered it and were sneaking candy here and there. I really have no problem with a certain amount of naughtiness in fact, i think it is healthy. But, when I heard the dog munching on another piece and scolded the girls, I noticed that they seemed unconcerned with their candies' disappearance. They were far too interested in watching a nature show with their dad and this could only mean one thing-- there was a stockpile of which I was unaware. When the dog ate another candy plus wrapper I made them 'fess up. It was in the bookshelf. So I promptly disposed of it and when Annabelle went to get another piece and I told her I threw it all way, the look on her face told me there was another cache in the house. I said as much and all three of them burst out laughing. H said he was sworn to secrecy and had known about the stash for several days. They ate a few more pieces and I went to the pantry. To the source of the naughtiness. I hid the candy up high, I mean she might still need some for her lunch, and then I filled the bag with dried cranberries.

Take that you little shits....

Red light ahead

I was always annoyed when adults would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I never ask kids that. But when you are the parent to an adorable 5 year old and the world is her oyster, your crazy mom mind sometimes wonders what she will end up doing. She is so athletic, sometimes I think she will be in the Olympics or a ballet dancer. She is so creative about things and likes to sings and make up her own songs, so maybe a lyricist or a performer of some sort. Or just an artist. We were at the mfah the other day and she commented that when we got home she was going to draw something so they could "have one of mine." She also has such a mechanical mind she likes to "play Legos" and rinky tinks(what we call tinker toys.) So maybe and engineer or architect. She likes to build forts and the other day tied her scooter onto her bike and then onto her ez roller and turned the entire contraption into Santa's sleigh with reindeer--she always manages to find a new way to play with a toy, something its creator would never have imagined , so maybe an inventor. She is such a nature girl and always has been, even as a baby if she was fussy we just took her outside and she would stop crying, so maybe a park ranger or a biologist. Or maybe something with animals. She was actually teaching our old dog a new trick the other day--how to climb the stairs, which Bella cannot do because she is stupid, but she tries to because Annabelle was coaxing her with goldfish and she loves Annabelle and loves goldfish. And let's not forget when she was three and had an obsession with all things dentistry.

But it was the other day that she said something that made me think in a totally new direction for her career choice, something I never would have considered for her in a million years. We play this game where we try to get an "express" while we are driving, which is to say no red lights. We really like to play it as we are heading down shepherd, because there are a million lights and it is a challenge. We have made a few rules, If the light is red and you slow down but don't have to stop before it turns green, it counts as green. Turning right on red is the same as a green light. Whatever. But then I hear this one:"mom, what if you are almost at a red light, and are slowing down and then it turns green but the person at the front of the line is texting and not paying attention (where would she get that idea?) and they kind of waste the light and then you have to stop? It's not really your fault but you have stopped. What does that count as?"

"Hmmm. That is a slippery slope, my lambkin a slippery slope..."

Resolute

I find lists very comforting and think of things in terms of lists, and if i do just one thing on this list it will be a success. and if i don't, its just a list. So here it goes, better late than never....

1. Spiritual

A. Go to Confession, which I view as optional but suspect is perhaps more than that...
B. read some spiritual book
C. Read bible more
D. Pray more

2. Home keeping
A. Organize every room
B. errands just once a week
C. Finish painting girls room and hang letters and make hooks
D. Laundry every day, fold and PUT AWAY
E. laundry room clean
F. Car not trash can on wheels
G. Organize pictures and make albums.
F. Be one of those people.

3. Children
A. Nourish and cherish
B. play more
C. Yell less
D. Eliminate the word "hurry"


4. Health
A. Lose 20 lbs
B. exercise 3 times a week/ 45 minutes of cardio
C. Juice and cleanse
D. Vegetarian meals 2 times a week

Stewardship
A. Save more money
B. don't waste food

Me
A. Read more books
B. all of this other stuff
C. Take more pictures

Husband
A. The goals for my husband numerous and multifaceted but they are my goals for him--what I perceive he should do, not his goals, because I doubt he has any because he thinks his shit doesn't stink. Like, that is literal, he actually thinks that, which is why he offers to share the bathroom with me while I brush my teeth-- so maybe my goal is to just live my life in a way that inspires him and makes his life a little easier. And I doubt I need to tell him what he needs to do, because he knows....

Blog
Maybe I will write more and put some more pictures up.

Happy new year from castroville Texas

Help me. My mother is telling me how, since its New Year's Day, she has organized her underwear drawer, and she is telling me in great detail. The panties she got from "queen Victoria, you know that store..." Then my dad cuts in, "you mean queen latifah." Now she is telling me her New Year's resolutions, which include "be more tolerant of your dad." This is on her list every year and also what she does for lent. I suggested cussing less, and her reply was "I don't consider that to be a detriment." Then she ordered my dad to fetch her something and added please as an afterthought. "See? I am doing good," she points out, proudly.

Well, at least she's made some, which is better than me.