Waiting for Superman

I like the way....

...my husband sings songs when he thinks no one is listening.... and then gives me a shy dimpled smile when I he finds out I am.
....my oldest sticks her tongue in her cheek in slight smile when she strikes someone out. Pleased with herself and trying not to show it.
....my middle skips everywhere.
...my little says "Taylor Smift"
....my pile of fun keeps growing bigger when I find more things I want to do in this world.
....I accidentally walk into great deals. like a 40 dollar dress for $4.49/ hello christmas gifts.
....my little candle smells.
.....I can eat a whole bag of m and m's and not feel guilty.
....banana chocolate chip pancakes taste
....I find the funniest things to laugh at and don't really care.
....my laundry is done...since my precious husband does it all

"The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings."
Eric Hoffer

Things to remember

"Raising a child who possesses high other-regard simply requires that parents do what our great-grandparents did. They put their marriages first, not their kids. They gave their children all that they truly needed and very little of what they simply wanted. They assigned daily chores from age three on. They expected their children to always do their best, in whatever setting. Their beds were for adults only. They rarely helped their kids with their homework. They did not serve them individualized dinners. Family came first, not after-school activities. And so on. This parenting paradigm is as workable today as it was when I was a child"

John Rosemond

I am such a firm believer in this. I cannot handle entitlement by parents and by kids. Raising a world of brats. You have kids not being potty trained until they are 3 or four because "they're not ready." Well... they're kids. It's not a choice and since when does a kid get to make grown up choices and decide what's good for themselves? Kids who have excuses for not doing homework. PARENTAL given excuses. Kids have excuses for hitting other kids. Really, if your kid is old enough to walk, talk, eat, and play, they are old enough to share and be nice. End of story. So many parents complain about how their kids won't. WHATTTTTT?!?!?!?!

They won't what? THey won't eat dinner? Uh then you starve. There is no "we only have 8 choices because that's all you eat". Sorry Junior, your choice today is TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT. And they won't wear certain things? Well my daughter learned real quick that we wear what's appropriate. So if it's rainy you don't wear a bathing suit. It's not a choice. Just like riding in a car seat is not a choice. Throwing a fit will get you nothing. Wearing shoes to the store is not a choice. Being "good" is expected and not rewarded with piles of toys. In my house you behave or you will find a very sad option to not behaving. There is no toy buying for potty training. Above and beyond achievement is recognized and rewarded, being a good person is expected. My house, my very well behaved children. I may not be the norm when it comes to parenting today, but guess what, my children will not thank me at 25 that I acknowledge their feelings when they were 2 versus who they would be their whole lives long.

Even today, at my daughter's class, a parent went up to the teacher and asked if their daughter could be given more challenging work. Because she is so smart and needs to be challenged. Um.... these guys are FOUR. And they are there for 3 hours, twice a week. How about, as a parent, you buy your kid a big fat book of kindergarten readiness and on the other 5 days of the week, YOU challenge them. We are our kids teachers first. I am responsible for my kids. And what they know. Their manners, their language, their skills. Why is it okay to let your child run amuck and then turn them over to a school and expect the school to instill values and manners and lesson of society that you should have been all along? Because people are entitled to do as they please and that is why our nation will soon be governed by brats.

Off my soapbox.

Gymboree must hate me

If you google Gymboree listens, chances are, somewhere on the first few pages, you'll get me. And my posts on my experiences at Gymboree. And when I wrote my post, from MY point of view, on MY experience, I never would have imagined the outrage from some employees. You would have thought I personally walked into their store, ripped clothing from hangers, chewed on sales tags and toilet papered their car and called their grandma an asshat or something. Truth is, I had one.... (or more) shitty experience there. I can point you to a message board where tons of ladies talk about the crappy customer service they had, if they really want to get it all out. Sorry Gymbo, but the bad customer service I had did not fall on deaf ears. Now on the flip side, the sweetest lady in a Kentucky mall needs some recognition. I did not buy anything, so I can't sing her praises to the proper people, but she was real nice. So there you go.

Which now this reminds me that people will google and then they read, so I have other things to write about. And to the person who googled "fart sniffer" and got me.... that made me giggle.

Across the U.S.

We decided this summer to pack the car and travel for a 2 week period across the country, seeing the United States and visiting family. The husband had tons of vacation time, and the kids were out of school, so we hit the road. People thought we were crazy, spending that much time in the car with kids. The thing is, why wouldn't we do it? Kids are adaptable. Riding in the car is not the most fun thing to do especially for over 5000 miles, but what we see and where we go is. My kids comfort level is not my main concern. Showing them about life is. So we did it.

The kids were mesmerized by the lights of Las Vegas, the sun rising over the Utah mountains. They complained of their ears popping in Colorado's altitude and we enjoyed the sweetest little visit with my grandparents who practically live in the orange and pink rocks of Garden of the Gods. The girls made green chile and ate as many ice cream cones as their tummies could handle, while watching the deer wander the yard behind them. All my childhood memories flooded back to sitting in the same spot, smelling the marigolds.

From there, we experienced the corn, sunflowers and Mother nature even tossed a mini tornado from the sky for us in Kansas. Missouri had the largest bugs, the most traffic and the big arch. The girls wanted nothing to do with going inside it, but sweated like crazy at 8 in the morning as we checked it out. We made a wrong turn in Illinois, where they marveled at little towns. Indiana was just a pass thru and then into Ohio. I wondered what they would remember, and what they thought. Oldielocks remembered the most, even the way to get to Grandma's house. We visited our old house, which didn't feel the least like it was ever ours. Oldielocks visited her old school and we all laughed at the changes and how some things never change. It was hot, and you would have thought it was the end of the world. Nobody goes outside in the summer and nobody goes outside in the winter. My kids didn't mind the heat and we spent many hours in the garden eating tomatoes, walking the streets and just enjoying.

Off to Michigan we went, to a small little town for a visit with the husbands grandfather. We spent time with an old game of lawn jarts, and exploring the run down property next door. We headed to the husbands little hometown and the girls played in the river he once played in too.

Kentucky has the nicest people you will ever meet. So sweet and just plain kind. I want to bottle up some Kentuckians and spread them around the U.S. Tennessee was beautiful and we stopped to see Elvis but it was Elvis week and well, crowded. We spent the night in Mississippi, which put on a heat lightning show just for us.

Louisiana always has so much to explore. We headed down to New Orleans and hung out on St. Charles drinking soda and sweating. But the houses always make me smile and the kids love spotting beads in all the silly little places. It rained a few days while we were there, so when it rains, we go shopping. We spent a day tubing and the kids absolutely loved it.

Texas was long, hot and dusty. San Antonio was intriguing, and we all went to the Alamo. And the Riverwalk. And Coyote Ugly Saloon. I am all about equal opportunity.

New Mexico was the land of my people. We woke up and stopped to grab some green chiles. We visited the adobes with bright blue doors. And even in Wal Mart I saw the faces that warm me, similiar characteristics to my own family.

Arizona was long. And of course hot. We stopped and visited with the cactus while our sandals melted in the asphalt.

The ride was longest back into California. And dirty and I think we were just done. But it was so worth it. We had fun, as our family of five. And they got to see what a big world there is out there, but mostly and most importantly I hope they learned that people matter. I have always strived to make people matter. Sure we could have spent the money on things. We could have made excuses and just said it wasn't important as other things are. But that's just not true. My kids will always learn people first.

Tales of a two-toned Mama

My great grandparents, or even my grandparents, or even my parents have some American Indian blood running through them. Which can be a fabulous trait because my Indian half beats up and scalps my European half and I end up with bronze skin, every summer. Or since I live in the Golden state, all the time. When I was young and vain, I would march my bikini clad, golden skin self to the beach every chance I could get and know that I was looking every bit like a California Girl. Now I am old and vain, I find about 7000 hurdles in my way and I'm kind of upset about it.

I had 3 kids. And worked hard to get all that stupid baby weight off. And I can call it stupid baby weight because seriously, what.the.hell Mother Nature?!?!?! I don't see Cows or Dogs or Monkeys laying around with their offspring all grown and eaten or whatever lamenting about their bodies. Nope, even cows bounce back pretty nicely. So why human moms, can't we catch a break? However I do find justice in the fact that I have seen some gnarly feed bags dangling of animals so at least that's one thing Mother Nature decided all females would get.

So I sweated my ass off, literally to get rid of my butt and my butt front. If you have ever wondered what a vertical c-section scar does to your body, it ain't pretty. It ends up looking like a butt in the middle of your abs.... and not a toned butt, but a saggy, wrinkly nasty butt. So Jillian Michaels and I worked out every day to say sayonara to the butt front.

My troubles should be over right? I mean, I'm fit, toned......
and two different shades of color.


I look like I am wearing a flesh color wrestling unitard.

Look at my feet.
Well don't look at the second toe bigger than the big toe.
Just check out the tan lines.


See the tan lines? It's my own suggestive way of letting the world know that there is more like that, just up higher. Oo baby. From mid thigh to my boobs. Looking like a two toned buick. From 1972.
Look. I have frog feet. Ok not really. That looks gross. What's really gross is the shadow of my hair? Is that a horn?

I took the kids to the pool. And got undressed and bared all of my checkerboard self to the moms of the world. I swear every mom was wondering why I look like I lay out in a wet suit. Or why I was farmer leg tanning it. Or if I told anyone I was half Pocahontas Sacagawaea, they would stare at me and nod in agreement. And probably ask if I was actually 3/4, staring directly at my white butt front papoose hanging around my middle.

Sunless tanner, come to momma.

Mean streets of the S.D. suburbs

Where I live, it tends to be quiet. As in the biggest deal of the day is some young hooligans making out on the baseball bleachers or someone breaking a nail in the door of their jetta. Boring times, but that's all right with me. I'm a mile down the road the other day and well.......

I'm sitting at the light. Minding my own Cali driver business... which translates to I was talking to my three year old, playing with my ipod and chewing gum. I look to my right and see a seriously fragile old man standing on the street corner. With a skull cap and cane. Looking a little eerily like the Geezer bandit. (google it, San Diego's oldest robbing banks) He is talking to himself and waving his cane. But life is dandy, the sun is shining, and hey if you are 98 and can bust it without breaking a hip, well then go ahead and get down.

He's crossing and something across the street catches my eye. A middle age woman, wearing a sweater under a sundress, pulling an empty granny shopping cart. The eye catching part was the Laura Ingalls. Straight off the prairie and standing on the street corner. The Street Bird Ingalls starts dancing..... and lifting her dress.

My jaw drops down and I am searching left, right, front, back for the hidden camera show. I mean, Ashton was trying to punk me or something. She raises her dress to reveal a lime green retro one piece swim suit. And is twirling around. In her bonnet.

She stops. And does it again. And stops. And does it again. And by this time I am so used to the flash of green, that I almost miss my light turning green. I drive off, when I see a lady pushing a big dog in a graco stroller.....seriously..... where were the cameras because that corner funny business HAD to have been a show.... I hope.

Schools Out for Summerrrrrrr

Last day of school.

Always bittersweet. My Middle ending second grade. My Oldielocks ending 4th grade.

I always enjoy having them with me for the summer. I really do. I remember when Oldielocks was about to enter kindergarten and I though that I would die. The world would stop and everything would cease to exist as I knew it if I had to march her 5 year old self to school every day and leave her there. All day. I cried almost the entire month of August. And the first day was horrible. And by the second I noticed the world hadn't stopped. And by day 5 it was Saturday and I was thinking about when she would go back.

My kids fight. Down and dirty. Loud and screechy. They are girls in every term of VOCAL. So hell-to-the-yes I have moments.. okay... days..... where I wish I could drop them off at school and laugh manically "see ya Suckas!" This mama ain't gonna lie. But I truly enjoy my babies.

So I pulled out the rainbow cake. This Cake. The one that tried to make me bow to that damn Martha Stewart, wearing a cloak of failure. This year, I told that cake to kick rocks, that THIS WAS GOING TO BE MY RAINBOW CAKE WINNER OF THE YEAR!!!


Until I realized that in my conceited oversight... I may have not bought enough frosting.



See Exhibit A? Nothing. White? um... not really.

Damn rainbow cake. So I did what I would normally do.


Told the rainbow cake to shut it's frosting begging mouth and spread the frosting thin. And what showed through on the outside, I threw a handful of little sprinkles on the side and pretended like it was supposed to be transparent frosting. I'm a good faker like that.

So goodbye 2009-2010 school year. Thank you for taking my little scared second grader and turning her into a confident sweet third grader. Thanks for taking my quiet 4th grader and turning her into a responsible amazing 5th grader.

And Rainbow Cake of 2011-----Bring it. I'll be ready for you.

Days of Strawberries..... and cake

One of these days, I will live in an old house with a rambling yard where I will grow a row or two of strawberries. And I will get my June Cleaver Pollyana self out there and happily pick them by the colander full. Complete with adorable apron.

But for now, I will pay the ghastly amount of $15 dollars a bucket to trudge in the fields with my little family and make some memories, goll darnit! At least we had sunny skies and ocean breezes. And the occasional plunge of my fingers into some moldy squishy strawberries and bugs.

We did come home and make this AMAZING cake. And by amazing I mean my stomach ached for hours afterwards after I stuffed it with this Paula Deen goodness.

Savannah Strawberry Tall Cake

Serves: 8
Cook Time: 20 Minutes

Ingredients:
1 box of white cake mix, baked in three 8” cake pans
3 quarts strawberries, stems removed and cut in half
1/3 cup sugar
Whipped Cream:
16 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
4 cups heavy cream

Directions:

Place cut strawberries and 1/3 cup sugar. Stir together and place in the refrigerator until ready to assemble cake.

Mix cake mix as directed and pour into three 8” prepared cake pans. Bake just until set and slightly golden (approximately 15-20 minutes).

When cake has cooled, place cream cheese, sugar and vanilla in the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with whisk attachment. Whisk at medium-high speed until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. Reduce speed to low and add heavy cream in slow stream. When almost fully combined, increase speed to medium-high and beat until mixture holds stiff peaks.

To assemble cake: Place one cake layer in a large bowl or on a pedestal. Line the outer edges with a decorative row of strawberry halves. Fill the middle with some of the strawberry mixture. Top with a layer of the whipped cream mixture. Repeat one more layer. For the third and final layer place last cake on the other two layers. Arrange strawberry halves decoratively around the edge. Top with the remaining strawberry mixture. Serve with any left over whipped cream you may have. Have your guests just dig in!

Life lessons

I feel like I've been climbing in mountains. Which is fine, a little mountain climbing never hurt anybody. There are people in my life recently that have made me question exactly what my role is, where I should be and what I should be doing. I've had forks in the road and the decision of what path to take. And I chose. I chose the harder way, the one with more rocks and obstacles. But I know that when I get to the top of this mountain, I will know it was the right way. I have been challenged, I have been cursed at, I have had things said to me that were meant to be so soul crushing. And I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't feel every single one of them. But I know that I walked on, with my head high and did not return the same favor.

It's this part of life that sucks. The part that makes you dig deep. Carefully choosing my words, my actions, all the while trying to guard my heart. But it is the journey I am meant to embark on, there will be a lesson in all of this. I'm waiting on what that is. And if all it is is the opportunity to stand tall and know that I believed in myself, then that is lesson enough.

PInk, green and chocolate girly happiness

This the latest creation in the quilts and baby creations. My friend is having a little girl, and her nursery is done in Pottery Barn Kids Penelope bedding. But really LOONNGGGGG before pink and brown became popular she LOVED pink and brown. And then she had a little boy and gave away any pink and brown. Lucky for her, she gets to have tons of pink and brown now. My own little girls have a lime green, white and pink room, so I of course love the color combo. And I really, really wanted to keep it for me.... but it is now sweet baby Claire's.


Front of Quilt



Back of Quilt




Matching Burp Cloths of course.....


Snuggle flannel and minky blanket, with her name and a lil' birdie

Amy Butler fabric and pink chenille



Snuggle Flannel and white minky with elephant applique



Janie and Jack sweater and cuteness


And...... the baby shower in a box, because I am a decorator like that. All matchy, so when you can count on happiness when you open the box.

Mother's Day

The most important thing she has learned over the years is that there was no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one.

~Jill Churchill

On being a Baloney

Today, in comes Baloney.

"Mommy..... 'member when I was black?"

"What?"

"When I was black, you 'memba that? I do."

"hmmm I don't know what you are talking about."


(insert long pause as I rack my brain as to what could she possibly be talking about)



"yes you do, when I was black and boring."

"When, Baloney? What are you talking about?"

"I'll show you."





And so she opened up the scrapbook to a page with this picture:


And now it makes all the sense in the world.

Boring = born, and I should have remembered that since all december long she would play with our nativity and talk about baby Jesus being boring. And clearly, being black, as you can see makes sense.

Thus is a moment in the life of being Baloney's mom.

Spring Break

It's spring break time.

So I made banana chocolate chip pancakes today. I love those things. So do the kiddos and surprisingly, the husband raved about them. And I thought they wouldn't be his style, since he's not an overly sweet breakfast kind of guy. We don't use syrup, just the bananas and choco chips in them are flavor enough.

They found a chocolate chip that melted into the shape of a heart. And i thought to myself, that yes, it truly is the little things.

I then took the girls to Justice, so Oldielocks could buy a gift for a friend and spend her own birthday gift cards. When we got to the register, I couldn't find one of her gift cards. It was a $20 dollar one. So I pitched in the extra 20, but then kicked myself for it. She didn't see bummed, or worried about the gift card. I mean shed a tear or something, kid. I was annoyed by her lack of caring/ responsibility.... or so it seemed. I was struggling with feelings of parent failure/she will grow up to be a beverly hills diva when she came to me with 20 dollars of her piggy bank money. Her own thoughts to make it right. Which made me smile/sad/glad/tired/proud/ all at the same time.

To which I started think about how parenting sucks. This stuff isn't easy. Too many people want it to be easy, so they let the kids make the adult choices. Because it's just easier that way. Not here, not today.

I know I want my girls to feel just like this when they mother their own children. If I let them grow up feeling that only their feelings matter, that life is always about them, then I will be doing them a big disservice. I want them to feel like crap when they do wrong. Even if it's on accident. Even if it wasn't intentional. I know I would feel like poo if I lost 20 bucks, so she should too. And she did. Just later than I would have and that's okay too.

Maybe tomorrow I will write about something more lighthearted, but today mothering has taken over.

Mean Girls

The husband is a softball coach. Of the 10 year old variety. Oldielocks has been playing for years and I think coaching fulfills the hubby's need to be Pete Rose.. or something like that.

Of course with any sports, there is politics. And holy cannoli there is some politics involved with this. Basically the hubby stood up for the coaches and mangers and became their voice for a certain situation.

(not trying to be all cryptic, but you never know when someone is googling hot dog poo and gets my blog and puts two and two together.)

Last night, a parent, who is also on the board, was talking trash. Straight up diarrhea of the badmouthin' trash. About my HUSBAND. I'm not one to get all mad... wait- who the lucky charms am I kidding- My mouth plays it fast and loose... when needed. But seriously, I wish I had her. I only heard the snarky comments. Which was enough for me to eye roll in her general direction. She is cackling with some other lady, and seriously she cackles. I would not lie about some cackling. I would probably laugh if I was annoyed with her cackle.

Does this broad really need for someone to remind her that not only is it inappropriate but just plain bad human behavior to speak disrespectfully of a member of their own organization, in a public setting? At least talk about him on the phone or in the bathroom. I guess I know what happens when short chunky mean girls grow up-

They grow up to be short, chunky, OLD mean girls.

Taking out my hoops and pulling back the hair. Mommas gonna go stand up for her man!!!

She's 10

I swear I blinked and she turned ten.

My Oldielocks.


Today she is ten. I fight blinking because I'm afraid I will blink again and she will be twenty. I don't want her to be twenty for at least forty more years. I like her being ten, and I liked her being nine. I've learned to embrace each age, instead of mourning the past ones. Because I've enjoyed every minute of her life. Even when she crapped in the tub at a relatives house. I think it turned me into a real mom.

She turned me into HER mom. She has met every milestone, ahead of time, with an ease and grace that astounds me. Who has a kid that walks at 7 months? Whose kid takes test on things she has never seen and aces it? Me. Mine. I'm that lucky. I tell her no and 99% of the time she listens. She's not perfect. I've sent her to bed early and to school in her pajamas.

I've also watched her blossom into this beauty that is such a perfect blend of her father and I. She has the common sense of me and the quiet emotion of him. She has his brown eyes and dimple, and my hands.

She is ten today, and we are celebrating. Celebrating the gift that I have been given that is her. I love that little girl!

annual WTF- do- they- wear- for- easter post

Easter revolves around these shoes....because they keep my little girl looking 3.... and since she typically looks like she is 5 and acts like she is 20, she needs every bit of 3 she can get.
Here's what I'm thinking....


MIDDLE:




OLDIELOCKS:

or the white dress with yellow sweater......




BALONEY:

This is my life......

My daughter just told me she puts stink bombs in her underwear.

She then stares at me with a blank face and says...

"What?"

I looked at her and said "What?" (I mean really, is that conversation starter?)

"Well, I'm like "what" and you're all like... frozen."

To which she makes a horrible grotesque face. As if she froze witnessing a horrifying incident while falling.

An apparently that's how I look, upon news such as stink bombs.

Before laughing hysterically.

And she's only 3.

The happy in my day

"We tend to seek happiness when happiness is actually a choice."

Today I chose:

to take delight in watching my little girl give her speech about Wales, and realized that my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. The best part was when I winked at her when it was over, she smiled that snaggly tooth grin and blinked both her eyes back at me. My Middle.

to listen to my Baloney chatter away in my back seat and enjoy just how very lucky that I am to have such a chatty girl. Not a day goes by that I don't laugh at that girl.

to watch my Oldest do her homework, easy peasy, no questions asked. Her ease and love of learning is a gift. To herself and to us. She is brilliant.

to be happy, and ignore when others say things that try to make me unhappy. Sometimes I think people are waiting for someone to make them happy, when really happiness is there all along. I need to remember this when it starts to suck me in.

to help the husband. He does so much for me, and simply just loves me, every day, all the time. It made me happy to help him. He is perfect.

I still wear hooker shoes

Years ago, when I first met my husband's mother, she commented on my choice of shoes. I was wearing a long skirt with a tank top, and we were going out. She took one look at my knee high black boots with a chunky heel and exclaimed,

"You are wearing streetwalker boots!!!"

She sounds like a pearl clutcher, but really, she's not. Nor is she from the farms of Amish town or the halls of a convent. Streetwalker? Really? Who says that? A hooker is a hooker is a hooker. Go ahead and say hooker boots. (to which most hookers would laugh, since they were more clubbin boots. I got game.) I should have told her to save the streetwalker business for someone that doesn't know that she shows off her cleavage. Always.

Anyways, I have given birth to 3 kids. And cared for several more. I have found grey hairs on my head and worn my pajamas to drop my kids off at school more times than I can count. I have worn fat mom pants, and driven a mom car. I scrapbook, and fold laundry and only get my hair done a few times a year. And nails. I work out sometimes and stuff my face with my kids leftovers the other days.

But if you open my closet, there they be...... hooker shoes. High heels galore, boots with heels. And when I put them on... I am every bit the hot momma that my husband met all those years ago. I will always have hooker shoes.

Boogers on a pillow

"Mom... I wiped my boogers on your pillow"

SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?

I'm not certain how to respond.. should I freak out? Should I get mad? Should I laugh? Should I say thank you? Should I throw the pillowcase away?

Instead I asked "why?"

"well, it's really yucky"

"what is? My pillow or your boogers?"

"my boogers"

"So then....Why would you wipe boogers on my pillow if it's yucky?"

'Well (enter big grin) it's okay. I'll just lay on it."




********************************************************************


I will look on the bright side.

At least it wasn't poop.

The End.

The Blind Side

Must. See.

I *heart* it. Completely.

I shall read the book.

Sometimes I wonder

This post has no pictures. You will thank me later.

Middle was stayed home from school today. We pulled up at drop off and she exclaims from the back seat "I don't think I feel very good." I glance back and besides the panic in her eyes, her lips have turned pale. This is classic Middle code that her body has betrayed her and somewhere in the day before she didn't eat enough and now is going to pay the price in form of vomiting and dry heaving. This has been her life cycle since she was two.

I'm so used to it, that I asked her to put her sweatshirt on her lap and if she was going to puke, to puke in the sweatshirt. Not trying to be insensitive and shitaki,but seriously, I was not feelin clean up on aisle 7. Besides puke+75 degrees... trapped in a car.... the stuff of nightmares. My nose would never forgive me.

She lays around all day, and has a drink around 1:00. And promptly pukes all over the dining room chair. While I turn around to get a paper towel, she proceeds to stagger into the living room like a wild hair barfin' monster and yak all over the stuffed chair in the living room.

Why?

I banished her to the bathroom floor, laying on a towel. Cuz I'm a mean mom like that. The cats, the 3 year old, the ever loving stench of curdled breakfast.... I pretty much curled up into a ball and banged my head against the wall. Seriously disgusting.

She is fine now, btw. My nose is in a permanent scrunched up position, but I'm good too.

Puke-nasty.

Clothes Lovin

Let's pretend I don't wear my pajamas to take my kids to school. Because I do. Pajama pants, sweatshirt on the cold days... (I don't even put on a bra.) I am all kinds of slobby pulling up in the drop off line. Luckily I can toss them out the window and get home in about 5 minutes. One day I *almost* had to get out of the car. I was sweating, trying to pull my birds nest on my head into a ponytail.... You think I would have learned my lesson and fallen to my knees in gratefulness. But I didn't. I still treat drop off like I am on my way to a slumber party.

Let's check out how I would like to arrive at school.... in the morning.


All from Anthropologie. All super effin adorable! *swoon*




This makes me happy. Like roll down a grass hill, pick flowers in my bare feet happy.



I would like to make a nice dinner out of fresh garden vegtables, serve on white scalloped plates, wearing my vintage apron. and perhaps pearls. All because of this dress. It brings out the Suzie Homemaker in me.




This... this is riding a bike down a country road. With or without a sweater. But a flower in my hair, and a basket on my bike.

I need to get out of these jammies for reals. And get to shopping. I looove these.
The end.

bah humbugizzle

I realized in all my christmas craftiness, that I took no pictures. No pictures of my photobooks, no pictures of my aprons, dishtowels, pot holders, mossy oak and flannel rag quilts, strawberries,chocolate and pink minky "abby" quilt, nothing. I spent my days busy with my all star girlies in softball and soccer. And my 3 year old, who will tell you "it's all about me." Hilarious and inappropriate.

My camera died, and now I have a new one. One for new pics, new stories and 365 days of pictures. Which I've posted on my other blog, the original. I'm just going to put a pic I take each day on there.

And now, I need to go watch MADE on mtv. Because that's how I keep my youth.

2010

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

Neil Gaiman