This, that, and the other

Man--this working everyday thing is sure cutting into my blogging time. Not only is it cutting into the time I have to actually write, it's cutting into the hours when I would otherwise be doing, hearing, seeing, and experiencing blog-worthy things. My world is dull, dull, dull at the moment.

Currently, Soph and her friend Bianca are watching Care Bears and coloring some Care Bears I printed for them. Soph is in to this baby-talk phase and it's almost as annoying as the spitting phase was. Also, her father taught her to give wet-willies. Enough said. She has also taken to folding her arms and haughtily turing her head and saying "Final!" when I tell her to start or stop doing something she doesn't want to start or stop doing. This, combined with yelling "Silence!" when I'm talking is leading me to wonder where I went wrong with her more and more.

Mostly these days I work, clean up Sophie and Jimmy messes, (does the chewing up everything EVER stop with a dog?) and watch Firefly. I must say, I've become a bit of an addict in that department. I never watched it until E got the first (and last) season on DVD--but it only took one episode, and I'm pretty much hooked. It's not just that Captain Mal is the HOTTEST HOTTEST HOTTEST fictional man ever (sorry Mr. Darcy. He's even got you beat.) but the whole story, all the characters, the sometimes hilarious and sometimes heart-wrenching stories--well, it had me from hello I guess.

In nutritional news--my last shopping trip was a bit of a cluster-fuck. I was trying to buy a lot of whole foods, produce (to probably eventually throw away) and reading labels on everything else. Asking myself, "Should I REALLY buy the three dollar free range, no hormone, apparently laid from magical chicken eggs, or can we do with the 99 cent regular ones? Why the fuck is there corn syrup and cotton seed oil in whole wheat bread? 2.50 for organic chicken noodle soup? Will the Campbells really be that bad?" and so on. I did buy the Annies, or Amy's or whatever mac and cheese, and did spend three dollars on the eggs, but the Campbells was on sale 2 for a dollar, and I just couldn't pass it up.

Kods and I are on our way to see Brokeback mountain here in a few minutes, so I must run. I need to find a water bottle to fill with vanilla rum to smuggle in in my purse, and at least brush my teeth and put on a bra.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sunday morning snuggles in bed

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soup guilt

Workin' for the Weekend

Last weekend, E, Sophie and I drove up to Salt Lake (Provo actually) to stay overnight and visit my step-son, Janzen. Usually, E drives to Salt Lake (a 3 hour drive) on Friday, picks him up and turns around and drives back, and then I drive him 2/3ds of the way back on Sunday (his mom meets me at a kind of hilarious truck stop.) However, this weekend E had saved up some Marriot rewards points and so we decided to use them on a family mini-break.

We hit the road on Saturday, after delivering Jimmy to my parents and did ok for about the first, oh, 2 minutes. E was very thoughtful and bough some cartoons for Sophie to watch in the Game Boy—but the picture was so small and sound so fuzzy that she was only entertained by it for about 5 minutes.

So—somewhere around Paragonah (a real name and a real town. I think in Paiute it means “evil water”) I said fuck-it, and climbed in the back with her. We played My Little Ponies for, oh, ever, and then I busted out these little chain making things. The idea is to sort them by shape and color and click them into chains for jewelry, etc. Soph, however, wanted to take turns chaining each other up, pretending to steal the key (an extra chain piece which she cunningly tucked into her sock), and escaping. For some reason (probably some cartoon) it was very important that we shout out, “Don’t be so sure!” upon our escape.

We also sang the name game song—(which she is getting quite good at. She now “banana-fannas” around the house pretty regularly. Yes, singing the name-game song is an act punishable by drowning in caterpillars after about the age of 10, but when Soph sings it, the cuteness sort of ricochets off the walls) and the “Sophie Gene” song—each about 90 zillion times. (I made up the Sophie Gene song when Soph was first born, and have been adding verses to it since. It changes as she gets older—but mainly it goes:

Sophe Gene, Sophie Gene is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Sophie Gene, oh my sweet sweet Sophie, won’t you come play with me?
Sweet Sophie Gene, went for a walk on a sunny day, and who did she see?
Mommy and Daddy and Janzen, too.
Oh what a silly Sophie Gene.

Sophie Gene, Sophie Gene, is sweeter than a tangerine.
Sophie Gene, oh my sweet sweet Sophie, won’t you come play with me?
Sweet Sophie Gene, went for a walk on a sunny day, and what did she see?
Mandy and Zachy and Madeline
Oh what a silly Sophie Gene.

There are lots more verses—changes made in lines 1 and 3 based on different words that rhyme with Gene, different people we know, and sometimes animals, etc.)

After picking up Janz, we headed to the dinosaur museum. The kids had fun—I forgot the camera, and at the gift shop, they both chose the very appropriate and dinosaur-esque prize of a slinky.

Like all kids, the only REAL reason they showed up for the party was to swim in the hotel swimming pool. So, we checked in, suited up, and had a very nice time bobbing around together.

At dinner, Sophie started complaining of a tummy ache. I kind of blew it off, because I knew she was hungry, but then she lay down on the bench and started acting pretty pokey. Just as the waitress was taking our order, Soph informed me she was going to throw up. I grabbed her, put my hand over her mouth, shoved past the waitress, and ran blindly looking for a bathroom. I found it, opened the door, and Soph puked all over the floor. I guess better on the bathroom floor than at the table. So—she puked in a toilet stall while I cleaned up the mess as best as I could with paper towels. I didn’t know if Erik had heard her say she was going to throw up, so I didn’t know if he was aware of my plight. So—I left Soph alone—sick—in the bathroom (bad mommy) to get Erik. He was very nervous to be conferencing with me in the ladies, but, desperate times call for desperate measures. Ultimately, he took Soph back to the hotel, I arranged to get our food to go, and we all met up back at the hotel about 30 minutes later.

Luckily—the puking was just a result of too much time in the car and swallowing too much chlorine. She fell asleep sitting up in bed, and slept pretty much through the night.

I, however, did not, My Janzen is the sweetest, smartest kid on the planet, but that kid snores like a freakin’ freight train. Between his snoring, Soph’s kicking, and me worrying that she was going to barf again, I slept for about 2 hours.

I’m bored of this story—so suffice it to say, the trip home was about the same as the trip up—and that when I woke up Monday morning to get ready for work (and discovered my period had started) I thought—Huh? Don’t I get a weekend first?

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Last night was the first night I put her to bed without a pull-up. She was fine, and woke up with dry panties and a dry bed. Could it be we’re totally totally potty trained?

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
As always—the mess. The freaking, never ending, constantly building, unmanageable, mess.

Somebody call 9-Wah-Wah

This is a bitching/Woe is me/I hate being fat post. Skip it if you've heard enough of that shit. I would.

So--day before yesterday I went to see the doc to start up my phentermine prescription again. Things have been getting pretty dire in the pants department. He looked at my weight and actually shook his head and made that disapproving clicking sound. I could have died of embarrassment. I asked him to scale down the dosage, as the last round was making me too jiggery, and as a result, I quit taking them.

Cut to yesterday--a blizzard. I decided to try and go to the Wednesday yoga class for the first time--got in the car--drove to the Paiute culture cultural center, trudged through the snow to the front door, only to find a note that said--"Yoga Class Canceled." Not too zen to pissed of about yoga--but I was.

Then--as I was already out, decided to go pick up my prescriptions--Both the Lexipro (anti-depressant) and Phentermine (appetite suppressant.) The pharmacy is in a long line of stores, one of which is the LDS bookstore my in-laws own. It also carries a very few "national" titles. I browsed the health and nutrition section, as I generally suck at feeding myself, and picked up "Eight Weeks to Optimum Health" a la Andrew Weil--the bearded nutritional wonder. So I'm reading along, and nodding, and going--sure, sure, sounds good. Then he says, go through my pantry and throw out everything with hydrogenated oils, artificial sweeteners, artificial colors, and all oils that are not olive (particularly cottonseed). Problem. That is like half of my pantry. I know the shit is bad for me--and worse for Sophie, but no Mac and Cheese? No pancake mix? Basically, nothing that has been convenience-ized. Fuck. I know I eat shitty. But everything? Can I? Should I? It seems that if I'm going to do this, I'll have to cook from scratch like EVERY NIGHT!!

So took my pills this morning, and am totally, totally, spun. This didn't happen last time. I'm edgy, gittery, nauseous, and just fucking nuts.

I don't know if I have the will power and time to go the "right" rout. I don't know if I can stand the speediness of the medication. Am feeling like just being unhealthy and 40 (ok 50) pounds overweight for ever. Anyone seen any good sales on moo-moos?

Today's best thing about being a mom:
It gives me something to think and worry about other than myself

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
She woke up at five fucking thirty this morning!! I still had an hour. A whole lovely hour of sleep left. Nope.

Fondu?

Just now
Me: "Soph! Where are your pants!!"
She: "I got cheese in em!"

Your Assignment

This is an assignment I gave today. The idea is that the students complete one version of the "poem" (don't lets argue about what a poem is--ok) for themselves, and another version based on a character in the novel we're reading. I hand out a paper that looks like this.

______________________
your name

_____________________ is a ___________________
your name

Who wants

Who wishes

Who needs

Who used to

Who now

Who is afraid of

Who will some day

The products I get are sometimes very silly and surface--but often are very thoughtful. Here is one I did very quickly today (with a few additions that weren't particuarly "school appropriate"), just as an example.

Rebecca is a mother, teacher, wife, woman, and human

Who wants to sleep in some day, read an entire novel from start to finish without being interrupted, reclaim her libido, go a day without back pain, feel she is getting better than a "C" an all subjects of her life, have a clean house, and be happy.

Who wishes her husband laughed more, her daughter was less messy, her students were more attentive, her sister lived closer, and her life was less complicated, but more exciting.

Who needs to take at least 4 ibuprophin a day, to learn to accept the mess without giving up on it, to take more walks, and to go to the post office today.

Who used to stay in bed all weekend, wear a size 10, believe in heaven and hell, and be friends with Kelli.

Who now thinks getting up at 8:00 is sleeping in, doesn't look in full length mirrors, believes she'll have a Cosmopolitan this evening, and wonders what would happen if she gave Kelli a call.

Who is afraid of ants, failure, scales, phentermine, kidnappers and child abusers, being ignored, and the urge to just stop caring sometimes.

Who will some day stay in bed all weekend, wake up to a clean house, have a healthy body that she loves, finish her masters, take a train ride to Albuquerque, cook a 7 course gourmet meal with Katy, and sit on the beach at Point Lobos with her husband.


So, as I said, there's your assignment. Post here in the comments, or on your blog--just let me know so I can read it. It's due by Friday. Only 70% credit for late assignments.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Looking forward to a big hug and kiss when I go pick her up today

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Combing her hair in the morning

Meanwhile...back at the ranch

What is this? I'm sitting in a comfortable chair, and my wrist isn't falling asleep from sitting on a knife like corner. It is completely silent. Glancing around, I see no Sophie toys, no Jimmy toys, and nothing has been chewed on, spilled on, or otherwise destroyed.

That's right--I'm at Mom's house. The PU's (parental units) and Katy have sojourned up north to take care of the geriatric needs of the extended family, and this morning, after a long and harrowing day yesterday, I loaded the laundry in the car (ok--Erik loaded--but I told him to) and headed for this veritable oasis of clean and quiet. I have about 3 hours ahead of me and I plan to spend about 1 of them fucking around on the computer, 1 in the bathtub, and 1 reading the paper and looking through the 1 gazillion catalogues my mom receives daily. (Oh--and shuffle the laundry in and out as needed.)

I love being at my mom's house when no one is here. It's like crashing a super nice hotel for free for a few hours. I never actually lived in this particular model. It's officially the 6th or is it 7th place my parents have lived in since we all moved to Utah, and I only lived in 2 of them--ok 3 if you count that couple of months I moved back during a rocky patch with E. Building houses is my parent's hobby. Anyhootenany Mom's pantry is always stocked, the place is always clean, and mom always has good stuff. The hot tub. The walk in shower. The comfy computer chair. Ahhh.

Now then--a little catching up. The first week of teaching everyday actually went quite well. We have a new group of students thanks to a little prescription pill swapping at the "real" high school. It's so funny when we get a batch like this. They always are a little scared--think they're going to be knifed or something. They always think they're just a little to good for us, and that they will be returning to their home schools asap. After a few weeks though, they start to love it, to see how great it is to be in a class with fewer than 15 students. To be at a school with no social aristocracy. To have a teacher that writes prespositional phrases as though they were sentences. By the end of the quarter, they and their parents generally want them to stay forever, and we have to be pretty firm about who we'll keep (those who really need us) and those who don't.

The main problem has been, as is the norm in teaching, other adults, not kids. My principal failed to notify the district office correctly that I was returning full time. As a result--my health benefits have been held up (I've been wearing this pair of disposable 1 month contacts for like, 6 months and they fucking HURT) and my pay check did not reflect my extra hours last week. So, I called the district office, and explained (very politely) to the insurance/payroll secretary that I was now full time, and asked who I had to blow to get my freaking money and benefits. (Ok. I just asked her what the best way to fix the problem would be.) She said, and this is a direct quote, "Well, I'll call and talk to your principal, and if you really are full time I will call you back." Huh? Is it just me, or was that in incredibly rude/bitchy/untrusting thing to say. Do they have a problem with people randomly calling and lying about working full time? After a bit of phone and email tag, however, I think I fixed the problem.

In other riveting news--I've started taking a yoga class (it's actually a women's empowerment yoga class--no scoffing please) and have been twice now. Truth? It's THE BOMB!! I love the class, love the teacher (a 50 year old pixi-ish knock-out with the most beautiful autumn coloring you've ever seen), love how I feel while I'm there, love how I feel for approx. 3 minutes after the class until I forget everything an fall back to shit again--but hopefully that 3 minutes will turn into 5 and maybe 10 and who knows, some day, I may be a walking force for calming and wholeness and awareness in the universe. But not today.

Actually--I'd love to be enlightened--who wouldn't, but I'm kind of afraid it will make me kind of, I don't know, dull. I'm not TOO neurotic, but I must admit, I'm a bit attached to my neurosis. (What an incredibly shallow way to feel.)

Now--Sophie news. My child is an incredibly gifted mess maker. Everyday she comes up with new and varied ways to drive me mad. When not decorating the walls with crayon, marker, nail polish, pudding, or toothpaste, she loves to make soup. Making soup entails sneaking some kind of liquid--water from the toilet, a juice box, dad's old half empty can of Pepsi, pouring it into a bowl--could be the dog's, or her lunch box, or even a shoe will work in a pinch--and adding any kind solid to it.

Yesterday she was grounded for the first time. She took a carrot out of the refrigerator, OPENED the door and walked ACROSS THE STREET to feed the real bunny that belongs to her friend Bianca. I was doing laundry at the time, so my negligence is partly to blame, but dude, I was so scared, so worried. I searched the house, then ran across the street to find her sitting in the snow, happily poking a carrot throughout he bars of the rabbit cage. She just grinned and told me she was feeding the bunny. I grabbed her, and proceeded to spank her bare butt right then and there, and wouldn't let her play with her friends for the rest of the day. She was PISSED but Christ almighty--that girl has got to learn that she is a CHILD!!! We talked a lot about the incident, and I think she understands, kind of, why I was so angry--but really, she just seemed to be placating me.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Ice cream cone cupcakes. Remember those? Delish.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Trying to figure out what to do with a child who is fiercely independent

Thpbt

These things challenge my belief in a benevolent god.

1. Back fat
2. Zits ON TOP OF wrinkles
3. Hemorrhoids
4. Hangovers
5. The Telletubbies


I'm grumpy as hell--but that probably just comes from having to go to work EVERY DAY this week. Yes, I know I'm a whiney cry baby--but fuck, when does one clean the fucking house when one has to work all the time? Here is a list of the things on the floor in my living room today.

3 headed dog toy (From Harry Potter)
disgusting chewed on dog ball
sheet of Christmas gift tags
a gorilla flashlight--the light comes out his mouth
a tape measurer
duck bill platypus stuffed toy with the legs chewed off--looks like weird obese fluffy snake
purple pajama top
shards of a chewed up pencil
3 used dryer sheets
plastic bag from "Mountain West Books"
FOOZEBALL TABLE that was supposed to be moved downstairs 3 WEEKS AGO
1Bella Dancerelly wand ribbon dancing thing
duck zoo pall
video box for Almost Famous
barrel of monkeys--the monkeys, not the barrel
pig ear (for Jimmy--obviously)
playstation controller
squirty fish bathtub toy
empty juice box
pieces of umbrella doll stroller Sophie cut to pieces
bra
zebra with head and 1 leg chewed up

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Tough. Sending her to her friend's house to play?

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph the burgeoning chef wants to cook things. In her play kitchen. All the time. She sneekes food out of the kitchen and into her room constantly. Doesn't care if she gets a time out or spanking either. She just keeps doing it.

32 Pick-up (Happy Birthday Mandy!)

In honor of my big sis's birthday tomorow, (it's my first day back full time at school, and the first day of the new semester tomorrow--so I probably won't get a chance to post) here are 32 random things about the queen of the Krause House. (Seems like not too long ago, I was so jealous of those 18 months she has on me. Not so much anymore. ;)

1. Don't get behind her at the salad bar. She's known to pick her lettuce a leaf at a time, and to consider with great seriousness every other item she puts on it.

2. When she orders a sandwich at a restaurant, she has to disassemble it, and then reassemble it with everything in perfect order, and in perfect balance.

3. She's VERY opposed to her eggs having ANY slime on them.

4. Girl can DANCE!

5. Mand won some impressive award for math in elementary school. Can't remember what it was, but it was a big deal.

6. Queen Krause is a big time reader. She introduced me to all of my favorites: Anne McCaffrey, Robin McKinley, Robert Heinlein, Tamora Pierce.

7. Not only that, but she's an excellent cook! My personal favorites are her brisket and tiramisu.

8. Her hands are very elegant and delicate to the point of looking and feeling very fragile. Whenever I hold her hand, it makes me want to put some mittens on them to protect them.

9. She enjoys the "good stuff." cashmere sweaters, Tanguray gin, salon hair products, etc.

10. Mand has been practicing yoga for 10ish years, and is currently working toward becoming a certified yoga instructor.

11. She is a cookie decorator extrordinaire.

12. When we were little, we both complained that we had been given no middle names. Dad dubbed her "Amanda Lou Gene." I only recently realized that one of the reasons "Sophie Gene" resonated with me so deeply was because I was giving her Mand's pseudo middle name. (In case you were wondering, I was/am Rebecca Sue Ann.)

13. Mandy rarely, if ever, looses anything. (Unlike me. I've turned loosing things into an art.)

14. Once when she got a speeding ticket, she waited until the middle of church, and told my dad about it via a note. Pretty clever, actually. During the years that she and I were stuck in church together, we filled up the program with notes (how I wish we had saved those) and played thousands of rounds of the "dot game."

15. Her lips are perfectly shaped.

16. Traveling makes her irregular.

17. She and I dated at least 10 of the same guys--but rarely simultaneously.

18. She looks amazing in red.

19. Enjoys listening to raunchy hip-hop music.

20. Is a huge Prince fan

21. Hit a rocky patch where she dated several unsavory--and unworthy guys, one of whom went by "Griz"

22. Has never been a smoker of cigarettes

23. Thinks the Wiggle Anthony and Joe of Blues Clue's are kind of cute

24. Enjoys Ben and Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream

25. Is a darn good skier

26. Likes graham cracker sticks dipped in strawberry cream cheese.

27. Mandy helped me pay for my first car.

28. Has become an excellent painter (of walls and such)

29. Has fond, rather than nightmarish, memories of middle school.

30. Worked the drivethrough at McDonalds for a while during college

31. Was actually married AFTER her little sis (I married 7 months before she did)

32. Never cleans her plate.

So--I've inevitably left the most important things out. If you know Madame Krause, leave a detail or two in the comments here, and of course, drop by her blog today or tommorow to wish her a happy birthday!

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Blowing raspberries in her belly button

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
That girl will not listen. I told her she could NOT get into my nail polish yesterday. Today she painted the bathroom wall with it while I blogged this list. Then--after I spanked her butt, she sobbed, "It was a present for you Mommy!" This as after last night, when she drew all over the table with green crayon and I told her crayons and markers and paint are for PAPER ONLY. (An update, 30 minutes after I posted this--purple marker, on her bedroom wall. I don't want to beat my child--ok, I kind of do--but I cannot figure out a way to get her to DO WHAT I SAY. I think she's doing all of this on principle. I'm totally stumped.)

Fun with soap and water

This is a little set up that is a combination of 2 montesorri activities Soph LOVES at school. I just gave her a cookie sheet, 2 containers of water with a drop of food coloring, some dish soap, a whisk (a rotary beater would be MUCH better) and a turkey baister. Here that moms? Soap and water. She had fun with this FOR EVER! Yes, it was a bit messy, but most of the mess stayed on the cookie sheet, and as for the rest, it's soap and water for cripes sake.

Fun things that she discovered to do were: move the water from container to container with the baister, use the whisk to make bubbles and, (one I hadn't envisioned) use the baister to BLOW BUBBLES! I actually wanted to give that a try, but she wouldn't relinquish the baister, so I just had to go back to cleaning the kitchen.

In a much messier turn of events, Soph had a little pantsless pizza making party the other day. It was one of those times where I was being totally clueless, and she was going about her business, until I stopped and went--"Hmmm. It's awfully quiet in here. She had taken the flour out of the pantry, put it in a bowl (and all over the floor) added some water, and voila! Pizza dough! I'm not exactly sure how the pantslessness came into effect, other than I can never get that kid to stay completely dressed.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph and I made bird feeders today. You know--the kind you made in kindergarten when you spread peanut butter on a toilet paper tube, and then rolled it in bird seed? Anyway--that was kind of fun.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
If I pick up ONE more tiny bead from the Polly Pocket Beading Machine I may go mad.

Take 5

Just a quicky response to a tag from grody jodie. The topic--5 weird things about you--that is me, um, you get it.

1. I love to pull out my eyelashes, and have to try really hard not to. When I get very stressed, I can't help it, and end up with bald patches on my eyelids.

2. I am the fastest reader I know. I mean, super fast. Like--I am a super hero in this regard.

3. I vacillate between thinking I am the hottest thing ever on 2 feet to thinking I am Jaba the Hut's fraternal twin sister several times a day.

4. I know all the words to every pop song released between 1980 and 1990. (Only a slight exaggeration.) This is not because I like them. It's kind of a Rain Man thing.

5. I'm an English teacher, and I suck at spelling.

More from Sin City

In a highly unfair twist of mechanical mayhem yesterday, my computer was BROKEN. Luckily for me, my husband is both super sexy and super clever with hardware. Apparently something was majorly fucked-up with the hive. Now--I know I've been hearing some buzzing, but hive? Anyhoo, he fixed 'er up, and now, I shall recommence the tale of the Vegas trip--and throw a few other morsels in here and there.

So--Saturday morning, I woke up and realized that if we left at 9:00, which was my plan, with the time change from Utah to Vegas, we'd arrive at 11:00 Vegas--2 hours before our lunch date. I blame genetics. My grandmother leaves for things DAYS before, and my mother (although she's getting much better) can barely take a shit without an intinerary. I called Kods and Katy, and suggested that we leave at 10:30 rather than 9:00, to which they both answered something like, "Yea, I wondered why we were leaving so early." Fuck girls. You have to let me know when I'm being neurotic. I can't pick it up on my own anymore.

So--after a couple of false starts, we headed down the freeway. I had burned us a couple of great singin' in the car CD's (Allison Krause, Patty LaBelle, Joan Osbourne, etc.) and we rocked the miles away.

Whether I want to admit it out loud or not, I have lived most of my life in a small southern Utah town, and Vegas traffic is a bit scary for me. When stressed and driving, I tend to sing to other drivers--so we merged from I15 to the 95, me singing "Moooother fucker! Let me meeeerge! Fuuuck-o-rama! You drive like my aaaass!" Because map-quest is apparently run by monkeys, or at best, lemurs, I had a bit of trouble getting us to the meeting place (Memphis Barbecue) but eventually made it.

That's when my nerves started up. I wanted Patrice to think I was funny--cool--nice--quirky, but knew in my heart I would come off as a fat boring fraud. Then I started to worry--when she comes in, should I hug her? Is she a huggy kind of person? A handshake? Just hello? I began to wish that we had all brough lap-tops, and could just IM each other wittily across the table.

Luckily, when P and family arrived, things felt, I don't know, right. (The 2 screwdrivers might have helped.) Lunch was lovely, and although I probably over compensated just a little (ok--more than a little) I don't think I came off as a TOTAL spaz.

After lunch, I at least, wasn't ready to say goodbye--so we all headed back to the Paris (Kodi behind the wheel, as I was just a TRIFLE inebriated.) We met in the casino, wandered for a bit, and then Kods, Patrice, and I headed off to do some gambling. I stuck a ten in the video poker, chose deuces wild (my favorite) and some 10 minutes later, was the proud winner of one hundred smacks. My favorite part of the day was when, after I had cashed my voucher, Patrice nudged me and said, "Remember that time we were in Vegas and you won a hundred bucks?"

Fuck, I have so much more to add, but E's great grandmother died, and I have to go get ready to sing at her funeral. (I'm not insensitive. She was ninety-million. Not a surprise or anything.) More later.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph keeps requesting that we listen to the "Chicky Chicky Ya Ya" song. Lady Marmalade. Yes.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Caught her giving herself a hair cut AGAIN this morning.

Leavin' Las Vegas

Just got back from our rendezvous with Patrice and Fam in Vegas. Will post in detail tomorrow night after work--but wanted to say a few things while they're fresh.

Patrice is SO NICE!!! I was worried I wouldn't be quite as cool as she is, or that things would feel weird, or that we'd wish we'd just kept being blog friends. It felt oddly like we were going on a blind first date with 4 adults, 2 tweens, and one baby, but after about 20 seconds, it was totally comfortable. Bella is the sweetest little pixie I EVER did see. Trent is a doll--with the nicest voice. Sean couldn't be more friendly, (the word cordial comes to mind for some reason.) And Patrice? Dude. Looks you in the eye when she talks to you. Is funny--smart--pretty--and did I mention, SO NICE!

So--a play by play tomorrow, where I highlight our lovely lunch (who knew deep fried pickles were SO DELICIOUS) and relate how I won ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS!! (It was actually 103.25.)

Me singing Delta Dawn

OK--So this is just me singing into the phone on Audioblogger so that those of you who think you don't know Delta Dawn will go, "Oh yea--I remember that." Please refrain from offering me recording contracts, as I am very happy as an underpaid and underglamorous public ed teacher. Thanks.

Ramblings

I fucking love the song "Delta Dawn." Don't hate me too much, but whether it's Helen Reddy or Tanya Tucker, I will sing the shit out of that song all night long. In fact, that's what I've been doing. Sitting at my computer, playing ZamBeeZee, the Media Player playing Delta Dawn over and over again.

Shit--Erik just came up and he's not going to be ok with either the Delta-Dawn-o-rama or the ZamBeeZee, or the Helen Reddy for that matter. Oh well. Fuck it.

So--Images from the last few days.

Sophie, sitting on the toilet, naked, a Scooby-Doo band-aid hanging off of her chin, talking into a pair of nail clippers like they were a cell phone.

Erik, laying on the couch, exhausted with me, the world, and everything.

Mandy--across the booth from me at Sullivans eating buckwheat pancakes.

Soph again, naked from the waist down, running through the house yelling "My pants are KILLING me!"

Janzen, brows furrowed, playing foozeball as though it were the fooze finals of the universe.

Mandy at Walmart, helping Soph and I find the perfect place mat to fit into Soph's lunch box. (It's a montesorri thing)

It's been a kind of surreal week or two. The holidays always give me that weird feeling that the world only exists as a bizarre setting to see just how fucked up it can get me. Sometimes in a good way--sometimes bad.

Soph had her first day at Montesorri today. (Note to self: learn to spell montesorri.) I think (she said knocking on wood) that it is going to ROCK! Imagine, a lovely remodeled house, with kid sized tables, 3 loving teachers, and trays and trays of "work." Example--2 beakers with purple liquid, a turkey baster, and a sponge. 3 year old heaven!!! Or if you'd rather, a box of locks, and a box of keys, ready to match and open. Would you rather cut? How about little strips of colored paper all ready to snick and snick. Blocks more your speed? Why not put some together on the floor, then see if you can get a marble to roll down them? Where as in the past, Soph would run to me and grab my legs when I picked her up, today she absently said "Hi mom" and went on sweeping little pieces of foam into a square taped on the floor.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Seeing your little girl HAPPY!

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The battle of the pants

No, I'm not pregnant and he's not Jesus. However, yes, that is a Chihuaua. 

"Delta Dawn, what's that flower you've got on. Could it be a faded rose from days gone byyyyyyyyyy?"

The best picture of Kodi EVER. ( NO! She ain't gonna take it!) 

Pre-Party smilin' sistas (Double chins are comming back in--really!) 

The first game 

Pre-Pary sultry sistas 

The Glow in the Dark Doodle Bear is unwrapped, and the second worst picture of me ever taken 

Sophie first lays eyes on the Disney Princess Talking Vanity 

12 Sudsy Steps?

I'm an addict.

I swore I'd only do it once. But it was SO GOOD.

I've spent my Christmas money on it, and started dipping into my savings.

You see, a couple weeks ago, E was out of town, and I was feeling blue. My blueness wasn't helped by the fact that due to Christmas preparations, Sophie and I had literally worn every item of clothing we own, twice. The laundry mountain had become a mountain range. I cracked.

I packed the whole thing into garbage bags and took it to the laundry mat in town that has a wash and fold service.

Just a few hours later, and I was presented with clean clothes. Clean clothes I didn't clean. Folded clothes. Folded clothes I didn't fold. Shirts. On hangers. All for 80 cents a pound.

Today I looked at the laundry mountain and began to shake. The jones became stronger and stronger. The next thing I knew, I had SNEAKED the laundry past E, out the front door and into the car where, on some trumped up excuse (had to by batteries I think), I delivered it to the washers and folders. I picked it up this evening--opened the bag to a pile of fresh smelling and expertly folded clothing, and the high was excruciatingly intense. Now though, the guilt is eating at me. 80 cents a pound sounds cheap--but clothes are heavy. I simply can't afford to have other people do my wash for me. I have a perfectly good washer and dryer sitting empty in my basement. Who am I to think other people should wash my dirty socks?

But now that I've done it, it's going to be so hard to quit.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph was playing with her friend B in her room today. I totally eavesdropped on their conversation. It's so fun to hear her orchestrate the play with someone other than me.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Finding an egg--cracked open mind you--in the play kitchen that had been there FOR SOME TIME!

The Great Escape

E and I had a perfectly ugly blow out last night.

So--today I am a fugitive. I woke up this morning with an emotional hangover of epic proportions. Then, called around looking for a massage with no success. E felt bad for me and made a few more calls--ultimately finding an opening at the new massage school in town.

The massage was so good--but so exhausting. The girl was a complete angel as I bawled my way through most of it. Apparently, the muscles in my shoulders are basically petrified. She did something called "stripping" the muscles that didn't necessarily hurt, but that made me bawl and bawl and bawl some more. As I said, the therapist was a complete angel and went over our scheduled time by 45 minutes because I had SO MUCH work to be done, and because we kept having to stop for me to mop my nose and regain enough composure to continue.

After the massage, I took myself out to lunch, and as I still don't want to go home, I'm typing this entry from "The Grind," CC's local coffee house/New Age-y Christian church.

Now--I guess I'll go wander around Walmart for a while, to put off the inevitable. Going home. Sigh.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Lately Soph is the snuggliest little thing. I just get hugs and kisses all day.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Here is a brief list of things NEVER to buy your friend's or family's kids for Christmas. (Unless you hate them.) Dealing with these things is the worst thing today.

1. Play make-up. I mean, it's REAL, and makes a REAL mess, but is designed for little girls to play with. By play, I mean cover their faces, bodies, clothing, and bedspreads with.

2. Musical instruments of any kind.

3. Polly Pocket Beading Machine. (OK--I bought this one. But it SUCKS! Millions and millions of little beads. Everywhere.)

4. Silly putty. (DUH!)

4. Finger paint (Double DUH!)

How I Fucked Up This Christmas

1. Waited until Christmas morning to make the 2 coconut cream pies to take to E's sister's house. Didn't notice until I had mixed everything together that the milk had gone sour. No pies.

2. Bought a turkey breast that was too big for my crock pot. Just discovered this. Now will have to run home half way through lunch @ E's sis house to put in oven.

3. Refered to my parents and Kate as "my family," thus, apparently hurting E's feelings, resulting in a fight in which I called him a lazy prick. Ahh. Christmas.

4. Didn't notice as the dog stole and chewed up Sophie's new kitten (toy). She discovered it chewed and mangeled in the kitchen.

Christmas eve-eve

Apparently I started this post at 12:53 last night--but didn't make too much progress.

I love Christmas eve-eve. It's my favorite part of the holidays. Close enough to the big day to feel exciting, but not close enough to have one's presence required by anyone other than chosen friends.

The regulars came over for cocktails, cheeseballs, and games. I had about 2 drinks too many but maintained my composure fairly well. We busted out "Songburst," a game that is super fun, but that, for some reason, brings out the worst competitive side of all. E refuses to play, because singing is involved, so he is the DJ and dictator. Basically he chooses a card, and reads 4 things. A date, singer, title of song, and first 2-4 words of a line. The player then must SING the rest of the line, this moving spaces on the game board. (1977, Supertramp, "Give a Little Bit.) I believe at one point I hollered "This game is under protest! Fuck all of you!"

My dad called about 3 rum and cokes in to tell me that the Disney Princess Talking Vanity that he was putting together for me for Soph WAS NOT TALKING! So--I started making plans to head to Walmart first thing this morning (horror of horrors--Walmart on Christmas Eve) when Katy, in a supreme gesture of selflessness, offered to take care of it. Luckily for her, the vanity just needed a good thump, and began talking as it should.

Bought E and Janz a KICK ASS present--will post later on what it is as E may read this, but suffice it to say, I nearly sprained my back again wrapping it. Still need to wrap the Santa gifts for Soph which include a glow-in-the-dark Doodle Bear, Polly Pocket magic bead jewelry maker, Dance-a-rella ballet dvd-o-rama thing, Mrs. Potato Head, and a few other things I can't remember. (The vanity will just get a big bow.)

So--very tired, but feeling ok. Christmas pictures and posts to come.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sticking adhesive bows all over each other

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Oh--how I miss sleeping in after a night of debauchery. No rest for the wicked I guess.

Lies I've told my daughter in the past 24 hours

She said: YEEEEEEEE! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!
I said: Sophie, if we don't brush your hair, it will get so tangled that birds will come build their nests in it.

She said: I HATE YOU!!!!
I said: Well--then I guess we'd better go find you a new mommy. Let's get in the car. (She's sure to be in therapy for that one.)

She said: Is Santa real or pretend?
I said: Real baby.

She said: How do the reindeer fly?
I said: They eat magic oats.

She said: I want to go home!!
I said: This will only take a couple of minutes. (This conversation took place on our way into the UPS store. 40 minutes and $20 smacks later, we were done.)

She said: Cut off the crusts!
I said: The crusts will make you big and strong.

She said: I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED!
I said: Santa's elves are watching, and they won't bring your Princess Talking Vanity if you don't lay down right now.

I think "good liar" should be part of a mom's job description. My mom told me lies--both white and black, ranging from, "If you keep pouting like that a little bird will come poop on your lip" to "Joseph Smith was a true prophet." The older Sophie gets, the more I seem to lie to her.

If you have kids, do you lie to them? Did your mom lie to you?

Today's best thing about being a mom:
So--we're driving around doing errands with my mom. Soph says to me, "You be an elf. I'll be Soph. You say--have you been a good girl?" So I do. She says, "Yes. Very very good." I say, "Well, I saw you squirting dish soap into Jimmy's water and all over your mom's kitchen floor." She says, "Can I talk to a new one?"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Shit--this being Santa thing is EXPENSIVE! I realized today that I forgot stocking stuffers. Sheesh.

You be...

This is the name of the new game Soph likes to play. Actually, it's the only game we play lately, other than duck duck goose, which is tricky with just 2 people.

Whatever book, movie, tv show, family member, friend, etc., Sophie is currently fixating on, she wants to be. So she says to me, "You be Velma. I'll be Scooby. You say, 'Would you do it for a Scooby snack?'" then she precedes to dictate the rest of the game--with me acting as her pawn--spewing out lines here and there as she sees fit.

In the last 24 hours, I have been: Glinda to her Dorothy ("Mommy--you say, 'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?'"), Maleficent, in her dragon form, to Prince Philip (this was at The Main Street Grill. Only by my super speedy lightning like reflexes did I avoid being stabbed with a jelly laden butter knife), some random monster to her princess (In this one, she wanted to be tied to her chair. Couldn't get her to wear pants this morning. Am glad no random callers dropped by.), and of course, Jimmy, our dog.

Spent half of the morning on-line looking for Russell Athletic NuBlend Sweatpant, NO POCKETS, mens size medium, in oxford gray--as this is really the only thing Erik wants for Christmas, other than sex with me wearing a Santa hat. Apparently, there is ONE pair of said sweats on the planet right now. I checked the Russell web site, Amazon, JCPenney, Sports-o-rama, Sports and Your Mom, and The Biggest Fucking Sportswear Site In All The Land. Each site let me only order one--just one pair of sweats. So--I ordered one from Pennys, and will get more for E for, um Valentines day.

The other half was spent printing out pictures of the kids, and putting them in cheap frames, wrapping said frames, hunting for addresses, etc to send to the great-grandma's up north. As a result the house has surpassed its usual level of repulsive filthiness. Soph's new favorite play thing? Coffee filters! These are super cool, because not only are there like a gazillion of them in the bag, perfect for strewing all over the place--but they can hold things, be smushed into place mats--or cut into snow flakes. Soph chose to fill a couple with orange and black fabric paint (left over from the Funshine Bear costume) and then stick her feet in them.

So--she's currently in the bathtub, playing with the Dora the Explorer bathtub set that we bought for her friend Addison for Christmas. Poor Addison will just have to live without it, I suppose.

In other riveting news--Katy and I made some toffee last night--which was delicious. I have packaged it in lovely Christmas tins, delivered it to various neighbors, and now that little job is done. In the rest of the world, are people expected to bring dinky little gifts to their neighbors--even if they don't really know or like them? Here in planet Utah, it's apparently a requirement to do so; the dinky gift should, preferably, include some stupid little saying or verse with it. Example--a plate of muffins with the card, "You're gettin' muffins for Christmas" or a box of Whoppers, cleverly dressed up as a reindeer by means of cut out pieces of felt, with a hole cut under the tail, thus to dispense the Whoppers/reindeer droppings and the verse

We were awakened when we heard Santa call,"Now dash away, dash away, dash away all."

We soon discovered, out on our front lawn,Santa and all of his reindeer were gone.

I ran to the lawn, and in the snowy white drifts,soon saw those nasty reindeer had left "little gifts."

So, with our little shovels, we started to scoop,all of the droppings. . . YUCK!. . . reindeer poop!

But we so generously filled up your sack,Have a merry old Christmas, and enjoy your snack!

attached.

.

WTF? Last year, one of my neighbors brought over a bag of brown and serve rolls. That's it. No bow. No jam. Just a bag of brown and serve rolls--not even browned!

Soph's out of the tub--so I must go see what havoc she's reeking.

.

Today's best thing about being a mom:

Playing pretend

Today's worst thing about being a mom:

Finding Soph on all fours, licking water out of Jimmy's bowl

Who's this big girl?

My baby has grown up.

It sneaked up on me so stealthily--I hardly even noticed. The bottles are all gone, (thanks to Jimmy--the huge unruly puppy--who chewed them all up) as are the diapers. No more high chair. No more bibs. Sophie's chest of drawers has nary a onesie. She's grown out of her stroller. We switched her from the car seat to the booster.

Rattles have been replaced by Barbies. The Baby Einstein videos are in the back of the cabinet, and Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White are in the front.

No more baby food or formula in the cupboard. In fact, this morning, with very little help on my part, Soph made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My only job was to cut off the crusts.

When we go to the restaurant, I no longer ask for a high chair. Now when the server comes, Sophie cheekily offers, "Umm. I'll have a woot beer please."

Instead of cheerfully spending her time chewing on baby biscuits and trying to roll over, Soph points out letters of the alphabet to me, and recognizes her name.

No more bouncy seat. Now we have a Barbie Jeep in the back yard, and a big wheel in the front.

Instead of trying to coax her to say Ma Ma, I spank her butt for calling me a pain in the ass. Instead of helping her learn to walk, I help her to a time out after I find her on the kitchen cabinet, dumping out the Lucky Charms all over the floor, better to sort the useless cereal from the delicious marshmallows.

I haven't changed a shitty diaper in months--but am now summoned into the bathroom to find her little butt poking up in the air waiting for a wipe.

Of course, I'm both elated and heart broken by this realization. Changing shitty diapers is something that even the most sentimental of mothers couldn't miss--but man, folding all of those little pairs of Care Bear panties kind of chokes me up sometimes.

I used to worry about her eating things off of the floor. Now I worry about all of her name calling (Apparently, any noun, followed by the word head, is a "name." ex. diaper head, couch head, banana head, hamburger head.)

Who is this big girl? What has she done with my baby?



Today's best thing about being a mom:
Not making bottles and changing diapers anymore

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Not making bottles and changing diapers anymore

Haven't felt much like posting lately. Today's post is more out of a weird sense of duty than of really wanting to.

I hate the winter so much. As the days grow shorter, I can feel my body start to shut down--my energy start to slip away--the happiness slowly leaching out of my life. Kind of dramatic--eh? I hate getting out of bed before the sun is up. And when the sun goes down--at 5:30--I want nothing more than to go to sleep. I started growing a pounding headache yesterday at about 3:00--had to lay down by 7:00--and fell asleep and slept until 7:00 this morning (with the mandatory 2-3 interruptions my Soph for this and that.) The point I guess I'm making is that I have a total split personality. During the spring and summer, I'm a fairly happy, gregarious, and dare I say fun and witty person. Fall and winter, however, see me as a sort of depressed slug.

Our Christmas plans are in the shitter, because of the engine on my old Nissan imploding, and that has lead to tons of friction between E and I. Add to that the current day care nightmare, and things here are just bordering on melt down.

That said, here's a little Soph update. I haven't taken her back to her old school. I don't think I will. So--I've been racking my brain looking for other options. Sweet Kodi took her yesterday, Gma C will have her tomorrow, and Friday, she'll probably come to school with me, as it's the last day before winter recess, and we're just doing fun holiday stuff anyway.

I still am hoping to put her in Montesorri. The scheduling is making me insane though. I lay in bed and think--ok, Mondays when I don't work all day, I can get her, when I do work, my mom can--Tuesdays will be E and F--what about Fridays though? And all other manner of scheduling cluster fucks. I sat down and made a calendar--hoping that would clear things up, but that just lead to a fight with E, and one thing we don't need right now are more fights.

That's about it.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Hmmm. (5 minute pause while thinking.) Fuck. There has to be something. OK. More trips to the ice cream parlor.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
She's currently having a tantrum (complete with threats that can't come to her party) because I won't fill up her toy box with water and let her have a bath in the living room while she watches "The King and I." Am I a raging bitch or what?

New hair. New school?

Had a shitty day yesterday, so when Soph shrieked like a scalded ape about having her hair washed and brushed, I asked, "Do you want short hair?" She said yes, so we headed to the hair styling college, and here is the result.

In further news, daycare is becomming a complete and total nightmare. She used to love it, but lately, she throws a huge fit whenever she has to go. In fact, today, when E took her, she started crying so hard that she hyperventelated and then threw up. He called me at work, I called a sub, and am here at home with her. I don't know if that was the right thing to do or not, but there you have it. When I've tried to talk to her about it, she tells me that school is scarry, and that the kids aren't nice. After talking to the teacher, I still don't have a great idea of what is going on.

So--I've been looking into other options. There is a new montesorri school here in town that her friend goes to. Everything I've heard about montesorri looks super, and they do a 8:30 to 3:30 Monday through Friday. It's pricey, but I'm hoping that grandma carolyn can be convinced to pick up the difference. I'm going to visit today, and we'll see.

Soph and I started playing a new game last nigh. Before bed, I said to her, "I love you more than everything." She picked right up on it, and said to me, "I love you more than bunnies." Here's the rest of the conversation.

M: I love you more than sunny days.
S: I love you more than pink bunnies.
M: I love you more than french fries.
S: I love you more than pink marshmallow bunnies.
M: I love you more than snuggily blankets.
S: I love you more than Care Bears.
M: I love you more than bubble baths.
S: I love you more than stickers.
M: I love you more than rocky road ice cream.
S: I love you more than...ummm...CARE BEAR STICKERS!!

I was quite flattered.

Oh--here are a couple of pics from the anniversary trip.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
An unexpected day off work

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
An unexpected day off work

Dull and Duller

I feel so tired lately. Things that I used to enjoy now seem more like tasks that need to be done. I'm not sure exactly what's going on, other than the fact that winter is upon is, and I am a solar powered person with no battery back up.

E and I celebrated our 10Th anniversary last weekend. We spend a lovely weekend in Zion Canyon just walking around, watching movies, eating out, and spending time without the kids, or dog, or jobs. It's been a LONG time since we've done that. 10 years of marriage. Zowie. Coming home after even just 2 days away was kind of tough. For as fortunate as I know we are, between work and kid stuff and, well, just life, the stress certainly can do a number on our relationship.

As for the Sophinator, I, again, am in the running for the world's worst mother. She's been congested for weeks, and coughing on and off for as long. I thought she just had a cold, but it lasted so long that I FINALLY took her in to the doctor yesterday. Raging ear infection. Bronchitis. Red throat. No wonder she's been such a pill lately. The antibiotics have started to kick in though, and last night, she slept through the night for the first time in AGES.

On a related note, the first dose of antibiotic was huge, as per the doctor's instructions, and we were standing in the middle of the game store (caught again. This time it's Dance Dance Revolution. I suck at it, but it's a blast, AND I'm getting aerobic exercise for the first time in about 5 years) when her stomach started to gurgle. I picked her up and asked where the bathroom was. They said they didn't have one--bullshit. We went in and out of 3 stores in the strip mall, and none of them would let us use their bathroom. I almost said "Well, I'll just let my kid shit all over your floor then" but luckily, the nice lady at the Verison Wireless let us use her bathroom after I told her we were having an emergency. That poor kid had the most explosive diarrhea I've ever encountered in a toddler.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Making bracelets with beads and pipe cleaners

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Christmas shopping in the toy department at Wal-mart

A Christmas Miracle

Every town has the Christmas house. The one with the extra power supply. The one that lights up the night like a Yuletide beacon. In our town, for many years, we called this house, simply, 'The Griswalds." (A nod to "Christmas Vacation.) However, this year when we took Sophie to see this spectacle, this veritable regurgitation of electric holiday madness, she looked at it in awe and said, "It's a Christmas Miracle!" So now, of course, the Griswalds have been renamed "The Christmas Miracle House."

Truth be told, I'm a bit of a Scrooge. However, reflecting last night on possible blog fodder, I realized that I have actually experienced one or two Christmas miracles, both small and large, of my own. Here is my favorite small miracle, and my favorite big one.

The Miracle of the Cheeseball
Last Christmas, just as Mand was getting ready to move, she and I and the kids were decorating Christmas cookies. We had Christmas music playing, the tree was lit, and the things were down right festive. Either she or I said "Now all we need is Mom's cheeseball." Now--said cheeseball is a little odd--major ingredients being shredded corned beef and Worcestershire sauce--but it's an acquired taste, we're all crazy about it, and it just tastes like Christmas to us. Not one minute after making our Christmas cheese wish, there came a knock on the door. It was a young lad--about eight or 10. Low and behold he was selling CHEESEBALLS! To raise money for some worthy cause or another, and not only were they cheeseballs, they were the exact same recipe my mom uses! Of course we bought one, devoured it, and thus ends the miracle of the cheeseball.

The Miracle of Sophie
I found out I was pregnant with Soph right before Christmas. Right before this time, I had been doing tons of yoga, and was taking a meditation class. I was just beginning to align my spirituality, but was still struggling heavily with many issues. I decided that I was ready for a teacher, and began sending energy into the universe (Damn. When I type that, it sounds down right floopy.) to send me one. I was also sending out that I was ready to start living my life in the moment--to find some gratitude--to connect with something bigger than myself. Now I only realized this a few weeks ago, but very very shortly after this experience, I got knocked up. I wouldn't call Soph a mistake--but she certainly wasn't a plan. During the last several days, I've realized that Sophie is the teacher I asked for, and that she is teaching me all of the things I truly wanted to learn.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Yesterday I was PISSED! E had dumped out my big box of Christmas decorations in our filthy disgusting laundry room, apparently some months ago, to use the box for a laundry basket. My mom was over, and I was telling her that I was MAD as HELL! Sophie heard me, and said, "Mom, Christmas isn't mad. It's magic!"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I really feel, now that she's 3 and really getting this Christmas thing, that I have to go all out this year, and it's just not my bag. I put lights up outside, have the tree up, and today am going to deck various other halls, but I feel more like I'm doing it out of duty than desire.

Happy Hallo-thanks-mas!

Hallo-thanks-mas--is the holiday that is apparently being celebrated at my house. Several Halloween window-clings remain clinging to the windows--along with 2 pumpkins in the window sill, and 3 little blow up ghosts hang near them. My table is bedecked with my lovely harvest runner, and the refrigerator holds the scanty remains of the Thanksgiving leftovers. Christmas lights twinkle outside (yes, it's 11:00 am, and I still haven't turned them off from last night) and the wreath I threw together last night adorns the door. Hallo-thanks-mas.

So--Thanksgiving went off basically without a hitch. My pies were a success. I tried something new with the pumpkin--and everyone LOVED it. The recipe is here, (I cheated and used canned pumpkin.) It's sweetened with real maple syrup and brown sugar. Of course, mom got a little martyr-ish, and hurt Katy's feelings a bit, but (I hate to say it) that's kind of to be expected.

Spending time with Mandy, I think, tops my list of the things I was most thankful for. We had a kick-ass time Friday night with Kods, Jen, Paul, and Katy, throwing back some vanilla rum and cokes and margaritas and playing games. The dominoes (prison rules, of course) were great--enhanced by Katy's new word--dominojo.

dominojo (n): a combination of the word "domino" and "mojo." It is the higher energy of the domino--and one possessing it can do no domino wrong. ex. "My dominojo was in full effect last night when I totally kicked Paul's ass at dominoes."

The Uno was also the bomb. Jorgensen house rules include everyone passing their cards in the direction of play whenever a 2 is put down, having the option to trade cards with any player when playing a 7, and being required to say something vulgar (Kodi won that one with "Jesus fucked me up the ass."), do a sexy dance (Jen took that prize--something about a moist towlette?), or make a barnyard animal sound when playing a wild draw four.

There was a BIT of tension when Mr. Dail dared argue with me (ME! The mistress of all evil!) about the presence of dolphins in the Guns n' Roses video for "November Rain." There totally ARE dolphins in that video--swimming down the street for no reason. If you'd like to tell him that I am right about this matter (which I looked up on line just to make sure--and was, again, RIGHT!) drop him a comment here. (FUCK FUCK FUCK! The dolphins are in Estranged--which, in my defence, is part of the same video trilogy that included November Rain. No--I'm not a huge G&R fan--but I am a huge fan of BEING RIGHT--which, I am not. 11/27 5:45)

So now, I'm beginning to think about Christmas shopping for Mrs. Sophie. As her favorite 3 toys of all time are--1) Paper towels, 2) a bamboo place mat and 3) a giant plastic candy cane, I kind of hate to drop $90 on the Disney Princess Magic Vanity that she's had her eye on. As for the baby sister that she asked Santa Clause for the other day, I'm afraid that she'll have to settle for a Cabbage Patch Baby.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph's cold pink cheeks after playing outside in the first show of the season.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph's cold pink hands, on my bare stomach, after same play session.

Easiest Coconut Cream Pie Ever

2 boxes (3.4 oz) instant coconut pudding
2 3/4 c COLD milk (whole works best--but 2% is ok)
1 carton cool whip (again--regular is ok, but the extra creamy is, umm, extra creamy)
1 premade grahm cracker crust
1 small package coconut (optional)

Optional--If you want to kick this up a notch, before you start the filling, put the coconut on a cookie sheet, and toast it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes, pushing it around with a spatula 2 or 3 times during cooking.

OK--Pour the cold milk into a bowl, and add the pudding. Whisk for 2 minutes. (Basically, follow the pie directions on the pudding box.) Fold in 1/2 carton of cool whip, and 1/2 the toasted coconut (optional). Pour into crust. Top with remaining cool whip, and sprinkle with remaining coconut (which, as you know, is optional.) I ususally flip the plastic thing that was in the crust over and use it for a lid. The pie sets up in 1 hour--but 3 is best. It's a great make the night before recipe.

Crack Kills

Just thinking over the past few days. Here are a few images that immediately come to mind.

Janzen (My step son. The NICEST, SWEETEST kid in all of creation.) and I playing Karaoke Revolution together. His signature numbers: What I Like About You, I Love Rock and Roll, Start Me Up. We wanted to get a perfect score on a duet--so we tried Uptown Girl. He sang the lead--I the back up. That kid has such a competitive streak. We must have sang that song 15 times--but never quite got the "diamond" record. I can hear him in my head "She's been living in her uptown world. As long as anyone with hot blood can. And now she's looking for a downtown man. That's what I am."

Sophie, at the dollar store sporting a pair of reindeer antlers on a head band. The antlers were wired, and one was bent. She came up to me with this perfectly crafted melancholy look on her face and said, "I'm the saddest reindeer."

Sophie again, waking me up this morning, naked from the waist down. She said, "Look what I did!" I look closely and see the 3 bandaids she had put on--right across her butt crack, as though to hold the two cheeks together. (Her dad was watching her. Really.)

Janzen at the library--Sophie in his lap, reading her "The Bathtub Grandpa."

So--tomorrow my assignment for Thanksgiving is pies. I'm just a bit flattered--I think the first Thanksgiving I was married, I was asked to bring ice or something. I'm no Katy in the kitchen, but the pie gods have smiled on me, and yes, I can bake a pretty bitchin' pie. I'm going to shake things up just a little this year. I found a pumpkin pie recipe that uses real maple syrup for the sweetener that I'm going to try out. In addition to that, I'm making a lemon sour cream pie, and a coconut cream. (OK--Erik may have married me for my coconut cream pie. His family asks me to bring it to all of their functions. But--the truth is, it's the easiest pie to make EVER in all of creation. Takes 15 minutes, tops. If you want the recipe--let me know. I'm to lazy to type it up if no one wants it.)

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sliding down the slide together.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
As I sit here, she's yelling at me, "Mom! Draw me a beautiful meadow! With flowers! RIGHT NOW!"

A little it of this...A little bit of that.

As a general rule--I try to avoid blogging about blogging. It just seems kind of mentally masturbatory, and also, umm, kind of lame. However, I've hit a bit of a blogging rut, and need to write about it--just kind of get it out there so I can quit struggling with it.

It's a question of audience. I try and help my students to understand that they must consider audience when writing. In fact, every year, we do an audience assignment. Each student imagines a scenario in which he/she has a super hot date--but no wheels. The student then writes 2 letters: one to a best friend, and one to a grandmother, trying to persuade him/her to loan his/her car to the student for the night. We discuss what information is left in--and left out depending on the audience. We talk about how the word choice is different--as is the tone, and the voice.

So now, here I am with this blog--and I'm really really struggling with audience. At first--my audience really was me. I just wrote stuff about me--about Sophie--and what I wrote, I wrote for an audience of one. Then, enter my Philly girls. So sweet--so funny--and now when I write, I can't help but write with a mind toward them reading it. Here comes Kods, Katy, and Mandy, then the Seattle bunch, plus a couple of Utah pals, my husband, and a handful of others here and there, and suddenly--blog paralysis. I can't really write for this audience. People I know--people I don't know--people I kind of know. Some who I want to think I'm witty and caustic. Some who I want to think I'm a decent but unconventional mom. Some who already know me, and just think I'm in need of a good mental enema. And come to think of it, why should I want anyone to think anything about me really? I was reading Sophie "Horton Hears a Who" last night--and came to realize that my blog is my way of yelling--in my little Who voice, "I am here! I am here! I am here!"

So, audience. I love you--really I do, and quite frankly, I'm kind of dumbfounded and grateful that you even read my blog (Sorry to be having a Sally Fields moment) but from here on out, I'm mentally dismissing you. My last few posts have felt so stilted to me--the voice in them doesn't sound like my voice, and I think it's because I've been trying to hard to sound like what I perceive other people's perception of me to be. And that's just plain silly. (You know like those fights with your husband when he thinks you might be mad at him, so he acts kind of stand off-ish, and so you get kind of mad and start making little comments, and then he gets more mad, and then soon you're having this kind of phantom fight about nothing at all other than what you each thought the other was thinking that you weren't thinking at all?)

So--enough meta-blog-nition.

Sophie Gene has been bringing home the MOST annoying things from school, my least favorite of which is, "You're not coming to my party." Oooh. This one totally pisses me off for 3 main reasons. The first is, she says this to me when she's mad at me, and I'm like "Oh yea? Well sista--any party you have will be put on BY me so you'd better believe that I'll be there." Secondly, I KNOW that some little shit at school said this to her, and for 3 year olds, the "You're not coming to my party" is tantamount to "Fuck off and die." She told me that Alexia said this to her, and today, when I pick her up, I'm going to find out who this Alexia is and possibly have a little chat with her. Finally--if I know Soph, she's already said this to a few other kids, and that, well, that is just not ok. I gave her a couple of time outs this weekend for saying "You're not coming to my party" (after we had discussed that it is not a nice thing to say and that I don't want her to ever say it) and maybe that will help. Sigh.

The second most annoying phrase we're dealing with is "I'm telling on you!" To which I answer, "Who are you going to tell?" This TOTALLY pisses her off, and she says, "I'M TELLING ON YOU!!!" and so I say, "Who are you going to tell?" and then she just kind of shrieks and throws herself on the floor.

I also got my first "I HATE you!" from Soph this weekend. I believe the conflict was over Eggo waffles, and the present lack of them in your house. This, combined with "You're not my friend anymore" and I'm about ready to quit my job and not allow her to ever talk to anyone under the age of 20 ever again.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
We play a Sleeping Beauty game where I have to be asleep, and she comes and wakes me up with a kiss. It's quite sweet.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Really--what do you do about this awful stuff they learn at day care? I just have no freakin' idea.

I meme stolen from Down Under

Suffering through a bout of insomnia and the blahs. Haven't posted for a while--so I stole this from the underachiever.

FIRSTS

First best friend: Jessica Paraskevas. 5th grade. She was 1/2 Greek and 1/2 Mexican. When I slept over at her house, I never had any idea what anyone was saying--but the food was great!
First Car: Red Volkswagen Bug--purchased when I was 17 for $500 from shady character named Ramon, who(m?) I later dated, and who later stole my dining room table. Oh. The car was hot-wired because the ignition was broken--so he said. That thing was such a piece of shit. The seats were coming apart--and the stuff inside them gave me a rash, so I had to line them with towels. Poor Ernest (the car) was later crashed by a guy I dated for about 10 seconds. I think his name was John.
First kiss: TJ Young--summer between 7th and 8th grade. Mostly noses bumping-although I think our lips actually did touch for a second or two.
First real kiss: What was his name? Dillan I think. 8th grade
First makeout: Dillan again. To Phil Collins "Groovy Kind of Love." (Incidentally--my first, and last, cat fight happened just after when his girlfriend punched me.)
First big trip: UT to Santa Barbara with Mand. Lovely hazy memories if delicious strawberry waffles, clove cigarettes, waking up stuck to the kitchen floor. GT.
First time skiing/Snowboarding: 9th grade at Sugar Bowl with Kristi. Her mom was Danish--still learning English. She (the mom) kept saying "What a holy cow!"
First concert: Sawyer Brown. I was filling in for Mandy on a blind date that she either didn't want to go on, or was too sick to go in. Mandy--did we tell him I was me, or did I pretend to be you?
First Alcoholic Drink: Kaluah. House party in 9th grade. I was sure I was going to hell.
First ticket violation: Freshman year of college. Just for speeding--but could have been for much more if I had been pulled over 15 minutes earlier. Whew.
First job: Frozen yogurt jockey at "Sounds Yummy." Sounds Yummy yogurt was next door to Sounds Easy video. I personally thought it sounded like a brothel.
First date: 15--with Kelly Yturralde--my first real boyfriend. My parents let me break the Mormon "no dating until 16" rule because we were moving from CA to UT. Fancy Italian restaurant, walk on the beach. A nice memory


LASTS

Last car ride: Walmart and back today
Last kiss: Hubby--last night
Last time you cried: 2 weeks ago Friday.
Last movie watched: Scooby Doo and the Witches Ghost
Last food you ate: French Toast
Last love: Erik
Last temptation: Christmas pillows at Walmart (didn't buy them)
Last item bought: Other than food--a humidifier. Soph is super stuffy and sleepless lately
Last annoyance: People not calling when they are going to be late--or not show up at all
Last time wanting to die: 1 year ago
Last alcoholic drink: Box of wine baby!
Last concert: Dave Matthews--4 years ago
Last phone call: Play date who hasn't called and is late and may not show up
Last friend you added on MYSPACE: Huh?


CURRENTS

Current Best Friend(s): Kodi, Jennifer, Katy, Mandy, Erik
Current Car: Subaru Forester--silver 2004
Current love: Erik and Sleep
Current drink: Water
Current activity: Just spent 3 hours finding and sizing pictures of Janzen and Sophie to put into a 5 hole picture frame. Spent WAY too much time on that.
Current annoyance: Sophie saying, "I'm going to tell on you!"
Current mood: Tired

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Playing the bongo drums together

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
See "current annoyance"

I arrived home from the rendezvous with Janzen's mom about an hour ago. (He lives 3 hours away. E goes all the way up and back on Fridays. I drive him home on Sundays--but his mom meets me 2/3ds of the way.) Soph was/is making cookies at Grandma's house with Aunty K, and Erik has gone for a jog.

Folks--this has left me, (wait for it; wait for it...) IN THE HOUSE COMPLETELY ALONE!!! And what's more, Erik cleaned while I was driving. So here I am, alone, in a reasonably clean house.

I don't think this has ever happened before.

For the first 20 minutes, I was pretty dazed. I wandered from room to room, munching on a cinnamon Eggo (no butter--no syrup. I'm back on the phentermine and trying to fit into at least 2 pairs of pants.) and just kind of looking around. Then I played some Zam Bee Zee. After that, I put away a little laundry, but now--I'm stumped.

I think one of the hardest things about being a mom, for me at least, is never having time alone. Sure--she naps (sometimes) but even during naptime a mom is "on call." I know that someday--too soon--she'll be over at her friend's house all the time, and the last place she'll want to be is with me, but lately, I feel like I'm a Siameese twin.

Before Soph, I absolutely relished my time alone. I would have listed is as a need, not a want if asked. Now that I don't get it very often, when it comes around, I, obviously, don't really know what to do with it. It's like the Calvin and Hobbs when it's Sunday--and C says something like--"Come on! We have to fit all the fun in that we can before tomorrow!" I find myself alone and it's like--ok, dust something? Veg on the couch? Blog? Read? I don't want to waste the precious minutes--but on the other hand--maybe I that's exactly what I should do with them.

Of course--not having time to be alone has created this little piece of crazy in my brain. It's like there's this little caged animal growling--LET ME OUT!-- and when it gets really bad--it bites. Particularly at E or Sophie or anyone else who is unfortunate enough to put his/her fingers near the cage. (Dumb similie--but as close as I could get.)

Once upon a time--when I found myself alone--I'd hurry outside to have a smoke--but for some reason, I seem to have quit. The last several times I lit a cigarette, I smoked about 1/3rd, and then thought--this is kind of gross--and put it out. I haven't bought a pack in weeks. (Don't get me wrong--when drinking or truly annoyed, I'm sure to have a cigarette--they just seem to have been worked out of my day to day.)

So folks--I'm off to do...something. Of course, the minute I start, Katy will bring Sophie home.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Thanks to Karaoke Revolution (don't worry--I won't blog about it, but it is THE BOMB!) Sophie is learning the words to "I Love Rock and Roll." How cool is that?

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I've said it before--I'll say it again. It's so easy to loose track of the part of you that isn't the mom.

Soph just said to me: You're a freakin' pain in the ass.

This after I picked every last pea out of her bowl of alphabet soup. I give up. It's Friday night, and I'd like nothing better than to be alone, with my book and my pajamas. Alas, even that is not to be.

She and Jimmy are having serious sibling rivalry issues tonight--and she screeches everytime he even looks at her, and just now she smacked the shit out of him with her pink fairy wand.

I need a vacation.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
French braids and overalls (on her--not me)

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The hours and the pay suck.

FOILED AGAIN!!!

Drat! Bugger! Poop! Bullocks!

No karaoke today. The GAMES are here but the game BUNDLES won't be here until tomorrow. I know. Who gives a fuck. Unfortunately, I, a 30 year old English teacher and mother, CAN NOT WAIT FOR MY VIDEO GAME!!!!

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Built in reason to leave work a little early

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph drew chicken pox on her arms and legs, with marker (washable--thank Jesus) this morning right before I had to take her to day care. Cute--but time consuming to scrub off.

Watch out for flying pigs!

(Pretty boring post today.)

I just returned from the local video game store. (Are they still called video games?) There I dropped sixty bucks. SIXTY BUCKS PEOPLE! Was I buying a gift? No. I was prepaying for my copy of Karaoke Revolution Party. (Actually--I prepaid for the KRP bundle--it includes a new microphone because one of mine broke.)

We have 2 video game stores in town. I discovered today that one of them totally sucks ass, and the other is actually quite nice. Here's how the conversation went between me and 10 year old boy working the counter at the ass sucking game place.

me: (Looking around at fellow customers--mostly 14 year old boys, thinking, damn, I am completely out of my element here.) "Ummm. Hi. I was hoping to pick --Sophie, put that down!-- up a copy of the new Karaoke Revolution for Playstation 2."
kid: Hmm. We don't have that yet.
me: Well, --Sophie! Come here!--I know that it comes out today.
kid (rolls eyes and consults ratty stapeled bunch of papers): Oh. It ships today. It doesn't come out until tomorrow.
me: Oh. Can I reserve one?
kid: no
me: Oh. Well can I--Sophie! One! Two! Three!-- special order one?
kid: No. We only take special orders 10 or more days before the game comes out.
me: Oh. Well do you know if you are getting any?
kid: No. We don't do the ordering.
me: Well, that was pretty useless.

I did actually say that last sentence. Normally, I try to be nice to retail clerks, but really. Enough is enough. So I called the non-ass sucking place. Conversation.

me: Hi. I was wondering if you are getting any of the new Karaoke Revolution games in tomorrow?
nice man: You bet!
me: Oh! Can I reserve a copy?
nice man: Sure. I'm really sorry, but because it's so popular, you'll have to come down to the store to reserve it. Can I give you directions?
me: No. I'll be right down.

5 minutes later, at the store.

me: Hi. I'd like to reserve a copy of Karaoke Revolution please.
nice man: Oh. I must have just talked to you on the phone. (To Sophie) Hi sweetie! Are you helping your mom today? (To me) Ok... (Continues to be very polite, helpful, and informative.)

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sophie's new favorite movie is Mary Poppins. I hadn't seen it in YEARS! It's so good.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I treated us to breakfast out at IHOP today. She threw a fit until I let her drink the creamers. I'm talking 8 or 9 of them.

I couldn't make this stuff up.

A little background info...

1. It's a well know fact that I have a mouth like a truck driver. In fact, I could probably outcurse a truckdriver if given the opportunity. Lately, I've been trying very hard to watch my mouth in front of Soph, and as a result, have been using the word "freakin'" a freakin' lot. My little parrot has incorporated "freakin'" into her vocabulary, and uses it almost as much as her mother.

2. Sophie LOVES creams. She calls suntan lotion "sun cream." She always wants to use my face cream. When we go to my mom's house, she loves to poke around in the bathroom drawers looking for different kinds of creams to use and sample.

3. Sophie still wears pull-ups for bed time and nap time. Right now she has a bit of a diaper rash.

So--I came in the living room, and Soph was busily scratching at her nether region. I said, "Sophie--are you ok? Is your bottom sore?" Her answer: "Gosh Mom. I need some freakin' cooter cream!"

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Having stories like this to save up and embarrass the shit out of her when she's a teenager.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
5:00 a.m. wake up calls--2 days in a row now. It's the weekend for Christ's sake!

I am from...

This as an assignment I gave my students that I did along with them. You start out with some listing—family memories, fears, triumphs, likes, loves, etc. Then, create a kind of a personal “found poem,” beginning each line with the phrase “I am from.”

I am from...


I am from pink spongy curlers in my hair every Saturday night, for princess hair on Sunday.
I am from days in the car—writing letters on crackers in squeeze cheese, playing and fighting and sitting.
I am from job lists and sharing a room and "borrowing" my sisters clothes.
I am from salt smells and waves and fog; and naked red rock and juniper and sage.
I am from The Mists of Avalon, The Red Tent, The Blue Sword, and Dragonsinger.
I am from a religion that spread guilt like cheep margarine.
I am from the thrill and the burn, the laughter and hunger and sometimes the truth.
I am from long sticky nights on the couch, filled with kisses, Cheers and Taxi.
I am from stony silence, and fighting it out, and talking it out, and loving it out.
I am from stretch marks and breast pumps and diapers and a baby bouncing on my hip.
I am from Funshine Bear and big girl panties and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
I am from South Beach and Atkins and Phentemine and bulimia
I am from crying with Mandy, playing with Katy, singing with Kodie, dancing with Jennifer, and regretting with Kelli.
I am from apostrophes, settings, topic sentences, and make-up work.
I am from driving with Janzen, reading to Sophie, and Erik holding my hand.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Being introduced at day-care by Sophie as if I'm a movie star. "This is MY mom!"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Somewhere she picked up "You'll never get away with this!" It's what she says to me when I give her a time out, try to put her to bed, or comb her hair. It's SO HARD NOT TO LAUGH, but it also really pisses me off.

YYYAAAWWWNNN!

November makes me so sleepy. I just want to crawl into bed and hibernate until spring--leaving winter to its own cold, grey, miserable devices. Add to that the remnants of a cold, and the recent time change, and I can barely drag my ass from the bedroom to the couch.

Case in point--this morning. Soph woke up at her usual bright and early hour--6:15, except today, my clock said 5:15 when she came tarting in. For the first time, I turned on her shows, put her on the couch with a blanket, and went back to bed.

Big mistake.

I forgot about the Halloween candy. Soph came in my bedroom a couple times, asking "Will you open this?" and I groggily did so, not realizing that I was opening a package of smarties, a mini butterfinger, and a reeces peanut butter cup.

When I came into the livingroom, Sophie was sitting in the middle of a pile of candy, happily eating her way through the stuff she could open herself. There was evidence of her frustration with the candies she couldn't open--a kit-kat wrapper that had been chewed until the chocolate began to ooze through. Sigh.

In addition to forgetting the candy, I forgot the pile of clean laundry sitting on the couch. Luckily only a few things ended up chocolate covered.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Having a reason to get out of bed

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
While rooting around in the laundry this morning--Sophie discovered a new "backpack." So far, she's refused to take it off, even when offered other more appropriate backpack options. Yes. It's a new fashion trend--the panty-pack.

Sorry. I couldn't pass this one up.

Your Boobies' Names Are: Siegfried and Roy

Get your own Boobie Names

Hmm. The left one is a bit bigger than the right one.

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