Coloring Bertie

I thought he did such a great job coloring Bertie, so I wanted to share.

Parental Pride

The Art Class Egg Hunt

He impatiently awaits the starting bell

Keeping an eye on the prize

CHARGE!!

Homanah! Homanah! Homonyms!

On Thursday I took Zorro to the park. He wanted to take off his shoes and socks. So as I helped him take them off, I say, "Oh, you want to go bare foot."

He corrects me with, "No, I don't want to have a bear foot. I want people's foot."

Reflections from Art Class

Sometimes I wish I had a magic zapper finger. I could point it at really stupid parents and make it so they couldn't have any more children. But then that still leaves me with the problem--them raising the kids they do have.

Crap.

Quiz for those who like to quiz

You know how people are always sending and answering those all important, personal questions? Well, I just read one today that stated "This may just be the most random survey you've ever taken!!" and have cut and paste a few of the more unusual questions. The responses are mine. If you want to play along, answer a few (or all depending on how much time you have on your hands). Here we go:

1. What is your best friend's Mom's name? Mom has a best friend?

2. What your fave type of cheese? Cheddar

3. Who was the hottest teacher you ever had? Someone had a hot teacher??? JEALOUS! None of mine were even lukewarm. No offense.

4. Have you ever made out in a movie theater? Yes, who the hell hasn't? And if you haven't... LOSER!

5. What body part do you wash first? My hair--on my head (you are so dirty)

6. Do you have any piercings? just my ears so far

7. What's your fave childhood movie? I'm changing this question to childhood movies that made me bawl: Charlotte's Web, Old Yeller, Dumbo, Bambi...what gives?!

8. Do you have an innie or an outtie? innie if I'm skinny

9. What's your favorite flavored Pringles? I'd rather eat Lays. Then Doritos. BUT, if I had to pick a Pringle, it would be sour cream and onion.

10. Have you ever been tied up? Does in traffic count? If not, then no. At least nothing that comes to mind at the moment.

11. What was the worst thing you ever got grounded for? I don't know. I wasn't the grounding type. I was a strange kid who grew into a strange adult. I don't think you can call it grounding if I enjoyed being alone in my room reading a good book.

12. . Have you ever been to a gay bar? Yes...And so have you Alwyn!

13. Have you ever had friends with benefits? You mean like with a car or money?

14. Is there one thing all of your love interests have had in common? They had a Y chromosome.

15. Did you french kiss before you were 16? Yes, but it would have been nice to have been warned in advanced. I was sure surprised to find a tongue down my throat.

16. Have you ever been cow-tipping or snipe-hunting? no but I caught a jackalope once.

17. What was your childhood nickname? Stump (The unmentioned 8th dwarf)

18. Have you ever peeked in the opposite sexes room with binoculars late at night? Isn't this illegal?

19. Name something you do when you're alone that you wouldn't do in front of others? Play spoons on my naked boobs while farting to the Mickey Mouse Theme Song. Oh, "wouldn't do." Scratch that. I'll have to think. Let me get back to you.

20. What is your favorite boardgame from childhood?Again, LOSER! Who liked playing boardgames when you could be out on your bmx bike?

21. How many drinks does it take before you get drunk? One is enough. But for a really good time...

22. Have you ever sniffed an animal's butt? HUH? That's a little personal, now.

23. Have you ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Like a chinese snow pea? Or an Italian zucchini?

24. Have you ever gotten caught farting while on a date? Not on a date. Guess you missed that blog.

25. Have you ever played naked twister? Board game! Bored game.

26. Have you ever been drunk at work/school? no

27. How many Jasons do you know? 2

The Burning Question

My son and I were at Walmart this weekend. Upon entering we were informed Spiderman was going to be there in about 10-20 minutes. They were doing free photos with Spidey.

We had nothing better to do (dad was home sick), so Zorro and I went to see him. I never thought about it, but I guess Spidey is a pretty shady character to look at for the uninitiated.

Although Zorro has willingly hugged just about every masked creature we've run across, from Sparky the Fire Dog to Goofy, Zorro could not be coaxed into doing much more than offer Spidey a wave of his hand. He was absolutely not interested in getting any closer to Spidey, more than content to view him from afar.

Later in the car, he asked me, "Why does Spiderman have no eyes?"

Kids Concepts Playdate

The elusive yellow dolphin is spotted
frolicking in a sea of colorful orbs

We’re going on a mission
Start the countdown
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Everyone to rocket,
rev it up now
RRRRRRRRR
We’re going on a trip
In our favorite rocket ship
Zooming through the sky
Little einsteins

You Boob Tube

Beauty is all around us. So is humor.

Today I decided I needed to get back to exercising PITA or not. I turned on the television and got on my mini stepper and began searching the guide for something to watch. Scanning the choices, I landed on Maury. Every once in a while, I'll watch. Come on--admit it, you watch it too. It's hard to resist Jack Hanna and a baby white tiger.

This program was a repeat. How I missed it in January I'll never know. (This was said very sarcastically, BTW.) It asks the question: "Did my man cheat on me because I have one leg?"

Yeah. He did. And the half-brain thing probably contributed too.

So I opted not to watch Maury. I watched Dr. Keith instead..."Fat and Happy in Hollywood."

Ah well...at least I got my exercise in.

Discovered the hard way

I am not ready for slides.

Ass pain takes a long time to heal.

Scrambled to Hell

Yesterday was the day from HELL!

Remember the scrambled eggs? Well, as I cooked it, I did the erroneous thing of letting him watch television. After breakfast, he wanted to do his Disney Preschool Time online, which I agreed to.

It all went down hill after that. He didn't want to do any paperwork, preferring to sit on the couch and do nothing instead. It was a pure power struggle. I let him sit there, and just reminded him he was on the couch because he'd rather do that then do a few papers.

Thank God he eventually capitulated. Paperwork done.

But, the power struggles continued. And I think the little bugger has it in his head that mom's a loving pushover. He thinks cute will get him back in my good graces. He has yet to learn that if mom's not talking much and cleaning the house like a madwoman--things are not going to be in your favor.

When his daddy got home, he was not much better. After a few more incidents, dad put him on the couch. The final straw was the pillow with my son's saliva on it. When asked why he licked it, his response was because daddy hadn't been watching him. Daddy marched him upstairs for a speedy bath and teeth brushing and put him to bed. About 45 minutes earlier than normal.

I had told Zorro I hoped he would be better today. If not, we would be going to our park playdate, and he would be sitting on the bench just watching the other kids play with his toys.

I can be a sadistic hardass. Just try me.

Hopefully no more on this to come.

Suess got it Right

Ever since Zorro was a baby, he has not liked eggs. We tried giving it to him prepared in different ways--scrambled, boiled--to no avail. Whether it's the taste or texture, the result has been the same. He gags.

So after reading a story the other night, he got it in his head he wanted to also eat scrambled eggs for breakfast. He woke up saying, "scrambled eggs."

I made him scrambled eggs. On his plate was a piece of toast (buttered with jelly) and 1/2 a slice of bacon. He tasted the eggs and pronounced it good.

After breakfast, everything was eaten--except the eggs, which he now said was not good. (He usually tries something and says it's good and then refuses to eat any more, so we know it really wasn't.)

Green eggs or not, he does not like it. And now he knows for sure. Maybe he will try again in a few years. Are eggs an acquired taste?

Trip to the Dentist

On Saturday my husband and I noticed my son's front tooth was turning gray. About 2 weeks ago, his tooth had run smack into a little girl's forehead. She was fine. My son cried up a storm for a bit, then we promptly forgot about it. Until it changed colors.

I took him to the dentist, knowing very well there was little they could do about it. Still, it's best to be prudent. So, we went. According to the dentist, it was a wait and see thing. If severe damage was done, a root canal would be in order. He could have also damaged the permanent tooth that showed up in the x-ray, touching the injured tooth. Apparently, it could be months to a year before you may see any damage in an injured tooth. And since this was his second injury (the first was a chip), he needed to be careful not to do further damage. It is apparently prevalent in thumb suckers, their teeth jut out making them more prone to getting hit.

I explained to my son what the doctor said. I wanted him to be aware and just try to be a little more careful. As careful as an active 3 year old could possibly be.

So we go to Kmart so he can window shop (toys), and he sees some kids running to their mom who is standing by us. He puts his hands out in front to brace himself and hollers, "Nooooo!" Of course everyone probably thinks he is fruity as he procedes to tell them why they cannot hit him and what his dentist has said (something I can only understand).

At least by Jove, I know he's got it. Even if it's just for the moment.

For my Fans

Since some of you have asked...I'm posting a snippet of my current chapter (chapter 4). Kim finally does it. WAY TO GO KIM!! BTW, this is a sex scene if you haven't figured it out so if you don't want to read it, avert your eyes now!

“Okay?” he asked concerned, gritting through his teeth. I nodded, nipping his neck. In a rush, my breath left as he filled me, sinking deep, all the way within me. My body strove to accommodate his dimensions, bombarded by the onslaught of stimulants. He withdrew, causing me to wrap my legs around him to hold him.

I forced him back, driving my hips up to meet him. He pressed down, and I felt a stunning jolt. I was swiftly discovering all the things I liked—the play of muscles beneath my hands, the fullness of him, the lightning sensations rippling low in my womb as he undulated. I clenched my inner walls experimentally.

“Witch,” he hissed. I was feeling unbelievably powerful and singularly female.

“I prefer ‘sorceress,’” I said tartly, clenching tightly once more. He dropped his head, kissing me with fierce abandonment. Our exchange turned frantic as the stakes were swiftly anted.

Open more than your eyes

"Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it."
Confucius

B and E

The boys, "B" and "E"

at the park

Move over Bob the Builder.

There's a new crew in town.

They are calling themselves

Chicago Tallytoady.

That's Spanish, apparently, for something.

Why I am a Dog Person

I got this in an email. I am a dog person, and well...I have nothing better to write about, AND this is just plain funny. Even dogs understand the Secret! :P

"Excerpts from a Dog's Diary"
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

"Excerpts from a Cat's Diary"
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards! There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...

Speed, I am Speed

Last night while we were putting our son to bed, he says to us, pointing to some toys on his bookshelf, "May I have that so I won't be missing daddy?"

Uh, no.


Damn. That kid is quick.

PITA

So, I did the laundry, five loads yesterday.

As I was carrying the newly washed, dried, and folded clothes down the stairs, I slipped. Not one of those slips where you slide down a few steps. I did one of those banana peel slips where you go airborne. I completely missed about 3 steps, landing full force on my sacrum, basket and all.

I had to stay there for a minute to work through the pain. Luckily my son was taking his nap, so I could do my suffering alone. I tried to reposition myself to make sure all was in working order. My fears were not that I had broken my tail bone. I was hoping I didn't damage my spine or discs.

Once I got up, I attempted to carry the basket upstairs to the bedroom. The first effort told me this wasn't going to happen. So I attempted again, carrying half the items. I went back for the rest of the basket. Then decided to leave the rest for my husband to tackle when he came home. If I had, at the very least, shifted my SI out of place, walking up and down the steps was just going to make matters worse.

I moved slowly the rest of the day, certainly not by choice, although I am glad I couldn't move fast with the pain I felt. Standing and doing the dishes was not a pleasant experience, either. I ended up on the couch with a heating pad under my ass for a few hours.

My awkward movements reminded me of when I was heavy in pregnancy. It was that kind of pressure but with the addition of pain thrown in. I couldn't even bend over to wash my feet in the shower. I had to hold on to the walls of the stall for support and lift my foot up to meet my hand. Everything got washed. And as of last night I had no visible signs of injury...not even bruising (yes, I checked!).

So this morning, I'm feeling better than I thought I would. Much less stiffer than I expected. The pain has decreased, and I should be able to function rather normally.

I don't think I'll be doing much exercise today. I got a P.I.T.A. as my excuse. What's yours?!

On our walk yesterday

X marks the spot.

Beauty is all around us.

Just stop and take a look.

Marble Art

It is Genetic!

I was putting my son to bed last night. He watched me while I spoke to him. Then, he asked as he pointed to my face, "Why you have cracks on your eyes? Is that from being old?"

Three years old and already noticing wrinkles!! WTH!

After tucking him in, I ran down to find out if my husband had taught my son anything new. As I am relaying the encounter, my husband is laughing as he denies any involvement.--Any reference to the wife being "old" is funny.

So, I conclude...It is Genetic!

Back to the Drawing Board

I spoke to my husband at lunch. Roo and Lumpy did not work. Apparently while my husband was getting his lunch out of the fridge to take to work, the door to my son's room opened.

The little guy was up again wanting to say farewell to his daddy.

New plan: Little guy to stay in bed. Big guy will come into little guy's room every morning to tell him goodbye, will even wake him up if he's sleeping.

Either little guy will get tired of this whole thing and tell daddy to quit. Or we continue this until we get tired of this.

Roo, Lumpy, Bed

Despite the events surrounding the dog, we wanted to make sure our son didn't wake up crying at 4:30 am. We carefully explained that it wasn't the thing to do. Daddy would not be going to work and he, my son, was not to get up crying and come into mommy's room. Daddy was going to be home. He was to wait in bed for daddy to wake him up for breakfast.

Saturday: it worked. No crying. We could have slept in...but didn't because we are early birds and complete dorks.

We decided to reinforce this by getting him a stuffed animal. I knew he loved Roo and Lumpy (a Heffalump from a movie) so we went to the Disney store and discussed our plan with our son. The idea was that he had company in his bed. When daddy went to work, if he missed daddy he could talk to Roo and Lumpy. We would only get them if my son thought that would help him to not cry and miss daddy so much. He said "YES!" So we purchased both (they were small so 2 for $10.00) and held of giving it to him until Sunday night. It made it that much more exciting to get them.

We introduced Roo and Lumpy to Bunny, and they all became fast friends as they took their place next to my son beneath his blanket.

I'm happy to report no crying this morning. At least none that I am aware of. Yay!

"It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us."- Epicurus (341 - 270 BC) Greek philosopher.

Thank God for Visa

On Friday I took our dog, Lucy, to our vet for a blood test. Her seizure medication had been changed from phenobarbitol to KBr; she'd been completely weaned for 1 month. The vet wanted to check her bromide levels. I was back home by 11:00 and let Lucy briefly sniff and do her thing on the grassy area in front of our complex.

About 6:25 that evening, I was giving my son his bath. My husband came to get me. Lucy looked like she was having seizures. We traded, and I went downstairs and took her into my arms. I stayed with her for a while, absorbing the tremors that racked her 7 pound body. She seemed to calm, the abnormal shaking subsiding. I put her on her bed, and the awkward movements resumed. When a huge spasm took over her body, I put her in her carrier - she threw up - and grabbed her medical record. I took her out of the bag, carried her in my arms and the bag by its strap and drove to the Animal ER hospital.

The receptionist says, "What's the problem?"
I say, "She's seizing."
The receptionist says, "Seizing? Is that it?" like I was stupid to bring my dog in for such a minor thing. Then I realize she'd thought I'd said something entirely different.
I spoke again, "SEIZ-ING."
"Oh. I thought you said sneezing."

I filled out the paper work as Lucy was taken to be examined. Question after question were thrown at me. The doctor didn't think this was a seizure. They were fairly certain she got into poison - probably snail bait. I was baraged about where I had been (vet and grassy area), plants in my house (none). Did I know if snail bait was used out there? (no)

Lucy also threw up at the vet's. The doctor informed me they had given Lucy valium to try to stop her body tremors. She responded briedly, then the shaking returned. Next she was given a muscle relaxer. That worked which led the doctor to believe strongly it was best to treat her for poisioning, although he couldn't find evidence of snail bait granules in her vomit.

I agreed to treatment: IV, charcoal, and meds as needed. Then asked if he wanted to look through her vomit from home. I've watched enough CSI to think it may have come in handy. He thought it was a good idea too, so I gave them the dog carrier.

I went home. The doctor would call me in the morning. The wait is the hardest part. I couldn't think to type. I didn't feel up to reading. My mind was on her. So I knew of only one way to shut off my brain. I slept.

In the morning, I went to the store to get new dog food. Less than a week ago, I had switched her from Pedigree to Purina. My husband and I strongly suspected the change in diet triggered her condition. I know the doctor felt it was poison, but I was pretty sure she didn't get into anything during her visit to our regular vet. And, we were on the grassy area for maybe 2 minutes, during which time I didn't see her eating anything. Also, everyone walks their dogs there. Was it just my luck that the one time I did, she would get poisoned from there? I even found out that snail bait had not been used. The only thing put in that area was fertilizer which occurred 3 weeks ago. So, I paid for the Pedigree, hoping I'd get the chance to feed it to her.

My husband took my son out for the morning. I stayed home and waited for the doctor's call. I got the good news that she pulled through and was doing well. I hopped in my car and drove to bring her home. When she saw me, I was amazed. Lucy has a greeting she reserves just for my husband. It's a whimpering, whiny, "Where have you been all day? I've missed you so much. Let me tell you about it." I was on the receiving end this morning. "Where have you been? I didn't think you were ever coming back. I missed you so much. Don't leave me here. Do you have any idea what they did to me?"

We got home. I gave Lucy my face to lick so she could get it all out of her system. Then she settled into my lap and went to sleep.

$120 for the check up. $606 for the trip to ER. Doggy home and well--priceless.

One lump or two

Last October I came upon this sight. I started thinking maybe boys were preprogrammed to know this stuff--

--flagging doorknobs. Was this instinctual? After all, I've never showed him how to do this, nor has he seen anyone else do this. Funny how at 3 he came up with it.

Yesterday, we had a playdate at my home. One of the mommies is due to deliver in May. She was showing her belly to my son, explaining there was a baby inside.

He had no interest in the belly growth. His attention was fixed a bit higher. He was into the booby growth. He patted her breast.

We tried to redirect him to her belly and the baby within. He would touch it briefly, as if to humor us, then back up his hand went.

My son, one track minded, kept patting her breast. "What's this?" he kept saying as he patted it. "What's inside?"

I guess some things are instinctual--curiosity.

And in this case, he prefers 2 lumps over the one.

Hard to say goodbye

In the past two weeks or so, my son has been having some anxiety at nights. He asks if his daddy is going to work tomorrow, and if the answer is "yes" he makes sure to get all his goodbyes out. "Goodbye. Happy new year fifty-twozit. Goodbye. Mom, can you say goodbye to daddy? Goodbye. Happy new year fifty-twozit...." and his daddy and I try to make our escape as he continues his litany.

He is very insistent that I join him in his goodbyes to daddy. So I do, to humor him and to keep him calm so he can go to sleep. "Goodbye, daddy. Happy new year 95. Have a nice day at work. We'll see you when you get home." We tell him that he can call daddy in the morning if he wants to, trying to reassure him as we put him to bed.

For the last three mornings, we've been dealing with an addition to that issue. Just before my husband leaves in the morning - at 4:30ish - he calls out for one of us, and then starts crying if no one gets there in a certain amount of time. He wants to talk to daddy to tell him goodbye and give a kiss.

It makes me sad to think that my little boy already has so much on his mind, that he would be so worried about his daddy being gone he gets up crying. I know he must lie in bed worrying as he falls asleep so it's the first idea he grabs onto when he awakes. I'm not quite sure what to do other than to keep reassuring him. Hopefully this will be a hurdle he can get over quickly and easily.

Maybe I should get him a new toy.

* * * * * * * *

And the reference he makes to 52? He started saying it one day and we just shrugged it off. Kids make up a bunch of stuff. I finally asked him and he replied it's for McQueen. Uh, no...Mcqueen is 95. So I've been trying to teach him that it's 95. But fifty-twozit still sounds better.

About Last Night:
Spice it up and have fun at story time. Try reading to your child in a different voice. Plug your nose. Speak like Julia Childs. Pat your mouth as you talk to sound like an announcer. You, too, could make a 3 year old laugh like a loon. I even mimic a story on tape/cd, chiming when it's time to turn the page.

Does not Compute

A little blond bird told me she was having trouble posting a comment. Well, actually she unfairly accused me of rejecting her comment. As if!

Something screwy is Denmark/Blogger-land. I chose to moderate comments so random people couldn't just write *bleep bleep* stuff unless I felt it was appropriate. In the beginning the computer would read the accurate number of comments for me to approve. Then it began saying I had 1 comments where I could only see none. Yesterday it was up to three mysterious comments.

So, now I know that the mysterious comments which the computer says I do and don't have are really comments someone has written that disappeared in computer la-la land. Man! It must have been some good writing for the computer folks to horde it from me.

I heartily apologize if any of the missing posts were yours. I truly enjoy getting them (especially from you, you know who you are)! I've rechanged the settings so I hope that helps with the problem.

Last night:
My son was having his bubble bath. I blew bubbles (the kind you blow outside with the wand) onto his hand. Then I would "sneeze"..."AH! AH! AH! CHOO!" and the bubbles would disappear. My son was laughing hysterically. What can I say? Three year olds find me hilarious.

The New Do

Yes, you're at the right place. I felt like I needed a change and since my hair can only go Britney short, I thought it best I change my blog appearance.

Best part of last night:
Listening to the muted sounds of my husband reading to my son as I washed the dishes.

Who Cares?

The title caught my attention first, "Mummified body found in front of blaring TV." My first thought was humorous, like yeah, that would be so my husband. So I read the article, and I was horrified. I watched the news footage, and I felt sick. How horrible to die in your own home and have no one even bother to check on you for over a year.

I'm trying not to be critical or judgemental. But, I feel angry and so saddened.

I can only hope his story forces readers to take a look inward and ask what are they doing to contribute to this social apathy. And how can we change?

Mother Wisdom

Quotations from Mother Teresa:

• If you judge people, you have no time to love them.
• Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are endless.
• Love is doing small things with great love.
• Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.
• Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person.

Life is beautiful

I was inspired

by a wonderful photographer

to dust off my camera.

My skills are sadly lacking. But, I hope you see what I see.

Life is beautiful.

Something old, something new

Kim, your compliment led me to search, and I learned.

Thank you.

According to Dr. Frank Gaetano Morales, Ph.D., "Yoga is a process of spiritual unfoldment. Yoga is a 5000 year old system of self-knowledge and God-realization the aim of which is unleashing the full hidden potential of every aspect of the human person."

I didn't know I was doing yoga.

Valentine's Day

Celebration of Love

I am grateful I can dance and twirl with my son (and he loves twirling with me).

I am grateful I can run and race my son for the Piston cup.

I am grateful I can stay at home, shower my son with love and watch him grow.

I am grateful for a husband who can cook and does.

I am grateful for a husband who looks forward to spending time with me.

I am grateful I have a loving husband who understands me (most of the time).

I am grateful I have friends who appreciate, support, and make me laugh.

I am grateful I like with who I am on the inside (and the woman looking back at me in the mirror ain't too shabby either).

Life is sweet

I did a little baking last week. I made chocolate cream cheese cupcakes (low fat) and cocoa rice crispy treats. I divided them up and dropped them off to my neighbors.

On Saturday my husband and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. The oven fans were whirling so we couldn't hear much outside that room.

I was wearing gloves, shredding a turkey leg. My son comes in to ask if he could play with the "ding dong." My response was, "WHAT?!" We don't use that word to describe body parts and I was a bit startled and confused. Then he says that Lucy, our dog, was barking.

It clued me in. Although we hadn't heard anything, someone was probably at the door for Lucy to bark. And "ding dong" meant the doorbell.

So I took off my gloves and went to check. By the time I had gotten there, no one was there. But, they had left me a bouquet of flowers.

12:58 Just wanted to add. After I received flowers, my son decided his daddy needed flowers. So at the grocery store, we picked up a bouquet of purple flowers which he proudly gave to my sick husband. How quickly the little ones understand the power of giving. It's a perfect example of how love is spread. Remember "pay it forward". It comes back to you in ways you never expect.

Give. It doesn't have to hurt. :)

The Secret

I don't know if you watched Oprah's show about the Secret. It's the title of a book and dvd. I haven't read the book or seen the dvd, but I've been practicing the philosophy.

It's something I've been trying to live my life by. I'm trying to learn to live my best life. And we all have the potential to do just that. I believe it. I truly believe it is in your grasp.

We must remember to be grateful. That is one of the secrets. Each person, each experience provides us with something to be grateful for, something we need to learn from. Take a step back. Search your heart and find them. Even in the worst of times, we can learn something.

Nourish your spirit. That's what this is about--letting go of the bad so the good can come into your lives. We are beautiful and deserving.

We must find our strengths and know the powerful person that we are and learn to love ourselves. When you come to fully appreciate yourself so will everyone else. They will have no choice.

FYI

While I sit at my computer, doing my best to avoid actual writing, I came across a blog. More specifically, the blog's guest blogger.

Any Anthony Bourdain fans? Any FoodTv fans?

You may enjoy the blog. I know I did.

Be Strong

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will.” - Mahatma Ghandi

On Cheating Husbands

You know I love quotes. From time to time (especially when I lack things to say), I'll be sharing them with you.

“When a woman steals your husband, there is no better revenge than to let her keep him.” – Anonymous

Not Just O-Kay Kisses

Last night the television was on. My son saw a commercial for Kay's Jeweler. He then turns to me and sings "Every kiss is o-o-kay." And plants a kiss on my cheek.

From you babe, every kiss is more than okay.

The Best Part of Blogging

Not only do I get to write what I think and feel, I get to read your responses. It's a win-win for me.

And damn! Some of you are freaking funny!

"Full!" Yes, if I ate a huge amount and all of it in one sitting!

Stitches: I have stitches under my chin when I was a wee one from falling off a swing. I had a recent trip to the ER last year requiring stitches in my thumb when a knife slipped while I was in the kitchen separating frozen salmon patties. And I have stitches by my hoo-ha from the whole giving birth thing. TMI? Ah, too late now. No hockey incidents or cat fights. But there was this one time, I was in the ring with Couture...

Hey, anyone else think Don Frye looks like Magnum P.I.? A little?

And in case you were wondering, I have been known to watch a little UFC, a little Pride. It all started with Gracie way back when I used to play darts at Players. Years and years ago. Before 2 of the stitching episodes.

I don't care much for big talkers. You know, the trash talking Muhammed Ali types.

I like guys who go in and get the job done.

Let's leave it at that.

Unanswered Prayers

I have never had a broken bone or sprain or dislocation. Just stitches. I always wanted to have a cast. Get my friends to sign it.

*sigh*

I was never that cool.

Iron Chef

If you've ever watched Iron Chef, you'll be familiar with this quote by Anthelme Brillat-Savarin:

"Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are."

So on Saturday I ate:

• Chinese: fried noodles, orange chicken, chicken with mushroom
• Southern/Soul: collard greens, bread pudding
• Thai: som tum (Papaya salad)
• Korean: kim chee (spicy pickled cabbage)
• Italian: pepperoni pizza
• and a salad of green lettuce leaves.

I wonder what he would say am I?

Daily Lessons

"Sometimes being brave means just being yourself"

quoted from Bear (Disney's Preschool Online: "Braver Behavior" lesson)

Starbucking

It has been pointed out to me that someone is currently visiting all the Starbucks in the world. He is also releasing the DVD in April 2007 called Starbucking.

Great! That's just Starbucking Great! My story! Nano!!

Now what to do?! How can I fix my story?


Oh, and if you should want to read about with him, Winter, and his Starbucking ways:

http://www.palmbeachpost.com/news/content/accent/epaper/2007/01/21/a1d_starbucks_guy_0121.html?cxtype=rss&cxsvc=7&cxcat=2

One Day

It was a great day.

We had lunch at McDonald's, and he got a red hummer toy. He ate two grape tomatoes, 4 chicken nuggets, french fries, milk, and a cookie.

We held hands in the kitchen and danced to country music. I twirled him back and forth as we danced and laughed.

We made smoothies together. He added the yogurt, the milk, the bananas he cut himself, and the raspberry in syrup. I whirled it together, and we split our creation. I said, "Oishii!" And taught him what it meant in Japanese.

He "washed" dishes beside me, having fun pouring soapy water through a funnel.

We put together his new 101 Dalmations puzzle which we found at the Salvation Army for 50 cents.

We played preschool, Disney's online preschool (so awesome!).

He got a Rolo and later some mini M&Ms for going shi-shi and NOT complaining about it.

He took a bubble bath.

I read him a story starring Mickey Mouse and Goofy (that I also got from the Salvation Army).

Then daddy and I kissed him goodnight.

I wonder if my son will remember.

Screw You!

While Zorro was in the bath yesterday, he wanted to blow bubbles. I gave him the bubble wand.

He ended up hooking the circle part of the wand over his thumb. Then he turned it around and around his thumb like you would if you were using a wrench.

He says, "Look mom! I'm screwing myself!"

My Story

Since many of you have asked, and I just happen to like you ("Artist", Kim, Sherry, Beth...ah, my public!)...I am giving you a glimpse of what I am working on. It has no title, and no set path yet. My story is leading me as I write; my characters are telling me who they want to be, not who I want them to be. Remember, this is just a glimpse. And if you don't want to read (since some of you also didn't ask), turn away now! I said "NOW!"

Sorry. You snooze you lose. Did I mention I had a time limit?

Plotter or Pantser

According to eHarlequin, there are two types of writers: the plotter and the pantser. 2 weeks ago, I would have told you I was a plotter. I'm the geeky type. I try to be organized. I have my index cards ready to go. I frequently make lists of lists on Excel. I thought I was a plotter. Until I read that article on eHarlequin.

And started writing my stories, yet again.

This time was different. This time I just wrote. And instead of getting stuck on page one, I have made it to page three! So what is different?

I'm doing the panster method. I'm writing by flying by the seat of my pants. It means I'm not getting caught up with the details like what is my character's motivation and where did she go to high school and what was the name of her favorite pet.

I'm writing like I would write my poetry. I'm letting the words come to me, listening to the voice in my head that tells me this sounds right.

I'm finding that as I write, as I fly, "fly into the mist", my characters are developing. I'm not forcing them to be someone...they are chosing who they want to be.

For the first time, I feel like I'm on the right path. I'm flying.

So with a broken wing, here I go...

Mr. Dan Mailman

Today Zorro and I watched our mailman, Mr. Dan, put the mail in all the boxes for our townhome complex. Zorro tells Mr. Dan, "You are smart to do this job."

Mr. Dan lets him close the mailbox when he is finished.

Flattery works everytime.

Zorro strikes again

I hear Zorro.

Zorro is calling me from his nap and singing "Ain't going down till the sun come up."

I hope that's not true.

Revelations

I am resolved to get cracking at my writing. It's the one constant in my life. Like an unrequited love, something will trigger a memory, and I will find myself back with pen and paper in hand hoping to fill the page with my creative musings.

I determined I have two things holding me back.

1. I love to procrastinate.
2. I have a bad memory.

So how does that equate to not writing? Usually my best thoughts, those brilliant phrases, storylines, come to me when I cannot grab a pen and write. I'm in the shower, doing the dishes, driving, or trying to sleep. I tell myself, remember, remember, remember...I repeat the words to imprint them on my brain...and I put off the writing.

It doesn't matter if it's hours or mere minutes. I will inevitably forget what I wanted to write. I may remember the gist, but I won't remember that most incredible compilation of words. And when I have my pen and paper, all I come up with is crap. I have tried carrying paper around and all my collection of pens (I have a pen fetish...it's not the expense or the look, but how the ink flows onto the paper...you understand...oh yeah, you don't have a f**t fetish, STU :P). And I hate the way my handwriting looks. Blah blah blah...but I am determined. This is my year to get my ass in gear (since I now have my ass in the right size) to get the writing started if not done. I will write more than 3 pages of my novel this year. I know, not much of a goal it would seem, but I've got lots of one page beginnings so to get to 3 pages would be a huge accomplishment for me.

Finally having lost the weight, having won the battle of the bulge(s), I feel empowered. I feel like if ever I was to get this done, it would be NOW!

Wish me luck!

So I wanna be a writer...

My plan to getting published:

1. Write
2. Repeat step 1 daily until finished
3. Submit to publisher
4. Repeat step 3 until accepted
5. Celebrate
6. Repeat step 1

I'm screaming!

Eating ice cream (even a little) everynight is not conducive to maintaining my weightloss.

Primping for my Date

Playdate is essentially that. A date. It's not just play. At least it doesn't feel like that to me as I got ready for the big event at my house.

It feels very much like a real date. The kind of date you'd have with someone you have a romantic interest in.

You are hoping to cultivate it into something more. Something meaningful than just a one-date type of thing.

So I cleaned the house...the living room, the bathroom, the kitchen... all those rooms that my guests may wander into. (In this case, I know the bedroom is safe so I get to leave it mussed.) I know it is about appearances no matter what "they" say.

I make sure the clutter is gone, the toys are stacked. I need my house to reflect how I am as a mother...and as a person. Even if my child and hers are great friends, we will not necessarily become great friends. Especially if she thinks I am a slob and have poor hygiene as well as poor parenting skills.

I want to make a great impression, because I like her. I like her son. I hope we have many more playdates together. I hope we become good friends. Which is why I have been on my hands and knees for the last two days cleaning the toilet and the floors, cleaning mirrors and picking up specks of lint off the carpet.

Because as much as my son needs a friend to play with, so do I.

Calling all Cars fans

As I have mentioned before, Zorro enjoys the movie Cars. So here are a few of his commonly heard quotes:

"I eat losers for breakfast."
"I'm so not taking you to dinner."
"You do the road my way."
"Case dismissed."
"Comprendo?"
"Ka-chow. Ka-pow."
"No! Not the face."
"No, no, no, no tires just gas."
"If you're going hard enough left, you'll find yourself right."
"Crazy Grandpa driver!"

Pictures of his room:

And he loves to sing...
from Sheryl Crow:

"Hold on. You're gunna crash. Baby you'll be screaming it's a blast
blast blast.."

and from Rascal Flatts (That's my country boy!):

"Life is a highway. I'm gunna drive it all my lonely..."

(He doesn't know the words so he makes up his own.)

and also Sh-Boom and Route 66 (both versions on the Cars CD).

We've got almost all the diecast cars. I know we are missing Lizzie and Sarge. Possibly New Mater, but I'd have to check my stash (my collection of toys he earns for doing a great job...he gets one toy on Saturday, so he is always asking..."Is it Saturday?"). We also have the Cars blanket, underwear, pajamas, stickers, tattoo, scooter, and McDonald's Cars toys and a few other Cars related toys.

Cars! Cars! Cars!

Well, I guess it could be worse...

Girls! Girls! Girls!

Thank God he is three!

Hair Coloring

I want to color my hair.

One day.

Blue or purple.

Koolaid is supposed to do the trick. Did you know Koolaid makes invisible juice now?

Clear Koolaid.

I don't think that would work.

Unless your hair turns invisible...which sounds cool in theory, but in practice I think you'd just look bald.

Work at home

Yesterday I tried to get my little guy...

You know what? I'm tired of saying "my son" or "my little guy". He has earned a nickname from one of my buddies...on account of the pictures I post of him. So from here on out he is... Zorro.

So let's start over...

Yesterday I tried to get Zorro to do his "homework" with me. Hoping to keep him up to date with other kids, I am trying to make sure we learn our alphabets and numbers, counting, phonics, prewriting and all those other important three R skills. I had my worksheet out which required him drawing straight lines, and was trying to get him interested in doing the work.

He tells me, "No, mom. You can do it yourself. By yourself."

Uhh, nice try kid.

So we muddle through it. We tried counting next. Kids at this age don't hold anything back. When they don't want to do something, you know it. Falling back in his chair. Deep sighs. Emotions written across his face and covering his whole body. Body language, indeed!

Time to break out the weapons.

Now I'm sure someone will tell me what I did was wrong. But frankly, I don't care. In this case, the ends do justify the means.

I put out 4 yogurt lids*. On each lid I put a certain number of...the secret weapon..mini M&Ms. Let me tell you, one glance at the M&Ms and his interest was hooked! Rules of the game... Which lid has the most M&Ms? Count them and tell me how many M&Ms there are. If you get them correct, you eat the M&Ms.

Ahh, the sweet taste of success!

And no, I didn't have any M&Ms myself. I am stronger than chocolate. Most of the time.


*Yogurt lids. Were you wondering about that? Why does she have plastic yogurt lids? I'll tell you why whether you were curious or not. First, I save the whole container, not just the lids. They make great little containers for toddler snacks. You can fit stars, goldfish, pretzels... all those good things, and they don't get crushed like they would in a plastic bag. And, you could use the containers for paint with the little ones or use them as "cookie" cutters with Playdough. The lids also make great paint holders if you are using thick paints like fingerpaints. Lots of possible uses. Especially if you ask a pack ratter. FYI, I've also saved snack-sized applesauce cups for paints too. Cheap and disposable.

Fingerpainting at Home

The Beauty of 3

My son is 3 years old.

I realized again, last night, what a special this time is.

When else would I be able to threaten him with dire consequences?

"If you don't behave, mommy will NOT let you help her wash the dishes."

Testing...one two three

Today it has been one test after another. The little stinker is doing all the things he knows he shouldn't. Like touching this. And that. Making crumbs fly. Loud voices in the library. (I wish it were all in my head!) Acting up (and out!).

Test. After. Freaking. Test. And I'm not so sure I'm passing it.

When I am talking to him and trying to correct him, he keeps saying "Yes, mom. Yes, mom."

It is sounding suspiciously like "Yes, dear. Yes, dear."

I just have this feeling all he is hearing is "Wah wah wah. Wah wah wah."

In one ear, out the other.

Oh dear.

Little Stinker

At Albertsons yesterday, people kept telling me how sweet my little boy was.

For the most part, he is. I'm not going to lie to you.

BUT (you knew there had to be one), you see, I think he has learned that being sweet when you are being naughty soooo helps.

So he is in one of those wagons for kids that is shaped like a car. He is "driving" and we are going down the bread isle. I see him pushing the breads back so I scold him. He has already been scolded several times for sticking himself out of the "car", warned that he would get hurt. I think to myself, enough is enough. I take him out and put him in the front of the wagon. I tell him that if he is not going to act like a "big boy" and doesn't listen to me, then he doesn't get to sit in the "car" like a big boy.

So he is sitting there, and now says "Mom, I don't know how to behave. Can you teach me how to behave?" and "Mom, I'm listening now" and of course "Mom, I'm sorry". All of this being said in just a sweet voice.

Little stinker.

And after a little while, mom lets him try again to be a "big boy". Can you say "SUCKER?"

On dad

On our way home from art class on Monday:

"Mom, is dad at home?"
"No, dad's at work."
"Aww, I'm going to be miss him."

Outta his mouth

Singing...

"M-I-C.....K-E-Y.....I'm all you can see. Mickey Mouse. Dot da
dot. Mickey Mouse. Dot da dot."

______________________________________

One of our recent conversations:
Me: "What shall we do today?"
Him: "Hmm...let me think. I know let's play outside."
Me: "That's a great idea!"
Him: "You bet!"

______________________________________

When something not so great happens...

"That's just great!"

and not so fair...

"That's not fair!"

Pimples

Pimples are a good example of the pitfalls in life.

Pimples are irritating. Not the huge ones that seem to erupt on your face. Not the ones that seem to draw everyone's eyes to that one spot. I'm talking about the ones that people can't see.

I see those questions in your eyes. What is she talking about?!

Let me jog your memory. Remember that pimple you had on the inside of your nose? Inside. I'm talking about way inside. You knew it was there. You could feel its nagging presence with every inhale. Sometimes it would hurt. But it was there. And what could you do about it? Pop it? You try squeezing from the outside. No luck. Just more pain. So can you get it from the source? No, unreachable. So you just suffer through it, hoping it would heal quickly.

And that pimple on your ass? The one that sits right where your panty (or briefs) meets the curve of your butt. The one that gets rubbed by your panty and hurts so you are forced to go pantiless. (Is that a word?) And who really wants to do that? So you don't, instead forcing yourself to bear with the pain. And that just really sucks.

Those are the irritating pimples.

And so as you know, I like to keep things short and sweet. I'll end by saying: Beware of the hidden pimples in your life.

Nice Try

My son was running in the house.
I know. What the hell kind of parent am I?!

He heads towards some steps, trips, and hits his shins on the step. Very "Auwie!" since those steps are made of marble. So he starts to cry.

My husband comforts him for a few minutes. Then it's my turn.

As I hold him, he looks at me with hound dog eyes and says in a teary voice, "May I have a toy to make me not cry?"
I know. What the hell kind of parent am I?

The kind of parent who knows when to bribe and when not to.

Abracadabra

Last night my son was up late. We listened to him talking to himself via the baby monitor.

He was saying "Abracadabra. Abracadabra."

Must have been enhancing his magic making skills.

He is magic, you know.

I know.

How else can he bring so much magic into my life?

I know more than you think!

Grandpa and grandma sent my son a "Lightning McQueen" remote car.

You program the car by pushing buttons on the top of Lightning. You can program him to do 15 things in a row. Some are talking things, and some are movements.

One night I am in the kitchen with my husband and my son is with his toy. My son had not been taught how to play with Lightning yet but we can hear him pushing buttons. Then we hear the car tell him he has pushed 15 commands in, and it is waiting for him to push the button for it to start the programs.

I tell my son to push the green button to make it start. My husband says there are TWO green buttons. So I tell my son, "Press the button that has the letter 'G' and the letter 'O'".

McQueen starts to GO!! My husband was quite impressed at our boy.

I was like "KA-CHOW!"

With Love

Today marks one year.

One year that a child has been without her mother. One year that a husband has been without his wife. One year that a sister has been without her sister. One year that a mother has been without her daughter. One year that a grandmother has been without her granddaughter.

Nothing will ever be the same.

I wish I could tell you differently. I wish I could make all your pain and sadness go away.

I can only say I grieve when you grieve. I will remember her too.

E.Q.

Yesterday my son and I were outside "playing". Our neighbor Miss Madeleine came outside to get to her car. (We had seen her the day before and she told us she had been feeling sick for a few days.) She stopped to say "hello" and before I could even offer her a greeting, my 3 year old asks her if she was feeling better.

I was so surprised.

Not only was I surprised, but I was impressed and flooded with such pride.

Before and After

December 2005

December 2006

Molten Chocolate Lava Cake

My son sitting on my lap, touching my face with his little hand, pressing our cheeks together and hearing him say, "We're best friends."

Imitation of Life

One night, my son decided to pretend to be mommy.

He fed his baby.

He put his baby on the "bed" (the couch) and tucked it in (literally, better than I have ever done...I don't think the baby could have moved even if it were animated).

He gave his baby a kiss, and told his baby to call for "mommy" if his baby needed anything and "mommy" would come.


I cannot even begin to tell you what it means to me to have him imitate his mommy in this way. I hope he has so much more of these memories ingrained in him and that he knows his mommy loves him so.

Quotes

My son says (from the movie Cars)...

"I'm so not taking you dinner!"

But he adds...

"Lunch is good."

The Day After

We walk into our house. Toys are covering the living room floor from earlier play.

My son says "Look at this mess!"

I ask, "What should we do about it?"

He replies, "Not clean up!"

About Molten Chocolate Lava Cake

You know them as "Simple Abundances", "Beautiful Things", and "Gratitudes". I'm talking about those little special moments that make life wonderful, moments that put the icing on the cake.

But I wanted my own catch phrase.

I thought of Daily Joys. Simple Joys. Precious Moments. And a slew of other words in that ilk.

Somehow none seemed quite appropriate.

So I started thinking back to the icing on the cake. I'm not a big fan of icing. In fact, I usually scrap it off. What I love is the chocolate that oozes out of a cake. Warm dark rich chocolate to enhance the cake and accompanying ice cream.

Remember "Life is like a box of chocolate?"

Well, life offers much more if we choose to search for it. Molten Chocolate Lava Cake is my contribution to the touchy feely feel good moments that I want to remember and share with you.


Molten Chocolate Lava Cake
December 22, 2006

My son kissing my hand and saying "Mom, I love you."

Seeing our regular postman back at work after knee surgery and being able to give him his Christmas gifts of homebaked desserts.

Watching my son enjoy his new Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Abominable Snowman Musical Snow Globe (and laughing at my husband as he wished we could have tried it out before we bought it...so annoyingly loud for anyone over 8).

Watching my dog enjoy the warmth of the fireplace.

Leonardo Da Boy-ci

A few days ago we went shopping for my son's Christmas presents. Since he is still young enough to believe what we tell him, he came along. We picked out "My First Kenmore" items, a vacuum and a toaster for him. He was told that the gifts were for his cousin.

Poor baby. He cried.

He really really wants the vacuum and toaster.

I think he will be very excited on Christmas day. His gifts also include: microwave oven, chef's hat/oven mitts/apron, stove/sink, pots/utensils.

We encourage all his interests, so he also is getting Tonka construction vehicles, monster truck, paddles and baseball & bat.

What a Renaissance boy!

An Upcoming New Year and a New Day

I heartily apologize to my readers. Yes! I have been lax at my writing! I used the excuse of the holidays and hustle and bustle. A good excuse, many would agree. But, I thought about it last night. And it is not a good excuse for me.

Why?

If I have no thoughts, nothing to write about, no observations, then I am being swept away in daily life. I am neither taking the time to smell the roses or enjoying all those little things which makes my life so beautiful.

I am not savoring moments and preserving them into memories.

So, here I am. Back to my fighting form, my writing form. Ka-chow!

eyh am bihting mah tuhng

I'm just going to take a few lines from Forrest, Jenny, and momma. I think they can say it best. If you know me, I won't need to preface this anymore. If you don't, too bad, so sad.

My Mama always said you've got to put the past behind you before you can move on.

What's normal anyways?

You have to do the best with what God gave you.

That's all I have to say about that.

Is it Saturday?

One of the most important answers lies in the question "Is it Saturday?"

We have been rewarding him for potty training. We have gradually been spacing out the times he gets his reward. So now, he gets a new special toy for going "shi shi" but new toys are given only on Saturdays.

So, it is very important to know "Is it Saturday?"

Fishing for more than Shrimp

I had lunch today at Bubba Gump Shrimp. No, I did not have shrimp. I was in the mood for a burger. So yes, I had a cheeseburger at Bubba Gump's. But that's not the point of this story.

The waitress, after we have been there for a while, asks me if I am running in the upcoming Honolulu Marathon.

Me?

Are you talking to me?

ME! I say no, and she says she just wondered because she is running in the marathon and I looked in shape. She thought I looked like someone who would run marathons.

WOOHOOOOOO!!!!!!! Can someone give me a HOT DAMN?!!


Needless to say, she got a great tip!

Are you ???

An old family friend came to dinner. She hadn't seen me since high school so her image of me has always been of a thin person (she completely missed seeing me in the fat years).

She happened to see a photo of me from my sister's wedding in 2004.

She says, this must have been when you were pregnant. Um....no. Much after.

Oops!

Merry Christmas

My son loves Christmas.

He loves the Christmas lights. He loves Christmas trees. He loves the decorations. He loves Santa. He loves the Christmas trains.

He loves the ringing of bells. He loves giving coins to the Salvation Army volunteers. (He even asked if they were ringing the bells just for him.)

He loves Christmas songs. He loves snowmen and snow globes.

He loves all those things. For him, Christmas does not equal presents. Christmas is wonderful and exciting, magical and beautiful.

And so is he.

Boy and his Cars

So the movie "Cars" is a big hit in my home. My son is absorbing new words and phrases from the movie like a little sponge.

Here are a few of his favorites:

"Life is a highway. I wanna drive it all night long. Wooooooooh!"

"Ka-Chow!"

"I'm so NOT taking you out to dinner."

"Boy, you in a heap of trouble."

"No, no, no, no...no tires, just gas."

"Focus, Focus"

"Speed. I am speed."



And his parents' least favorite that we are trying to get him to stop saying...

"Comprendo?"

Duh Mom!

I try to monitor what my son watches on television. I find that even shows that are labeled for kids are not necessarily the shows I want him to see. I make sure I explain to him the images he is seeing so that he won't be frightened or upset. I say things like "that's not real". And "it is pretend."

My son enjoys having me with him, wants to make sure I am watching with him, especially the scenes he loves. This evening we were watching Disney's Cars movie (for the upteenth time). I know how important it is to him that I watch. So I try to get all revved up too so he would feel like I was huge fan too (which I am 'cause it is a great movie), partners.

I ooooh'd and aaaaah'd my ass off during the racing scenes. Even added some whoa's and moans and groans in there. I guess I was too good.

My son turns to me and says, "it's only a movie."

Flied Lice

Let me set the premise for this one...

My mom is from Thailand.
So is one of her friend.
Both have accents.
They were going to play golf today.
So mom made sure to ask dad to pack mom some foods to snack on for her day at the course.

Mom came home 6 hours later and asks me, "what is the name of the club that you use to hit the golf ball out of the sand with?"
I say, "sand wedge".
Then mom starts laughing.

This is what happened on the golf course:

Mom's friend: "Pass me the sand wedge."
Mom: "I don't have any sandwiches. Only eggs."

Homecoming Story

Once upon a time a girl got fat. She got married, got fatter, had a baby, and got even fatter.

Then she found Weight Watchers and Bootcamp Buddies. She worked hard. And she once again could see... she could see her feet and the space between her legs. She even saw her own muscle definition without straining. She was pleased, very very pleased.

Then, she went home.

Somehow coming home for me is such an enlightening experience.

I came home minus 30 pounds of excess body weight. I was looking forward to finally not hearing "Look at the size of your arms" and "You need to lose some weight".

But instead of the usual "You're too fat", I got "You're too skinny." Not "You're too skinny" kidding/ha ha/fun type of comments. Serious "You're too skinny" comments from family and family friends.

Which is weird since skinny was a word that would have last been appropriate for me at age 8.

So it reaffirms my belief...I cannot please everyone so I should try to please me more often.

And I am pleased with me.

So deal.

The end.

The Important Question

Remember my son and his questions? Teaching me to be a better writer? Okay, you have to travel way way back to the earlier blogs if you forgot (JINNER!).

Well, here we are in Hawaii visiting the folks, and my son has been asking the same question for the past 2 days.

I happen to love his questions. At least the first 10 times I hear it. And I've learned not take his questions lightly. This one is by far my favorite.

So I put it to you.

"Are you happy?"

Pre co cious

Several people have referred to my son as being precocious.

Precocious. Pre*co*cious.

What the hell?! How dare you?!

Oh. I see. It's not a bad word?

Precocious.

1. mentally advanced for age: developed or mature, especially mentally, at an unusually early age, or showing such advanced development

I think he seems precocious because he is taught our family has rules, rules like manners and being polite. We have certain expectations of him and his behavior. There is a time and place for everything, playtime and serious time. He is taught to put away things that aren't being played with, to clean up messes. He refers to adults as "miss" and "mister". He uses "please" and "excuse me". He is taught there are consequences to his actions.

Precocious? Not sure I agree.

Precious? Infinitely.

Making the Connection 2

My son has a great imagination. One of the things he likes to do is to pretend he is a toy. His favorite is to be the toy that when you push his button (belly) he turns on and starts singing "Jingle Bells."

So the other day...

"Mommy, turn me on."

Okay. I go to push his belly "button."

"No. Not like that," he says waving his hand in front of his body.

I am puzzled. He keeps waving his hand in front of himself.

AHHHH! The light bulb in my head goes off.

"Are you a motion sensor toy?"

Yes!!!

Making the Connection 1

I was driving the car with my father-in-law in the front seat and my son and husband in the back seat. I just finished making a turn when I hear my son's voice talking to me.

"Mom?"

"Yes, babe?"

"I woad."

"You road?"

"No. I just woad."

Part of my job as mommy is to make sense of it all. So I thought for a moment. Woad. Not road. Rewind what had just happened. Oh! He said "Whoa" as I made the turn.

He whoa-ed!

Commitment

When I got married, I made a commitment to my husband.

Through the years, I've had to stop wearing my wedding rings for a time, and eventually I had my rings enlarged.

A few days ago, I made another commitment.

I finally had my rings resized. Smaller.

I made a commitment. Not to him this time. But to me.

The Diplomatic Doctor

Yesterday, my husband and I went back to his surgeon for a check up and to get the stitches out. My husband had been raring at the bit, somewhat stir-crazy, eager to return to work. He wanted to go back on Monday.

I'm thinking he is crazy.

He can barely tolerate riding in the car for 10 minutes. How is he going to drive himself to work (which is a much longer commute) and work 8 hours?

So he brings up the subject with his doctor since the doctor must clear his return to work.

God bless his doctor!!

The doctor is like... "Yeaaah, you coooooould go back to work. It's up to you. What about after Thanksgiving?"

I was like giggling inside because I heard exactly what he was saying..."Yeaaah, you IDIOT you coooooould go back to work IDIOT. It's up to you IDIOT. What about after Thanksgiving IDIOT?"

Hubby heard it too and is not going back to work on Monday.

Lessons Learned

My son loves to play with the light switch. It doesn't matter if it is day or night. It's just fun to have that power. But as adults we learn about electricity and bills, so we teach our children not to play with the light.

My husband tells my 3 year old when he wants to turn on the light, "Are you going to be reading? If you are not reading, you don't need the light on."

So the other night, as we sat in the living room watching television, my son decided he would like to play with his flashlight.

Problem: the living room lights were on.

He tells his dad, "Dad, you not reading. We must turn off the light."

I Hear Voices

I hear a voice in my head. Do you?

Saturday I had a little melt down. I ended up spending about 3 hours alone, walking, listening to my mp3.

I discovered that the reason I had the meltdown was that my alone time had vanished. With my husband home recouperating and my father-in-law here to help out, I no longer had my quiet time. And I literally mean my quiet time.

I am not used to hearing the television on all day. Or voices constantly talking. Except for maybe the voice in my head (there is only one at the moment), I am used to bouts of silence.

So on Saturday, I walked. I had Rascal Flatts blaring in my ear, I Melt played over and over again in my own version of meditation. I just needed to tune everything else out so I could focus again on the voice in my head.

Writing helps me listen to her. As does silence. I've discovered that I like the voice in my head. I like what she has to say. She keeps me sane.

And she's awfully smart.

I hear my voice. Do you hear yours?

Like Father, Like Son

Remember my Out of the Mouth of Babe posts where my son says some interesting things? I now know where he gets it from. This happened yesterday before we left the hospital.

My husband says: "Tit rate."

Me: "Huh?"

Husband in hospital points to his IV pump machine. "It says tit rate" he says with a manly giggle.

I glance over to where he is pointing.

"Ummm... no. That's TITRATE."

Tiiiiii-trate.

I'm a freakin' ray of sunshine!

Good morning sunshine!

What a hectic busy time it has been. My son ended up having to go to the emergency room on Saturday for difficulty breathing. After 2 breathing treatments, oral steriods (which he threw up on me), a shot, and x-ray, we were able to take him home. He is doing much better as I write this.

This on top of the worry and stress of my husband's neck surgery which went as planned yesterday. All looks well! Hopefully he will be able to go home today.

And I got a sty in my eye on Friday which is almost like an insult when you consider everything else going on in my life. So I can't even look cute while I am stressed since I have to wear my glasses! WTH?! Now that is just not fair!!

Which brings me to a memory of a girl sitting on the beach saying "Why me? Why me?" and having some random beach bum come up and say "Why not?"
Remember Yooj?

Why not indeed!

But today looks rosy and my spirits are intact as is my sanity.

Thank goodness my father-in-law is here to help. We did anticipate he would keep my son from jumping on my husband after his surgery, but we did not plan for my son needing medical care himself. If my father-in-law wasn't here, I would be spread even thinner than I am now. Such a tremendous relief. I ca't even begin to tell you!!

See, there is a silver lining to everything! I can't help being a freakin' ray of sunshine! Help! Pollyanna syndrome!!

And yes, Kim...there is a silver lining! (ala Yes, Virginia...there is a Santa....)

Three Wishes

My son watches a television show called Hi-5. It's a great show that encourages imagination. Their closing song asks... "If you had three wishes, what would they be?"

So, today is your day.

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

Slide Show

Get Your Own! | View Slideshow

Fun and Games on Halloween

My husband is going to be having surgery.

Yesterday in the doctor's office, we waited to see the doctor for the last meeting before the surgery. No one is really excited about having the surgery. Especially the patient who will be having the anterior cervical spine allograft and plating. Which means in layman's terms, the surgeon will cut into the front of his neck to fix the problems with his disc and bone spur. Surgery alone is bad enough. The thought of someone cutting into your neck... jeepers, creepers!

Except if you are 3 years old.

In your Firefighter Halloween Costume.

Singing in the doctor's office the song you just made up.

"Surgery. Surgery. Sur-ur-urgery. Surgery. Surgery. Sur--ur-ur-ger-yyyyyyyy."

Out of the Mouth of Babe

On top of saying "What it is?," my son says "Whatchu going?".

Next we expect him to say, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?".