I passed?

You know how parents or caretakers always say things like, “I thought I was going to be the teacher, but I think I am the one who ended up learning the most!” blah, blah, blah…? And it’s not that we don’t believe you, but it’s not as much about being taught, as it is a frame of mind, or being open to learning things from a demanding situation. I mean, it’s not like your newborn baby is actually going to pull out a notepad and show you how to solve a math equation where pi is the integer or anything.

(also, I’m pretty sure my husband just stabbed himself with a pencil over my sadly misinformed attempt to make up a fictional math scenario.)

Caretaking or raising someone can teach us stuff about ourselves, about what we are capable of, about leaving behind the hectic world to be present in a situation, or to see the world like it’s new again. They teach us by example, and by requiring things from us no one else would.

This is the kind of learning I have been glad to partake in the last 6 1/2 years, and why I didn’t see last night coming.

Let’s set the stage.

First: me, standing on the stool peering into the forbidden treat cupboard to discover, once again, an entire package of cookies seems to have either consumed itself in one night, or been relocated to a 6 year old boy tummy in secrecy.

Second: 6 year old boy, hands on hip, mouth geared up for an onslaught of the injustices against him along the lines of “yeah, I CHOSE to [insert naughty behavior here] but you CHOOSE the consequence! And how am I supposed to know anyone loves me when you always CHOOSE to punish me?!” (true story)

My reaction when he gets super mouthy and tries to draw me into long theological discussions about his rights as a “human being” is usually to redirect him… to his room. One of the side effects of a super smart kid, and the approach we have taken to teach him emotional intelligence and self awareness, is now we have a highly emotional and articulate child who often wants to hold a room ransom with monologues about why anything he ever does, good or bad, has an explanation everyone has to listen too.

I tend to reevaluate my choices as a parent pretty much daily, even hourly on days when my brain hates me, but most of my parenting intuition comes from one thing I KNOW from my parenting experiences so far, and from growing up myself: You can not WILL another person to learn the things you know. You simply can not WILL a person to avoid the pain and mistakes that are so obvious to you, or even to SIT STILL. You can not will a person to sit still! And the more you try to enforce your knowledge and will on someone, make them SEE how you see, the more they feel misunderstood and also RIGHT about their own choices, since they are THEIRS. Some hard core molding, threatening and spanking will work when kids are young, but when the years of their impressionable youth expires and you missed the time to teach them to find coping skills within their own minds? At the end of the day, forcing a kid to BEHAVE is easier then teaching them to course correct, apologize, have retrospect, but it is a short term solution I think will cause a parent more work over the span of their lives.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve spanked (judge me all you want, when you are raising a strong fearless boy things happen that I’m not proud of, but that doesn’t make it the wrong choice either), but we don’t sit around talking about our feelings all day either. I’d rather be spanked! My kids are required to act decent, or they will be “removed from civilized society” as we say while we march them to their rooms.

That’s probably why Russell talks so weird, because I think weird  :)

When Russell jumps into a monologue that is obviously a reaction to a consequence, or because he simply feels mad or crappy or sad and is not expressing that, but is lashing out at others, he is removed. We don’t have a specific time-out plan like the nannies on tv, but every member of this house with our high strung personalities, has a “cave space”. Cavemen can sulk and emote in their caves, contributing members of society are welcome down by the watering hole.

Hmph, so much for keeping this short, but I find writing this very helpful since I’ve never really spelled it out like this. And last night, oh my gosh you guys, last night… I think the dance we’ve got going here is working.

So back to it; I’m on the stool, the kid is perched to react, and then? He sort of crumbled. It wasn’t rage or defensiveness or lying, he just dropped his arms and the sadness and disappointment was written all over his wonderful little body. He went up the stairs and I heard his door close softly. I just stood on the stool. I didn’t know what to do! My frustration gave way as he walked away and all I could think was “don’t screw this up.” You don’t want to teach someone that martyrdom and despair is how you get out of trouble, but you want to reward someone’s self awareness and also show them how to use this feeling today, to make better choices tomorrow.

A few minutes of letting him marinate in this emotion seemed fine, and then I quietly knocked on his door. I don’t even know how to write this next part because this moment is so sacred to me, but so important, so brilliant, I have to write it down even if I’m boring you to death.

He was cross legged on his floor, it’s so rare to see him sitting still, he raised his face to me and then dropped it as his chin began to tremble. I said nothing and sat down beside him. Overwhelmed, he put his head in his hands and said “I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry I ate the cookies you bought for our family. It’s like…” he paused then with big sad tears looked right in my face “…it’s like I’m a book and sometimes I just forget what page I’m on.”

…

…

It is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. I have never felt more understood by another human being. I have never heard a better analogy for the brilliance that is this whole stupid ADHD thing. I have never felt more validated for the complicated way I’m trying to carve out a different path for my family and how we express ourselves.

And I didn’t give this to him. He gave it to me. He taught me something so totally out of his own brain, so uniquely insightful and his. 

Jon came home, we put on a tv show and paused it so we could con the squirrels to climb up on our laps for a minute, and Jon told Russell when he feels lost, “mommy and daddy can be a like bookmarks so you don’t lose your page.”

!!!

I’m serious.

I know parenting is complicated, tedious, wonderful, blah, blah, but I really am the winner here and I’m grateful whatever tomorrow holds, no one can ever take yesterday away from me.

Perfectly imperfect and all mine.

16 Dollars?!

<insert Jeopardy theme song here>

“Alex, what is: How Alice King answers any question that may or may not involve a number?”

Correct!!

“How old are you?”

16 Dollars.

“How many noodles to you want?”

16 Dollars.

“Are you ready for bed?”

16 Dollars!!

I’m telling you this because somehow over the weekend the planets aligned in such a way that it sort of feels like we somehow earned the lottery. You know, if you could work hard to win the Lotto, since the good things aren’t just happy accidents, but sometimes things do seem a little too good to be true.

My answer to this feeling is to join Alice in her random exclamations of “16 Dollars!” because I find something about it answers this mystical sense of wellness, I mean who doesn’t like 16 dollars? Plus you can spend it pretty quick, just in time for some angsty midnight munchies and hand wringing because today you found out the guy who’s been fixing your car for two weeks fixed it very wrongly.

Even more wrongly than my grammar.

But then you wake up the next day and the boy child has a great medicine day and the girl child is still peeing in the pot, and holy cow! I just found 16 dollars in the clean laundry!

That’s all, BIG SHOUT OUT to all the friends and family that have made this weekend so entirely 16 dollars. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!

…

What doesn’t cost 16 dollars?

LEGO HAIR. Which obviously leads us to the Valentine conclusion of this post:

32 Bomber Jacket Torsos? $5.20

32 Rad Orange Pants? $3.80

45 Teeth Grinning Heads? $6 dollars even

32 perfectly parted 6 year old romance hair pieces? 18 DOLLARS

(you should have seen the price of the cowboy hats! 16 dollar bills don’t grow on trees people!)

One Individualized Russell Lego for each of his kindergarten Valentines?

I’m going to say it, PRICELESS.    

Especially when you add in a dash of Ms.16 Dollars herself:

Don’t ask me how much it cost me to make just 6 of Alice J Walker, because then I might accidently reveal that her hair doo’s were two bucks per friggen’ ponytail and then weep until I look at the picture again and remember how totally hysterical it is that Lego even MAKES pink Alice hair.

SIXTEEN DOLLARS!!!

Someone SHOT me!

Just because it’s only a bow and heart shaped arrow doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little!

Listen, I have Valentine pictures to share this weekend that are SO FAB and dripping with cheery love feelings, you may actually need to wash your eyeballs with steak sauce to get the sugar out of them.

Today? Let’s actually talk about Valentines Day, you know, like friends who tell each other the truth.  

A combination of Jon’s car crash, a no show mechanic for the car we do have (and, in the spirit of truth telling, some less than stellar time management choices we have made the last few weeks), meant our Valentines began with no car and a carpool of kids waiting for pick-up. This resulted in the very rarely spotted Jon tantrum, including a little stomping and even a flying F word which I had thought extinct for some years in the jungle of his brain… even to the point of being suspicious that they’ve been migrating across our pillows during the nights of our long romance since lately my brain seems to have something of an infestation of sailor cursing. Either that, or when I was pregnant I gave all my articulate brain cells to the pint size lawyers I am raising, and have only been left with the four letter vocabulary of a stand up comedian.

So no car, sailor cursing, then fast forward to me standing in a field full of matching t-shirted K thru 3rd graders running laps for twenty minutes to loud party dance tunes and cheerfully earing money for the school… and my son standing on the side, face turned down, giant tears of frustration, and red fists tucked under his armpits, only to find out he is so mad not because he’s been hurt or scared, but because he “just doesn’t know why we are running!”

This was followed by a lovely free lunch of baked Cheetos's, apple slices, chocolate milk, and plain turkey sandwiches which was also, unfortunately, met with even more desperate hysteria and included a hundred tiny humans staring at my nice guy while I lovingly and firmly required him to complete the line and assemble his tray of food.

After which I allowed him to go his classroom and retrieve the bag lunch we had packed when we didn’t know there was free lunch.

There is a fine balance between understanding someone’s mental limitations, and not allowing them to get in the way of their own success. Requiring him to continue walking the laps, then requiring him to fill his tray with school lunch, didn’t hurt him, but somehow I know that sitting at a table full of his peers and requiring him to eat food he vehemently doesn’t want, would hurt.

Believe it or not, the reason I am even bringing this up, is because this Valentines catastrophe was an unprecedented success for me. Russell doesn’t usually act quite like that, his flavor of this ADHD thing usually takes on more of a relentless energy, rigid intensity, impulsive defiance (and don’t forget his passionately sweet nature and often unceasing optimism!), but not usually the rage and open mouth crying all day.

But I wasn’t phased. I get him. I just get him. And the same way my friend takes her naturally talented daughter to violin lessons a couple times a week, I am realizing that an artist’s life is full of torment and passion, success and failure. I’m beginning to view these episodes with new love and empathy, and I find I’m not as sucked into a drain of total despair that I am I raising a mad angsty person one minute, and a cheerful beam of light bouncing off the walls the next. Who am I to deny him the years of art he may create just from the rage of being forced to “Run For Your Heart!” in the Santiago Elementary Fundraising Marathon? 

These days, he simply shines like the silver moon in my great blue sky; he dazzles me and often keeps me up at night, each and every day is never quite the same as the day before, and occasionally things get so blue, I wander with my arms outstretched, grasping for a railing in the dark. Tonight was one of his “Cheshire Cat” nights, charming yet suspicious, also what my family calls the clever quarter moon skies.

Oh, and I believe I saw his full moon twice.

Yes, that moon.   

The point is, I kept looking for a map, an instruction manual, but Tuesday was proof of some of my new realizations taking root. I’ve realized I’m the map. I’m the compass. I’m the legend!

And I can do this.

Russell breaks every mold. Even the molds that they made for the kids that had already broken all the other, other, molds. But you know who molded him?

Me.

Or Jesus?

Or Jesus picked me to mold him? Whatever, I made him in my body. He looks like me and smells like his dad, he is our Valentine everyday, even when it is Valentines and he’s acting like a poop stain in front of the entire student body and all their parents.

That’s all, much cheerier pictures to follow soon, and I hope you all had a Happy Valentines, or Angsty Valentines, or isn’t there something about a massacre and two people who loved each other anyway that inspired this holiday? Happy that to all of you. LOVE me :)

Wee-Wee-Wee All The Way Home

Ten days in Utah, plus a couple good road trip songs, and eighteen hundred sixty seven split second pictures can only mean one thing:

SLIDE SHOW!

Whew! I haven’t done one for while and it went pretty smoothly until I almost collapsed under the pressure of picking music that people watching could enjoy without resorting to wedding music (or revealing my somewhat juvenile taste in music). At 2am I finally surrendered the idea of ever being cool in the music department, and the result is a little Rob Thomas followed by a little instrumental bluegrass which I am not ashamed to say I LOVE. This is important because while I want you to enjoy it the one time you might watch it, in my remaining years I will probably watch it over and over again. You know, since the truth behind why I make these slideshows lies somewhere between true love for my family, and the ability to use these smiling reels as weapons when my teenagers are acting like turds and I’m too tired to personally escort them on a guilt trip right that minute.

Utah was wonderful. AMAZING. Coming back home was thrilling, too. This trip marked the first time that going to Utah didn’t feel desperate, and returning to California didn’t make us feel like strangers in a strange land. I can’t say thank you enough to all the people who fill our lives with joy (and our belly’s with warm delicious calories of the savory and/or sweet variety!!)

(p.s. even if you don’t want to tuck into this whole slideshow, you should at least start it, those four burst photo’s seriously rock my world :)

The Force is strong with this one…

Let me start by saying I know it was only, like, two posts ago that I was complaining about that girl who always brags about her “girls weekends”, but then I remember I am only mad at her because I am jealous she has them so often. Then I remember I don’t need to have them as often because my friends are twice as cool as her friends, so I get all the goodness in half the time.

And that concludes my fictional argument with my fictional friend.

(You know who you are.)

Anyway, for now I will skip the gory bragging details about my fabulous weekend with Caroline Carson, especially since I am finally on the verge of completing my Christmas Slideshow sometime this year, and I will just tell you that the whole thing fits into what seems to be the theme of my life these days.

“Many Works In Progress”

I like spending time with the people I love. I enjoy the fun parts, but I cherish the parts where we spill our guts and then buoy each other up through a good snotty cry. Life will throw sand in your eye on one day, then wrap you in a warm blanket on the next, and even though it’s selfish, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one in a dysfunctional relationship with my existence.

Despite the swings, lately I seem more aware that everything around me is a work in progress, and if I don’t stay up too late getting depressed watching the Tudors (seriously, enough with the beheadings!), then all the “works in progress” really satisfy me. There is a little family, yes family, who picks up their daughter/granddaughter from Kindergarten every day and has lunch on the nearby picnic table. Little do they know they have become my daily zen checkpoint! Every time I breath in the smell of their hot lunch, I understand the conscience decision they have made to spend their time this way, and then make a mental note to walk a little slower to the car.

For that minute, as I hold the kids hands while we cross the street, I do it not just to save their squirrely bodies from running into the street, but because their hands fit into mine like puzzle pieces meant for my fingers.

And then we race home to the Work In Progress that has taken over all our art supplies:

Yup, that’s what Star Wars looks like through six year old boy goggles, aka Russell King!

Each of those characters are two 8.5 x 11 pieces of plain printer paper, taped together, and turned into PURE AWESOME. He made them on a whim about two weeks ago, then today we finally got our huge canvas covered with magnetic paint and had the characters laminated. Tomorrow we will glue the magnets on the back of the hero’s, and then he will paint the background… or better since he has requested to take his first stab using spray paint. I admit the idea of teaching my son his first graffiti techniques made me so proud we spent an hour googling street art when I was supposed to be making dinner.

Oh yeah, thanks again for the pizza Papa Johns, do you do laundry, too? If you do, I would say yours is a business model that is not longer a work in progress but PERFECTLY COMPLETED.

<sigh> a mother can dream… and holy cow, 12am, I’m going to attempt that right now, goodnight!

p.s. the Wookie is three pieces. it seems important to note that :)

Caroline Carson

So did I ever tell you about the time my family hosted the largest three day bluegrass festival in Utah for a few years in a row? And how I never had the common sense to flirt with any of the musicians until I was already engaged to the festivals assistant director, and then I was so busy flirting with (and eventually marrying) him, that I NEVER flirted with any of them, EVER?

Which is why no one ever met me for fifteen minutes one year, then came back the next year with a song they had written about me and AND put on their new ALBUM.

You guys, my besty of 27 years is in my guestroom right now, and the only reason I allow this is because when she wrote down her name and number for the cute mandolin player, he thought her name was Caroline CARSON, and it’s actually Caroline Larson and I was able to forgive her for out-flirting me at my own damn event. Which is good, because after she is done changing we are going OUT. And we are going to gossip, drink virgin pina colada’s, and lament how old we are. And also how our non alcoholic beverages are NOT making us feel better.

I LOVE her. I’m so glad she is here. I needed this, and maybe she can talk some sense into the Rude Voice that follows me around lately telling me I should be better, smarter, faster, more organized, or at least STOP hating myself for getting my son to school 4 minutes late every single day for almost his entire kindergarten career. In fact she has already exclaimed that my house is “filled with heart!” and I’m sure later she will offer to help me figure out where I should start setting out Russell’s clothes the night before.

Because THAT is what girls do for each other who have been friends for THIS long:

I’m the one with the face. She is the cute blond beside me. Watch out weekend, we are going to vanquish rude voices, dream big, and eat an enormous amount of chocolate. YAY!

You know what is hard?

Taking pictures of WINDOWS.

Seriously! I should have looked up an online tutorial or something, but I was already laying on the floor trying to take 3 story tall pictures when it occurred to me that I am totally not qualified for this kind of insanity.

In other words, look at my cute windows! And don’t look at my terrible photography. My poor wall colors can’t get a fair shake in any of my documentation so far… they are really pretty, I promise! You’re just going to have to come see for yourself :)

Anyway, I have these five strange tall windows that are a particular kind of challenge, they live in two separate to rooms at once, they are too high to put blinds on (you could never close them anyway), and they are the first thing you see when you walk in my house.

So.

I framed them :)

I couple 50 cent samples of bright teal paint, a little gold paint applied with a stencil, some brown metal primer on the aluminum window casing, and gold spray painted trim from the hardware store.

$40 bucks, and four days later (don’t forget to calculate child rearing into your schedule when you have a project that should only take a couple hours!), and I love these windows! I love how the teal invites in all the green and blue from the outside, and how the gold and brown keeps it from looking like a circus. The other thing I didn’t expect is that the bright color in those little rims somehow makes it feel like I painted the whole wall.

LOVE FEELINGS.

Make-over

Diet edition.

I finally updated my NOT CANDY tab up there. It was long overdue.

Enjoy :)

My New Day Resolutions

Yup, it’s that time of day again: Time for declaring my New Day Resolutions for Friday January 13, 2012!

Yesterday I began my day the usual way, an ice cold glass of low sodium V8 juice, a small handful of sunflower seeds, and a small delicious bowl of Multigrain Cheerios with organic whole milk.

And yesterday I ended my day in the usual way, standing over the sink eating directly out of the cake pan using the spatula as my fork. I really shouldn’t even own a spatula.

It’s the gateway utensil.

People, I HAVE to eat cake, I’m kind of on the fritz! I’m starting to get a wreckage of bodies piling up around me and they have names like “blog updates”or “make a grocery list for MEALS.”

Despite how yummy the Costco barrels of sourdough pretzels are for a kindergarten lunch, they don’t actually transfer well into a Tuesday night dinner. And don’t forget my other dead friends:

“date night”

“check engine light”

or sadly

“personal hygiene”

For the latter we will be holding a vigil this evening in my shower, and no you’re not invited. Well, maybe Jon, kill two birds with one stone and all that. For goodness sake, I’m a mom! If I can’t turn “shaving my armpits” into “date night” then I should just give back my Multi Tasking tiara and sash now.

Also, I’m still waiting for that tiara and sash because I earned it!

Last year, anyway.

I know we’re only 13 days in, but already it’s clear I might be aiming for the more modest pageant mom titles like “licks her plate clean before placing in the dishwasher” or “cool mom” which I will earn by delivering Russell to school a fashionable 5 minutes late every day this week. 

<sigh> and now you are caught up, so let’s get back to it:

My New Day Resolutions!

Brush teeth.

Eat with actual utensils.

Unpack one box under the garage.

And finally, write and publish one itty bitty blog post telling people you’re not dead.

(just too busy eating cake to answer the phone)

Wish me luck and I’ll wish it back! What are your New Day Resolutions for this lil’ ‘ol Friday?

YEAH! Of Sunshine!

I have a new blog address! Well, it’s not new, as much as improved. Or shorter. You can now get to this site using:

Of Sunshine Dot Com

ofsunshine.com

OF(nospaces)SUNSHINE(dot)COM!!

No, you don’t need to update anything to get here, and you’re welcome to keep using lissaraeofsunshine.com since I own them both and they both point here. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner! And despite my contact cards being adorable, I am so glad I don’t have to explain the mouthful “lissaraeofsunshine.com” anymore.

And that it was available!

Merry Christmas to me from the World Wide Web.

:)

Also, I’ve been meaning to tell you guys (you can read this next part in a spoiled valley girl accent, or a smug slow hippy vibe, it works wither way)

My life is perfect.

I run 6 miles everyday.

I only eat, like, totally organic food.

My children are never rude and only ever use there inside voices.

My sweat doesn’t stink anymore. In fact I’ve had offers to create my own perfume line WITH my actual armpits.

I can type in the air and my new phone can sense my gestures from across the room and, when I nod my head, send emails directly to Oprah.

Jon and I have been taking Samba lessons and are having the BEST TIME EVER. In fact, more fun than you have ever had in your entire life.

Oh, and all my undesirable hair follicles closed up and I don’t have to shave my legs anymore.

(you may now return to whatever my voice usually sounds like in your head)

Because only 25% of that is true, and you have to mix the words around a little to even get that. Instead read:

There are voices inside my head, I can eat more food than you, my children stink, Jon and I have been taking lesson on how to send rude gestures from across the room, and I don’t shave my legs anymore.

I tell you this, because this study conducted by some smarties at Stanford, has declared that facebook is making people UNHAPPY! Apparently, as we cruise the internet in our pajama’s and face creams before we call it a night, that is the moment we decide to look down and compare our entire lives with the perfectly manicured family portraits of someone we sort of know, or used to date, or that one girl who is ALWAYS out on the town, sending a live stream of photos of herself, probably with the celebrity she just met at the airport on the way back from her quick “girls weekend getaway” to Fiji.

Or… or… there are those (never me) who say things they shouldn’t (a little religious banter anyone?), or take pictures of things they shouldn’t (not that this would be worthy of a scandalous case for Judge Judy, but my sister STILL has a picture tagged of me from her college graduation that someone took downhill from us, so we are already getting the Triple Chin Look Down, but then they cropped it so you can’t see my pregnant belly!), and let’s just not mention the “friends” who always write on your wall as if they were in a gas station bathroom instead of in a forum you share with your GRANDMA.

But still, it bummed me out! I sort of like facebook when they aren’t changing it every five minutes, you know, forcing me to take a course down at the community center just to be able to find my own homepage again. And I used to like the facebook stalking! Now I just feel like facebook is that friend who I told I had a little crush on Hugh Jackman, and the next time they came over they brought me naked pictures of him.

(I should clarify that never really happened, but if it did, I would probably be appalled. just leave them on the table and get out. you’re disgusting.)

It’s too much, Facebook! I don’t need to know the moment one my friends “like’s” something one of their friends said. Or that 15 minutes ago Joe was at church, but for some reason now he’s at the bar. I think moving from the Holy Spirit to just plain SPIRITS is a personal choice that should be left in the cab ride home.

All I’m really trying to say here is, if facebook is getting you down, just head over to ofsunshine.com, where the funny lady will tell you all about where the sun shines.

And also,

where it does not.

:)

Can’t type, too tired…

I am too tired to be funny!

I will have to settle for happy, fat, and tired.

Merry Christmas :)

Also, I got you a present!

No, it's not the promised before and after pics of the tree house... but it IS a video walkthrough!

I’m sorry it's sort of long, you have to forgive us since the tour guides are short and distractible (it’s all the production budget allowed for).

Also, I can't tell you how badly I want to jump through the screen and grab that green mylar balloon on the ground outside the front door at the beginning of the video, or how much wish I had finished the story about Kate Cotter and Facebook updates on potty training. I started it, and then realized it's only funny when she tells it. You're trailing off... (and did I catch a "nine-er" in there? I think I smell a guest
post in the works).

Anyway, let's set the stage, and get this show on the road, shall we?

Remember the hoard?

Would you cook a roast in this kitchen?

Dine in this dining room?

Store your pin ball machines under our garage?

Shower in these bathrooms?!

Slumber party with the babies?!!

And don't forget about that bathtub in the floor...

Wow, I suddenly feel better about that balloon on the front porch.

What are you waiting for? Come on in:

Click Here

(remember, push play, then pause for a minute so the video can load, then play it :)

What do I want to say?

My brains are a little like jello, and I'm wearing three pairs of pants, indoors, with my coat on (I am snow not kidding).

But, BUT! This momentous occasion MUST be marked by blogging of some kind.

Today I am older than I have ever been before. Today my husband is FORTY. He says he is fine with it, and has therefore given me permission to freak out as much as I feel is necessary.

Which is a lot. 

Do you realize how old this makes me?! My only consolation is that no matter how old I get, he will always be older. Which usually helps, but today I can't help but feel like it's somehow inappropriate that I am dating, er, MARRIED, to a forty year old.

...

Shhh...

Don't tell him I said this...

...

He is the nicest man I have ever known. He is my best friend, my home, my greatest challenge and my greatest reward. I am so glad he was BORN today, even though he has to share the season with the baby Jesus, and is old enough to tell you what kind of cake they served at that party.

Happy Birthday, Jon King. You are old.

Love Me.

How do you like them apples?

I have been using the word “ambivalent” incorrectly for so many years that I’m not sure how to live without it, except now I know it doesn’t mean what I want it to mean.

I’ve even known this for several years, but I cannot find a satisfying replacement word.

I thought it meant indifferent.

It doesn’t. Well, it ALMOST does. It’s complicated. It’s like indifferent with a vengeance.

It’s actually kind of an awesome word when used correctly, it can mean having two opposing opinions about one thing at the same time. Not knowing what to do, but with angst.

But I am very attached to it as a PASSIVE word. Like, a step below indifferent.

“I can’t believe that pageant mom is so devoted to making her 4 year old the Grand Supreme of the Diva Town Hollywood Pageant (this weekend only, down at the Double Tree in the Grand Ballroom, slash dining room, where you can enjoy tomorrows free continental breakfast), but ambivalent about her child's nutrition while she pours pixie sticks and soda down her gullet.” 

See, I mean it almost like lazy. But like mean lazy. Eyes shut tight.

Indifferent would be the guy checking into the same hotel who see’s the pint size 40 year olds running by to change for the talent competition, and turns to ask the hotel clerk what the code is for the Wi-Fi.

A more correct use would be to say;

“The mother was clearly ambivalent about whether she should have allowed the camera’s to follow her all day, since what her shining star really needs right now is a spanking if they are going to get that crown, but she can’t because it’s on camera.”

What I’m really saying is, I can’t tell you guys how many times I’ve had to pause the reality tv show we are watching to tell Jon, “I need another word that means ambivalent, dammit!”

I am open to suggestions.

Whatever you do…

…do not, I repeat, DO NOT, try and console Rainbow Brite.

Otherwise known in our house as Alice Jean King.

If she is mad at you, don’t tell her you’re sorry. If she falls down, do not ask her where it hurts. Most importantly, never try to hug her if there are tears of any kind present. My fat pink baby/lean pink toddler machine/big girl is THREE today! That means, starting about a week ago, she doesn’t need your pity.

I am so not kidding.

“don’t TOUCH me”

“Go. Way.”

“No. WOOK. At! Me!”

So what’s a mom to do when a baby, I mean a big girl, (with delicious ham hock thighs) plays too hard with the cat and gets a little catty whomp?

Something else!

You have to sit about a foot away, and pretend you have a minor injury of some kind like a splinter, or make your fists into mouthy hand puppets and let them begin some unrelated banter about goldfish and the cost of gas these days.

In about thirty seconds, with giant tears still perched for take off down already wet fat cheeks, she will be chatting and climbing into the human chair I used to call my lap.

Because, according to most three year olds, no idea is worth having if it isn’t your idea.

And I don’t care, because I. LOVE. HER. And her reddy brown hair, and her perfect little nose, and her weirdy weird BRAIN.

Happy Birthday to the best Daughter this mother could ever ask for!!

(even if you were mostly your fathers idea…)

(oh! before I forget, it’s not a costume, it’s better! I got this fantastic apron from Flirty and Fun Aprons by Shawna, you should check it out. She made me a custom order for a toddler, saved me a few bucks, and the quality is top notch! I think this apron is going to see some life in the next few years :)

BOO!

Haha, happy December. Here are my favorite pics from Halloween that I forgot to show you.

(my blog really is like glimpsing into the chaos of my brain, only in my brain they are always serving root beer floats and fried chicken has zero calories and a full serving of fruit and veggies in each drumstick.)

That’s Russell with his class and The Worlds Greatest Kindergarten Teacher. No, that’s not what she was for Halloween, that’s just what she is EVERYDAY. For Halloween she was a hippie :)

He is a piece of paper. It was his idea. I had no idea how I was going to pull it off, but one $8 dollar clearance canvas later, and I think his friends liked it --->

Admittedly, his costume makes more sense when he has his “partner in crayon.” Now where in the world has she gone?

Oh good, I found her. She won’t be 3 for four more days, and she’s already a globe trotter. Where does the time go?!

Sheesh, this post is already awesome and it doesn’t even include the part where the Stewarts were in town with their baby SUSHI

I mean Norah, and how we went to the live concert for So You Think You Can Dance, and Nic fixed our railing so no one would come to our house and DIE. I don’t have pictures of that but you can see some on her much more timely post about the whole affair. I’m not lazy, I’m just… you know. Lazy. :) I have too many darn piece of technology! Phones, cameras and Jon’s new iphone. The pictures of their visit must be on at least 12 different tiny black pocket machines!

I have got to get a better system.

Like my sister who had THESE pictures in my email by November FIRST. Fab costumes and timely picture sharing? Show off.

I forgive her, because she is making small people who are related to me BETTER BY THE DAY. Sheesh, that is a lot of awesomeness for one Halloween!

No go enjoy your Christmas music, WHA-HA-Ha-ha-ha-ha…. (evil laughter?)