Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Hello?
Is this thing still on? Check one.... Check one....
[Feedback.... then silence.]
Hi. My name is Rachael and I'm a terrible blogger. I make apparently-empty promises about writing more and say "yes, yes - I will!" when friends tell me then beg me to blog. It's not even that there's a lack of desire - I've just been busy. Really busy. Crazy-stressful-but-oddly-I-mostly-like-it busy. I think. So I'm not making any promises. But I'm here right now and this is what I got....
My lovelies - Belly and The Bug - turned four in October. They are more like me every day, which is both fascinating and horrifying, but each is like a different side of me. Buggy is the linear me. She's very organized and by-the-book and a straight-A student. Belly is the abstract artist me. She's free-form in thinking and behavior and lives for love. I mean, they are uniquely themselves for sure, but more and more, I'm seeing myself reflected back. It's a total trip. I remember a friend saying that having a kid was the most selfish thing he'd ever done. I didn't really understand that at the time, but now I do. I've recreated whole facets of myself, from looks right down to personality. Sometimes they even swear like me. That part is pretty funny (to me, not Dude). It's like I've said to the world, "Isn't it fun I'm here? Well guess what - here are two more of me! Wheeeeeeee!!!!!" The arrogance is astounding.
They're pretty dang cute, though. This was them on Christmas looking very Buggy (left) and very Belly and not very me at all (okay, that's a lie - they look like me)....
The girls started preschool in September and are totally loving it. It's six blocks away, so we can walk the commute easily. They have made new friends and bring home new art projects every day (it's an arts-focused school). They go Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings - plus we still have our super Nanni come over two afternoons a week - and have begged me to go more. If only money was no object....
So I know you're wondering what I'm doing with all that free time. And I'm guessing that you're guessing cooking. And I'm not. I was totally tricked into a job. Like, a job-job. A real job. Back in early September, my mom invited me to come with her to a meeting that she had with some people who were starting a nonprofit (she does freelance grant writing). The scope and mission of the organization seemed very aligned with my interests (the arts and diversity) and Mom said that I could come with her to hear more about what they were planning in case I wanted to volunteer with them at some point or get involved in some other way. We were driving to the meeting and I said, "Do they even know I'm coming?" Mom said yes. Flash forward twenty minutes and we're all introducing ourselves to each other. Mom says, "And I should mention that Rachael is my daughter." The two (whom I will call K and L) said, "Oh! Well thanks for telling us. That would've been awkward to discover later." Um, what? Why would that be awkward? They continued, "So to whom should we direct most of our questions - you or Rachael?" To which Mom replied, "Rachael." And at that very moment, I realized that I'd been totally, completely, 100% set-up on a this-is-happening-right-now job interview to be the executive director of this fledgling organization. Excuse me, but WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?! I wasn't looking for a job and didn't care if they liked me or not, but the project was certainly compelling, so I decided to be perfectly honest and frank and give the best advice I could and they could think whatever they wanted of me. It was supposed to be a 45 minute meeting and it lasted nearly two hours. About an hour and a half into it, K said, "Look, you are the first person we've interviewed and we agreed that we weren't going to care whether or not we liked you personally so much as did we think you could do the job.... but we REALLY like you AND think you can do the job. What will it take for you to work with us?" All the color probably left my face. Inside I screamed, "NOOOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO WORK AGAIN.... EVER!" And then inside I whispered, "Um, are they asking me to be the executive director of this really fucking cool organization that I can mold and shape and grow into my own?" And then outside I said calmly, "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you by Monday."
I was totally scared. I didn't want to make any commitments. I loved my life of leisure. The last thing I ever wanted to do was go back to the nonprofit world. I had to think about if not spending all my time with the girls was really what I wanted to do. And what about the private chef gig? Right about this same time, a woman who owns a restaurant four blocks from here offered me free use of her kitchen Monday through Friday - an incredibly, incredibly generous offer. I had to decide: path A, path B, or run away. Then my one cooking client told me that they needed to cancel my services. They loved it, but they needed to save money for one of their kids to take a class trip to Spain and my dinners seemed to be the easiest way to do it. Soooo..... be the executive director of something new and exciting or be a private chef who didn't have any clients.... I know that sounds like a no-brainer, but I was really torn. I'm not kidding. I finally decided that the private chef thing could be resurrected at any time, but the executive director gig wouldn't wait. So I did it. I accepted. And here I am, four months later, working like a crazy woman - while the girls are at school, nanny afternoons, late at night a few nights a week, a little on the weekends - squeezing in about 40 hours a week when I don't have 40 hours to give. That makes it stressful. And it's a start-up, which is stressful. And we're constantly trying to raise money to make the next move, which is stressful. But I love our mission and think that ultimately it will be more fun.
And then there are my bosses - K and L. L is a therapist and K is an actor/director and they are a couple and they co-own a corporate coaching consulting company. And they are wonderful. We click in a way that is crazy cool. I told K once that I very much appreciate that he swears as much as me and he said, "Please. I swear as much as you and three motherfuckers combined." Plus they coach executives (like at Nike and Intel) to be effective leaders and communicators. Do you have any idea how much I'm learning from them in that regard? They're basically training me to be a better leader while I lead them. We have a very open communication style and I think that, no matter what happens with this thing we're doing, we'll be great friends for a long time. They're flat-out awesome.
And on top of all of that, I'm feeling almost overwhelmingly creative lately. I know I don't really post them here (hell - I haven't been posting ANYTHING here), but I take a ton of iPhone photos and then do cool things with them - editing and such. I'm sort of really good with the iphonography sort of.... It would be fun to DO something with the thousands of pictures I have. I just don't know what. I've had a fair number of people (5ish) tell me that I should publish a book. That seems so.... foreign. And Dude has said forever that I should make prints and get a coffee house to display them for me (with those cute little price tags next to them). I don't know. I gotta think about this some more.
And that's it for now. Whew. Okay. That felt good. I kind of forgot that I like this whole blogging thing and that's why I started doing it in the first place. Maybe I'll be back here again soon.... In fact, I can pretty much guarantee it because nowhere in here did I mention my big trip to AFRICA coming up. Oh, and that I have twenty-four hours in PARIS on the way home. I'm so not even kidding. I'm so excited, I almost puke every time I think about it. And thanks for hanging with me. You really are fab. Peace out.
Quelles des vacances! And, um, sleeping with my husband just isn't working out.
A week ago, I packed a hanging bag with only items belonging to me, drove my fast car to the airport, handed my passport to the appropriate TSA people, and boarded a plane to Montreal. How grown up! How fancy free! How.... needed.
My brother-in-law, Billy, had a film, The Suicide Tapes, in the Fantasia Film Festival (the largest genre festival of its kind in North America, I might add) and I went to support him. And to hang out with my sister, Erika, because we like each other and we like to eat a shit-ton of good food when we see each other. Always fun. Always.
Let me back up a minute, though, and make something perfectly clear: I hate being scared. I can't understand the logic in wanting to be scared. I don't do haunted houses or scary books or, worst of all, horror films. I have the scare-factor of a little kid so I just avoid that stuff altogether. I'm 36 years old and I have done a pretty good job at this avoidance.... until now. This "genre" film festival was all scary movies. I mean, everything from psychological thriller to slasher to whatever other kinds there are (I don't know because, again, I avoid them). I figured that I would watch Billy's film (it was my understanding that it was creepy, but not really scary, per se) and that would be it. Well, the first night in Montreal, we attended a "filmmaker dinner" before the screening with the guys who made the movie to which Billy's was attached, Absentia. Billy's film is a short and theirs is a feature. Everyone was excited because the screening was one of the few at the festival that had sold out in advance. The Absentia guys were really nice and as we got to know each other a bit, I blurted out, "Hey, listen. I hate scary movies. I get scared really easily - like, REALLY easily. I was planning to cut out on yours, but now I feel a little guilty about that. I'll try to watch it, but I might need to leave. It's nothing personal. But tell me about the movie. Is it gory? Bloody? Are there ghosts? What?" They couldn't believe I was at a horror film festival and hated horror films. But you know, whatever. Technicalities. They assured me that they wouldn't take it personally if I left halfway through the movie. And if I had nightmares, I had permission to slap the filmmaker (there was a second screening of the movies together the following afternoon, so I'd be sure to see him again). It all sounded reasonable to me, but I was still nervous.
We got to the theatre and the crowd was awesome. Packed! The seven of us attached to the films sat on the steps, along the wall - Erika in front, then Billy, me, and the four Absentia guys. It was terrible. And by that, I mean terrifying. I was so tense. I had to keep my eyes covered for a lot of it, but I couldn't block the sound. Ugh. About halfway through the movie, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Good thing I'd slipped my heels off, because I jumped up and practically flew over the others behind me as I bolted out of the theatre doors.
Next thing I knew, I was waking up on the cold floor with two security people standing over me, freaking out. Everything was spinning. I hadn't puked, but I'd most assuredly fainted. They told me not to move. They called paramedics. I insisted on sitting up. The paramedics were there quickly and at first they thought I was drunk; then they thought I was on drugs; and then maybe crazy. As time (minutes) went by and I felt better and better, and let them take my blood pressure, etc., they decided that I'd been so stressed out by the movie that I must've been holding my breath, blocking the flow of oxygen to my brain or something like that. Yeah. Great. Because THAT wasn't embarrassing! Once I drank some water and felt fine again, I went back in the theatre. I sat next to Erika and told her what happened. "What?!" She whispered to Billy what had happened, who whispered to the Absentia guys what happened. Erika also mentioned something about me smacking the shit out of those guys. Again, that sounded reasonable. I kept my eyes averted for most of the rest of the movie.
Finally both movies were done and we went out for drinks as a group. The Absentia guys felt bad, but when they realized that I really was fine, they thought it was super cool that I fainted from fright. I guess that's a pretty good compliment. I guess. I don't know. I can't imagine I'll be watching another scary movie for a long, long time. If ever.
The rest of the vacation was pretty great. We had amazing Japanese food for dinner one night at a teeny, teeny, tiny restaurant named Kazu. The next night we had incredible French at L'Express. We walked all over from downtown to the old city and up to Mont Royal. We went back to Kazu for ramen (only served at lunch). We had poutine. We had crepes - twice. We found a place that made the best iced lattes in the entire world. We ate and ate and ate and ate. It was four full days of being tourists and it was glorious. It was also the longest I'd ever been away from my peeps. I missed them. I was ready to come home and cover them with kisses. Which I did.
Oh! I almost forgot! The second night we were there, our hotel phone rang around 3am. I don't remember it, but Erika says I jumped up in bed but didn't answer it. The next morning, our message light was flashing. Someone had left us an obscene message. It's not totally, totally nasty, but it's pretty bizarre - almost clinical. Here it is, if you're interested (but consider yourself warned that you shouldn't play this at work or in the presence of children):
Changing subjects abruptly, because there is both a) nothing more that can be said about that, and b) there's not an easy way to open this next part (although I realize this is not the most appropriate way, either, for which I'm truly sorry).....
Two nights ago, right after dinner, my husband received a call informing him that his uncle had died in a car accident. Naturally, it was very upsetting. I wanted to be there for Dude. I wanted to offer as much comfort as I could. We put the girls to bed. Dude washed the dishes and went to bed. I stayed up and watched tv, falling asleep in the family room and waking up at 3am. I started to do the usual routine of taking Belly out of my bed (she goes in there sometime around midnight every single night) and putting her back in her own. I then climb in between her and her sister and Dude gets our bed all to himself. That night, though, I thought Dude needed my snuggles more than the girls, so I slipped in next to him. The miracle was that neither girl woke up until 7am, at which time the Bug bounded in demanding to know what was going on - "Why are you in this bed??" The very, very unfortunate turn of events was that neither Dude nor I could sleep. It was fairly uncomfortable sleeping in our bed together. He was hot next to me. And I guess I was a hot lump next to him, too. We're not used to it anymore. There was once a time when I couldn't sleep if he wasn't lying next to me. Now? Forget it. I need two girls who toss and turn throughout the night or no one. What a difference four years make, huh? Dude said it was a nice idea, but maybe next time we try it, we should wait for a weekend when he doesn't have to work the next day. Sigh. This whole situation honestly has me thinking, "What the fuck?"
There is a distinct difference between a bottom and a bum
Screw the fourth. I didn't have an independence day. I had a whole independence weekend! And my oh my it was glorious. Dude took the girls to my mom's for the weekend - leaving Friday afternoon and coming back Monday around 1pm. That whole time, I was fancy free. I got up when I wanted. I made coffee and toast for breakfast. Nobody yelled at me, was rude to me, made unreasonable demands of me. I set out to accomplish absolutely nothing. And that's exactly what I did. Except..... something inside of me snapped. Something strange. If you know me, you know there is pretty much nothing I hate doing more than cleaning. But my house was crazy messy and the toy tornado twins were nowhere in sight. I cleaned up all their kitchen stuff. Then I tackled this big pile that ended up having the kitchen table underneath it. Then I took a break. Then I decided that I wanted to read in the sunroom, but there was too much crap everywhere. So I cleaned it. And then I read on the floor in there. This is how I meandered throughout the whole house and before I knew it, I'd cleaned the entire thing top to bottom. Let me assure you that this is unlike me to the nth degree. But I was sooooo happy to spend the weekend in a clean house. I even entertained some girlfriends on Sunday evening, just like a real grownup - drinks and snacks on the back deck and I didn't have to say, "Please excuse the kid mess. You know how it goes...."
I missed my people a little, but I enjoyed my alone time more. I knew they were gone for a limited time only. And just like that, they came home. I looked a bit like supermom/wife because the house was clean and I had a pie in the oven. Ha! It was all for me, but let them think that I did it for them....
While I lolled around and shirked real responsibility of any kind, they attended a bluegrass festival, waded in the John Day river, got spoiled by Grandma, and spread misinformation about me to a family friend. Apparently that went like this:
My mom's ex-husband lives in the same small town as her. And, despite the fact that he was my stepdad only during a small portion of my adult years, I love that guy. Dude took the girls to hang out with him. He has chickens and a horse and there's not much more appealing to my peeps than that. It was a hot day and Mike wasn't wearing a shirt. Belly asked, "Hey, Mike - is that your belly button?" Yes. "Are those your nipples?" Yes. "Are they private?" Yes. "Hey, Mike - you know what? My mom has hair on her bum. And she has a vagina." NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! You can not understand the horror I felt upon hearing the retelling of this story. I almost puked. For realz. WHY is she telling people about my vagina?! And for the record, they have bottom-bum confusion. We always called the vagina the bottom and the butt the bum. But then we go places and others will tell them "sit down on your bottom" meaning their bums. Thus the confusion. I thought it was no big deal, but now they're going around saying I have hair on my ass! I don't! I swear!
I confronted Belly about this so we could discuss appropriate vs. inappropriate conversation. She didn't care that it was inappropriate. She cared that both Daddy and Mike laughed and laughed. That's right..... laughed and laughed. Sigh. So I guess this means I should be bracing myself for a repeat performance at the next big gathering of people. The kid has a brain like a steel trap. And the next time she's at a loss for something to talk about, I just know this is what she'll bust out. I'm already blushing thinking about it.
Mr. Big makes me happy sometimes
Hi. My beloved Packers are heading to the Super Bowl. Yes, that's the first order of business on the docket. It fills me with such a ridiculous joy that I can't even put words to it. I. Am. Thrilled. THRILLED! And we're going because we beat the stinky Bears. And one of the biggest Bears fans I know is currently sporting a Facebook profile picture of me in Packer wear with a sign that says "Packers Rule, Bears Drool." It really doesn't get much better than that.
In non-sporting news....
We survived Christmas in Wisconsin. It was cold and white and the girls had the best time ever. They were SO into the holiday. We had gone over what would happen Christmas morning a zillion times: "When you wake up, wake me up and ask if it's morning. If it is, then we'll get up, walk down the hall, peek around the corner into the living room, and see if Santa came." Oh you shoulda seen their eyes light up when they saw full stockings, a giant pink dollhouse, and a pile of musical instruments. It was the absolute best! And, of course, as we moved into the opening of presents, they ripped the paper off with wild abandon. Between us and Santa, they got everything they asked for and so much more. Way more. Way too much more. Maybe they're too young to fully appreciate that, but I'm not. I'm very thankful that it didn't cause us any hardship to spoil them this year. As they get older and want bigger, more expensive stuff, this will not always be the case. I'm enjoying it while I can.
Then we came home. Back to the routine. But I had a little ace in my pocket - a wedding in California that I could look forward to. A quick trip by myself to see old girlfriends, wear a sexy dress, drink too much, dance and dance and dance and dance. It was all I had hoped it would be and more. I hadn't seen some of the other wedding guests in 10 years or more and there was something very gratifying about a) picking up right where we left off and b) being told that I looked better than ever. Shallow? Why yes! But who cares? It was fun. And a nice little ego boost. But the best part? Just hanging with some of my best girlfriends, including the bride. In the limo on the way to our post-reception-but-continuing-the-party party at the hotel, the bride insisted that everyone should sing "To Be With You" loudly and proudly. It's the corny stuff like that that I love - not only that she wanted to sing it but that we all knew all the words. We're dorks. And we celebrated that.... with a lot of booze. The morning came, um, a bit too quickly. Back to reality.
But you know what? Reality is pretty cool these days. Dude and I are doing well. Belly and Buggy are cool kids who keep me on my toes in more positive ways than negative lately. Could life be better? Well sure, but I'm trying to be focused on finding the joy in the little things. Sometimes thinking too hard about things leads to over-thinking which leads to seeing every last nugget of what's not "right." I'm just rollin' with my homeys for now.
Father's Day is a wrap!
There's only one hour left of this day and - even though he worked six hours - Dude said this was the best of the three Father's Days that he's had thus far. For starters, we let him sleep in - until nearly 9am! That's about four hours later than a few other mornings this past week. And when he came downstairs, the girls greeted him with resounding declarations of "Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" "Happy Father's Day, Pop!" Oh yes - Belly has decided that she wants to call him Pop. Or Papa. Or sometimes Poppy. It's cute. I handed him his coffee and he admired the art installation that had been hung in the dining room. All week I'd had the girls paint pictures for him and then I added one of my own. I hung everything up on a string with clothespins. There were also cards from each of his daughters and some gift certificates for fun places. But the real focus of today was food - because that is truly the way to Dude's heart.
Dude's favorite breakfast is eggs benedict, so that's what he got. Sorta. Instead of English muffins, I used toasted olive bread. And instead of Canadian bacon, I used pancetta. Plus I added some sauteed spinach and garlic to the pile underneath the poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce.
Only the girls ate lunch - Dude and I were both still full from breakfast.
For dinner, I made boeuf bourguignon and mousse au chocolat using the recipes that I'd been taught on my Denver trip. Both turned out superb! The only problem being that there is a giiiiiant bowl of chocolate mousse in my fridge. It keeps whispering my name. I'm trying to ignore it.
So that was it. We didn't go anywhere or do anything that spectacular (except eat lotsa yummy food), but Dude said it was the best because it was the first time that the girls made a special effort for him. They knew it was "his" day and they liked celebrating it with him. Of course, they're still a little unclear on the concept because they wanted to sing him Happy Birthday, but they understood the special part.
Personally, I'm unbelievably grateful that he is such a wonderful father to our girls. They love him like mad and practically beg for him to be done working everyday (starting around 9am). And the love that he exudes when he's with them makes my heart melt. Complete strangers tell him that they love seeing how he is with his girls. He's just that great of a dad. Happy Father's Day, Dude!
Adventures in camping
I'm back in the land of a zillion half-written posts. Instead of scrapping them, I'm going to finish a few. Like this one...
I like camping. Well, in theory. If all goes according to plan. And it doesn't rain. And I'm not overrun with mosquitoes, other campers, cold, a leaky air mattress or animals. Then I like camping.
Freezing
Dude and I decided that we would introduce the girls to sleeping in the great outdoors Memorial Day weekend and made plans to do a simple one-night excursion into the wilds of Oregon (at a proper campsite in a state park, of course). Dude picked out a destination and told me about it earlier in the week. I said okay. But then I did what I do and that's look into it at the last minute and decide that I wasn't sure it was a good idea. This place looked great if it were just the two of us, but I wasn't sure if our little peeps would really be into hot springs. You know - because they're TWO? Yeah. Oh. And the springs are "clothing optional." It could be low-key or it could be skeezy guys getting woody looking at my children. I didn't really want to find out. So at the very, very, very last chance I had to pull the trigger, I said I wanted to do something else. Because THAT doesn't cause an argument.
Instead, we drove up to Astoria - where the Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean. You may know it better as the place where Goonies was filmed. That's right - Goonies. And we were only a week shy of being there for the big 25th anniversary celebration of its release, complete with a visit from Sean Astin and a performance by Corey Feldman's band. How did I not plan accordingly?? I only half jest. It would've been a hilarious scene. Anyway. We explored this cute, touristy town a bit and then went out to the state park to try to locate a campsite - on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. Ha! After some internet digging and phone calls (thanks, trusty iPhone), we found a campground on the Washington side of the river called Cape Disappointment State Park that had tent spots available. Cape Disappointment? I must admit that I did not have high hopes.
But I was wrong! Cape Disappointment was right on the Pacific and we walked to the beach and there were cool tidal pools and amazing driftwood and a beautiful lighthouse. It was PERFECT. Well, except for the fact that it was effing cold and raining the whole time. Oh yes - it rained the whole entire time. Because I love that. Because that doesn't put a damper on, well, everything. The girls loved, loved, loved sleeping in the tent, though. The four of us climbed into one double sleeping bag and stayed toasty warm. And the next morning, after a thoroughly drenching walk to the beach to look at bright orange and purple starfish in the pools, Dude packed up the tent and its contents while I put the girls in the truck, blasting the heat on high, and got dry clothes on everyone.
So basically, it was a sorta sucky experience of which we made the best. I think we'll definitely take the girls camping again, but only if the forecast calls for clear skies and lots and lots of warmth. Nonetheless, here are some pictures:
Sea lions on the docks in Astoria
The back of our truck - loaded for ONE overnight; having kids sure requires a lot of crap
The tent during the only five minutes of sunshine
Giant driftwood teeter-totter
My kids running - with their coats on - into the ocean
Freezing
Happy freaking Valentine's Day
Last weekend was, clearly, the big romantic gesture from Dude and I certainly did not expect anything like that again for Valentine's Day. We're usually more of the Valentine's card and a nice dinner kind of folks anyway - not buying into the giant boxes of chocolates, dozens of roses, etc. But Dude informed me earlier in the week that we were going somewhere for a "family Valentine's thing" on Saturday at 5pm. I pried for clues and was told that it was inside and I didn't need to make dinner. Hm. That could pretty much mean dinner anywhere. Fun!
So Friday late afternoon found me exceptionally tired and crabby with my throat starting to hurt. Uh oh. We ate dinner and I basically went to bed with the girls, falling asleep around 8:30pm. I awoke Saturday morning at 7am feeling fine. Fashew! Crisis averted! Because moms don't get sick. I'm just not allowed to. It doesn't work.
Needless to say, there was a no celebrating of the day of the Valentine on Friday.
Saturday morning found us with one sick little Buglet - nasty cough, thoroughly runny nose, slight fever. Poor kid. We spent the morning being pretty chill, then Dude watched them for about 3 hours in the afternoon so that I could leave the house by myself for a break (lord knows I need those as often as I can). When I came home, Buggy seemed so-so and Dude said that she would be fine for what he had planned. So, off we went to... FIVE GUYS! I love me a little bacon cheeseburger with all kinds of stuff on it. Yuuuuuummmmmm. Anyway. Bug's health proceeded to go downhill rapidly while we there, including somehow getting a diaper wedgie and peeing all over my lap just as our food was ready. No really - Happy Valentine's Day family dinner. Good times.
Both girls fell asleep as we drove home. We changed them, got 'em in jammies, and called bedtime early. Dude laid down with them, as he does every night. It took forever for Buggy to fall asleep soundly enough for him to get up, though. Finally, finally he came downstairs... and announced he didn't feel very well, had a major headache, was going to do the dishes and go to bed. Which meant that I took off the little number I had hidden under my sweats and shoved it beneath the futon. Sigh.
Today, the Bug is more sick than yesterday (including puking on the couch) and Belly's cough is getting worse. I'm not even going to allow myself to think that there might be some sort of romantic anything with my husband tonight to celebrate this day of amour.
But I sincerely hope that you and yours have done something spectacular to mark the day. I've been living vicariously through my friend on Facebook who posted pictures of her hot air balloon ride. Obviously, she does not have kids.
A new year, a new boyfriend, and some Little House on the Prairie
Whelp, lemme tell you that NYE was perfectly fine. Dude and I got some amazing Indian takeout, opened yummy wine, made a fire, put a Muse station on Pandora and talked well past midnight. It wasn't a wild dance party, but it certainly wasn't boring either. Sometimes it feels like we get so bogged down in parenting (and bills and chores but especially parenting) that we lose track of each other. It's such a challenge to balance (his) work time, family time, alone time and couple time. There's just not enough time in the day. Or sometimes the week. Or - I hate to admit this, but it's true - the month. I'm not talking physical intimacy here, but bonding, engaging couple time wherein we're not discussing Belly and Buggy the whole time. New Year's Eve found the two of us having just that kind of special time - and both acknowledging that we need to find more of it. So, I'm taking a boyfriend in 2010. And that boyfriend is Dude.
And with that, we had a date on Saturday night! Bri babysat and we went to HUB for dinner, followed by bowling at Grand Central Bowl. SO fun! I think I've bowled exactly twice (counting last night) in the last 12 or 13 years. It's really an activity that requires alcohol. The more I drink, the better I am. We played two games with pretty pathetic scores - the first he won 85-83 and the second I won 111-100. I think with another vanilla vodka and coke and one more game, I may have broken 150. I might also have puked.
So complete non sequitor...
I have two Little House on the Prairie tidbits for you. The first is from McSweeney's and I thought it was hilarious!
The second is a beautiful set of LHOTP coasters that Erika made for me for Christmas. Check it:
Aren't they fantastic? I love them!!
*yawn*
It's New Year's Eve and I wish that I was going to tell you about the exciting plans that Dude and I have tonight - something involving having a babysitter, getting dolled up and going out to act like fools. Alas. That is not the case. Our big plans? Take-out after the girls are asleep. Dude mentioned something about having a quiet evening by the fire. I don't know how to say this any more clearly - NO. I will not spend my evening reading on the love seat on one side of the fire while he lies on the other love seat reading his book. Do you remember that scene from Singles where they're sitting at the table reading the paper and Kyra Sedgwick is bored out of her skull? That's what that sounds like to me. I will not allow it. I'm thinking maybe I'll get all dressed up, "spin" some tunes, open wine and have a dance party. He can join me if he wants. Otherwise, I'll act the fool by myself. Someone has to.
Part 1: Christmas recap and Part 2: The Horror
Part 1: Christmas recap
Hi Friends. We got home from our whirlwind Christmas vacation just a few short hours ago. We went to my sister Molly's house just outside of Little Rock, AR and a super swell time was had by all. For reals. It was beyond wonderful to see that side of my family and to show off Belly and the Bug. Plus I got to meet my little niece who was named after me (I can hardly believe she's 18 months old and this was the first time I'd met her in-person). We had tons of good food and drink (a constant with my family), lots of game-playing (another constant), and overall Christmas Happiness. Top that off with no drama and it was pretty damn near perfect! Except for one thing...
Part 2: The Horror
Erika and Molly and I thought it would be fun to leave the kids with the husbands and have a "sisters afternoon" - go to a movie, get pedicures, maybe do a little shopping. Molly and I both have little kids, so these particular activities are sadly lacking from our lives on any sort of consistent basis. We saw "Up in the Air" and I loved it. I laughed. I thought I might cry at one point. I truly loved it. Then we went for pedicures. I picked out a lovely shade of almost-black-purple and was all set. As they were leading me to the chair, I asked if I could also get a brow wax (this place was a salon and they clearly offered waxing services). The woman said yes and suggested she do that first. Great! I followed her into the waxing room. I told her "not too thin, please" and put my head back on the pillow. She leaned over me. "Hmmm. Do you want a lip wax, too?" Uh, okay. Sure. Clearly there was a need. And with that, she went to work. It seemed like she was taking a lot off the eyebrows but you know what? It feels like that EVERY time I get waxed. Then she did the upper lip. Then she went back to the brows to do some tweezing. She didn't put anything on the upper lip to calm it down while she did that and I could feel the region tingling in a not-good way. Finally she put some calming oil everywhere and gave me a hand mirror. What Had She Done To My Face? No really. What the friggledy-frug did she think "not too thin, please" meant?!?! Had she gone any thinner, my brows would've been completely gone and needed to be drawn on. I was stunned, horrified, at a total loss for words. We walked out to the pedicure chairs where I freaked as quietly as possible - texting Erika in the chair next to me and trying not to cry. Erika assured me that yes, they were thin but not weird-looking. She had to say that, though. It was pretty obvious that I was on the verge of losing my shit. I could not enjoy my pedicure. It was finally all over and we left. Erika informed me that she had been cut by the cuticle scissors and the nail tech had tried to hide it by putting her foot in the water. What?! Molly came out unscathed but will not be returning to that particular establishment. UGH.
That was yesterday. Today I think the eyebrows are way too thin but no, not totally bizarre - just strange on MY face. I look forward to them growing back in. Additionally, my upper lip has decided to take 24 hours to totally break out. Yep - Dude actually asked me when we got home this evening if I was having an allergic reaction to something. And when I said that it was just further trauma from the waxing yesterday, he asked incredulously, "You got your lip waxed?! I didn't know you did that!" He looked at me like I had just told him I have a giant walrus mustache that I shave every day. This just keeps getting better and better...
The Story of Christmas, by Belly and The Bug
"Baby Jesus on porch wearin' washcloth. Baby Jesus daddy [is] Santa Claus. Santa Claus sleigh jingle bells; ding-a-ling-a-ling! Santa Claus bringin' pretzels. Thanks, Santa Claus!"
Ya gotta love it.
Another family holiday under the belt
And by under the belt, I truly mean under the belt. I think I've eaten my weight in creamy dips and chocolate-peanut butter balls in the past four days. I need salad...
I'd say Thanksgiving was uneventful, but that's not entirely true. My mom and all of her kids (there are six of us) were together. We played a TON of games - Apples to Apples, Quiddler, Yahtzee, Scrabble, Boggle - and had an equal amount of fun. We also teased/harrassed each other mercilessly. It seems like everyone can dish it out, but not everyone can take it. And as is the case at many of our family gatherings, we parted with some sadness and some relief. I personally parted with an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness that I can still fit into my jeans.
The girls had a great time at Grandma's house. We forgot to bring their high chairs, so meal times were much more loosey goosey than usual and they thoroughly enjoyed it. They also ate only about half as much as they usually do. Buggy actually spent most of the holiday sick. She had a fever that kept spiking (at one point hitting 102.7 degrees) and she vomited twice. All of her symptoms eventually vanished and we have no clue what was the cause of this crappiness. She somehow managed to remain upbeat throughout the whole ordeal. If the tables were turned, I would've been decidedly crabby. What a great kid!
Now here I sit - fat, exhausted and about to start the craziness of Christmas prep. Maybe I'll take a few days off first.
Thankful
I have 90 other things I'm supposed to be doing right now: clearing the dishes off the table, folding laundry, cleaning up the kid debris that is all over the floor, making caramelized onion dip, baking pecan pies. And I will do all those things in the next two hours, but first I'm having a teensy glass of wine and writing this here post. Erika, Billy and D will be here in about two hours. Sissy is bringing them from the airport and I think Bri is coming over as well. I want the house to look good, blah, blah. But this is my last 10 minutes of quiet before the holiday officially begins.
I used to be better about the holidays. I absolutely love getting together with everyone and eating and playing games. It's the best! But as I get older, I'm finding that I have less patience for avoidable chaos. I have a harder time just going with it. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's because I've got two kids who thrive on structure that has made me way more structured than I ever was before. Whatever it is, I fear I'm getting a little uptight. So I'm focusing on being as easy going as I can be this holiday week. Everyone will have their own plans and agendas and I'm going to do my best to go with the flow. I am going to endeavor to only lay down the law when it comes to my girls and nap times and bed times and stuff like that. Because, my peeps, I need to get over the little things and give thanks for all the things this holiday is bringing my way.
I am fortunate enough to have multitudes of things for which to be thankful, so I'm only going to highlight a few (as I said, there's pie to bake!). And with that, I'm thankful for pie. I am beyond thankful for my tremendous family. We're something of a motley crew (as opposed to Motley Crue - I shared a wink with Tommy Lee once, but he is decidedly not in my family) and I really wouldn't have it any other way. I am thankful that I don't have to work right now and get to spend so much time with my growing daughters. I am thankful that we always have enough food - and it's good, organic stuff. I am thankful we have the Charmer to provide us shelter and warmth. I am thankful for all of my friends (who really fall in that motley family category). And I am thankful to have health insurance, a reliable vehicle, and my Wusthof knives. And also? I'm thankful for you, Internet Friends. I can't tell you how nice it is to have something - this here blog - that is mine all mine. I like writing it. I like hearing from you. It's an entirely good thing. There. Okay. I gotta go. I just heard the dryer stop.
Chri$tma$
I bought our plane tickets to Arkansas for Christmas. $800 each for four tickets. If you can do simple math, then you know that I just spent $3200 to go to ARKANSAS from OREGON. Just for fun - and because we had talked about going there in 2010 - I priced flying to Germany for 10 days in March. They were only $80 more per ticket. Needless to say, we will not be able to do both Arkansas and Germany in the next year, so Arkansas it is. It hurts, people. It hurts. And don't get me started on the fact that those tickets were the cheapest I could find, they're on Southwest Airlines, and we have two stops in each direction.
BUT... I'm excited to be going. I can't wait to see my dad and stepmom, my sister Molly, her husband Stan and my two nieces, ages 4 and 18 months. Plus Erika, Billy and D are going to be there. Fun! Molly and I have already bought coordinating Christmas jammies for the little girls so we can take unbelievably cute/tacky pictures of them together (consider that your notice that I will be posting these unbelievably cute/tacky pictures after the holidays).
Thinking of Christmas, however, invariably leads me to think about purchasing gifts for everybody. It's a pretty huge and pricey undertaking. In my family, everybody gets everybody else a gift (couple gifts are acceptable, though). Dude and his sibs stopped exchanging gifts a few years ago. Now we just buy gifts for each other's kids. But even so, there are twenty-one family members for whom I need to purchase gifts. This does not include Dude, Belly and Buggy. Let's say that I spend $25 per person, that's $525 + Dude + my kids = more than I can afford. SERIOUSLY. How did the holidays get so effing expensive? My family (the side that is my mom and her kids) is considering starting a new tradition next year wherein we each purchase one cool gift that anyone would be happy to have and then play a game to dole out the gifts. I'm assuming we'll still do gifts for all the kids, but this seems like an extremely reasonable solution to the high cost of adult gift giving. Anyone have other suggestions? Keep in mind that my family's Christmas is all about food and family (meaning, no religious activities or observances involved that would take the place of tearing open a mountain of gifts in about 8.7 seconds flat).
Heavy, then happy, then hysterical
Heavy
Belly's eye surgery got scheduled today. December 16th. The day after my 35th birthday. I almost starting crying after I got off the phone. I know this is the right thing to do - so much so that it's pretty much in the "no brainer" category - but I feel sick about it. I cannot wait for all of this to be over.Happy
On a happier note, the basement seems to have made it out of the water debacle unscathed! Everything is dry and clean and seemingly fine. Wahooooo!! Now I can spend all that money on Christmas presents (because Lord knows that's not hard to do). I've bought a few things already and I'm getting a little excited. I have always been a staunch believer in waiting to break out the Christmas cheer until after Thanksgiving is over. It only seems fair, right? But this year, I can't help it. For whatever reason that I can't explain, I'm gettin' downright cheery already! Maybe it's because this is the first year that the girls will be able to understand what's going on (to a certain extent). Or maybe it's because we're going to my sister's house in Arkansas and I haven't seen her family and my dad and stepmom in well over a year. Or maybe it's because this year is bound to be better than last. Or maybe it's all those retail ads that have been bombarding me since before Halloween (which is beyond wrong). I will try to contain it until after Thanksgiving, but I can't make any promises. I've already belted out "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" once this week. And I'm downright giddy thinking about watching "The Year Without A Santa Clause." Bring. It. On.
Hysterical
You know what's been cracking me up every time I think about it? The other day, the girls and I were driving somewhere and running late, as usual. The section of SE Division we were on has two lanes in each direction, but there was a truck in front of me driving down the center of the two lanes like it was one big lane just for him. I normally would've let the litany of expletives flow forth (Pick a lane, you blankety-blanker with your big blanking truck, thinking you own the mother-blanking road. Get out of my blanking way!), but I've been trying incredibly hard to have some restraint around the girls. So I said, "Dang it! Move over, TRUCK!" Pretty good, huh? But as soon as I said it, the Bug let out a long string of, "Dang it! Dang it, Daddy! Dang it! C'mon, Daddy. KA-MON, DADDY!" I totally whooped aloud as I tried to hold back laughing. It sounded exactly like me. I mean, EXACTLY like me. I immediately called Dude to apologize for saying that. I haven't the faintest clue when I said it or to what it was in reference, but I obviously said it. There can be no doubt.
My friend's two-year-old daughter outdid the Bug, though. The other day as they were driving along, my friend heard a little voice from the back say, "That's not a lane, jackass!" Sometimes it's a really, really funny thing to see - or hear - yourself in your child.
The Switcheroo!
Thanks, Eleanor's Mommy, for sending me a picture of the family on Halloween with our last-minute costume changes! Funny - it looks like I'm at a Halloween party with my kids and some dude just happened to sit down near us...
Halloween highlights
I'm feeling awfully lazy at the moment, so in lieu of a real post I give you a list of highlights from this Halloween weekend:
- The girls exclaimed repeatedly, "Happy DeeDee (birthday), Halloween!" Clearly we've had some holiday cross-contamination.
- We went to a kiddie Halloween party on Saturday afternoon and I let Belly eat a couple cookies. I have heard "Cookie, please!" about 763,921 times since then.
- As we were about to get ready for said party, I had the brilliant idea of changing up our costumes. So Belly and I went as "a little bit country" and Buggy and Dude were "a little bit rock 'n roll." Is it good or bad that Dude and I can easily outfit ourselves in either of these persuasions? (Sadly, I forgot to bring my camera to the party and don't have pictures of our switcheroo.)
- I balanced the checkbook for the first time since July. THAT was a chore.
- The girls were introduced to Elvis the dog and Poncho the bunny at my aunt and uncle's house today. YOU try to decipher between "Daddy's office" and "Doggy Elvis." It ain't easy.
- The Packers lost to Brett Favre and the Vikings today. Ack.
- I've gained 23 pounds since Friday eating candy, cookies, cake, pie, dips and chips, bacon-bleu-cheese burgers with french fries, beer-boiled-then-grilled bratwurst and potato salad, and drinking lots and lots of beer. You know the expression "you are what you eat?" Well, I think it's pretty obvious that I ate the brats.
Oktoberfest!
Remember how I was so adamant just last week about that Laurelwood beer being my favorite? Well, I forgot about the molasses-goodness of Paulaner Oktoberfest. It is dang tasty! Last night, Dude, the girls, me, Bri and her boyfriend all went to the Rheinlander for their Oktoberfest celebration. See - Dude is German. Or rather, he's of German descent but don't tell him that. He's GERMAN as far as he's concerned and most people that know him know that fact. He loves German food, beer, beer-swigging songs, people, the language, The Sound of Music, knows tons of German history, etc. It's hard to believe that he's never actually been to Germany (except when we had a layover one time at the Frankfurt airport for a few hours), but that's our next anticipated big international trip. My whole point is this: Oktoberfest is a big effing deal in our household. Now back to last night...
We feasted on fondue with bier sausage and dark rye bread then we had two kinds of schnitzel (weiner being my personal fav) and Bri and her fella both had German meatballs. And apple strudel. And delicious, delicious beer. I had both Warsteiner and Paulaner Oktoberfest beers, but the Paulaner is consistently the best year after year. I strongly encourage you to seek it out and imbibe. And maybe stop by my house so you have a drinking buddy? I can probably get Dude to sing us some German songs while we knock it back...
Rheinlander had a room that was designated as the Kids' Pavilion for the festivities and they had organic sno-cones (we weren't sure what Oktoberfest tradition these were upholding), face painting and a crazy, crazy balloon guy. He had this running commentary on everything happening around him and his quasi-screechy voice became grating after a very short period of time. BUT he made awesome balloons and the girls were intrigued. He made them both punch-ball balloons. I asked Belly if she liked it and she hugged it VERY tightly and said, "LIKE IT! LIKE IT!" She kept randomly saying "Like it, like it" throughout the rest of the night. It was very cute.
Today was filled with lots of balloon tossing, chasing, squeezing and biting. Belly loves the squeaky sound of her teeth on the balloon. I know this will end badly and I keep warning her, but so far there have been no pops.
The girls are expanding their verbal skills at an incredible rate. It's awesome! We're not quite at complete sentences, but very close. They are using words to express their likes, dislikes, demands and desires. Tonight when I told Buggy that I was about to make dinner, she said, "Mommy. Dinner. Yummy fish." I said I was going to make something different. She said, "No. Yummy fish." So "yummy fish" made its way onto the menu this evening. Who knew that I'd be taking dinner requests from a one-year-old? But so long as it's not crap food, why not?
P.S. Happy birthday, Bri!
Hi. I've missed you.
The Heat Miser has been having some fun with Portland this week. We've had record-setting temps for the last few days - 103, 106, 106 again. All of this equals, well...pure hell. You see, most houses (including ours) and many, many businesses do not have air conditioning because it's not usually necessary except for a few days each year. To make matters worse, I am VERY VERY whiney in extremes of hot and cold. I become incredibly lethargic and am hard-pressed to get anything accomplished - like getting dressed, eating, etc. I have had to suck it up, though, because of these little girls and we have been incredibly focused on staying cool. I even organized a trip to the coast with several other moms and kids day before yesterday. When all else failed, we hung out in the family room, which is our finished basement, because it was only in the 80s down there. Dude has been working at coffee shops all week to find some reprieve from the heat. Our main floor has been hitting 100 degrees mid-afternoon and upstairs (where you can find Dude's office and our bedrooms) has been easily 110. I wish this was an exaggeration. We've all been sleeping in the family room and first thing every morning, I've been getting everything we need for the day from upstairs.
This is my long explanation as to why I haven't been blogging. I've been too hot. Seriously. That's it. There's not a table in the family room upon which to put my laptop and it's simply been too hot to have it on my lap. Then, this morning, it wasn't so hot. I checked the forecast, even though I'd last checked it last night about 11pm AND IT HAD BEEN CHANGED! Instead of a high of 100, it's 94. YESSSSSS! So here I am. And there you are. Hi. How are you? I like your shirt.
It took us FOREVER to get home from Wisconsin. We ended up sitting in the Minneapolis airport for three hours before they put us on the plane - they needed to fix an engine gauge. It would've been fine, but they started getting dumb about it. They would make an announcement saying what time they were going to give us an update and put that time up on the monitor, but when that time came, they wouldn't give an update and just changed the time on the monitor to half an hour later. This created very cranky travelers and could have been easily avoided. The last time they did this, I thought there was going to be anarchy. When the newly appointed time of 5pm rolled around, most people stood and glared toward the desk. But the woman behind the counter picked up her little microphone and said, "We'll begin boarding first class..." and there was a loud sigh of relief in the gate area. I feared she was going to be taken down if she said that we still didn't know when the repairs would be complete. Nice save, lady.
It was a very full plane and people were practically jubilant to be boarding. We all took our seats quickly and then...nothing happened. We waited. And waited. And waited. There was no announcement from the cockpit. Nothing. The flight attendants walked through the plane with water and cups. People started demanding to know what the HELL was going on here. Forty-five minutes after we boarded the plane, the captain announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay. The plane is in perfect condition, but the catering truck broke down on the way to our plane and that delay caused another problem. This flight crew cannot go to Portland because we will be exceeding the FAA-mandated length of a duty day. So...we're waiting for a new flight crew to come on board and take you to Portland. I'm waiting for a call back from the airport's crew captain to let me know when they'll be getting here. Sorry about that, folks." And so we got up and walked with the girls. I went into the back of the plane to get some water. People were helping themselves to peanuts and sodas and $5 snack-packs. Anarchy had indeed taken over. One of the flight attendants came in back to get her stuff before deplaning and she had to ask nicely to get to the cooler where her thermos was kept. She didn't make eye-contact and moved quickly. None of this was her fault, but she was no dummy. The new crew finally arrived - an hour and 45 minutes after we'd boarded, nearly 5 hours since we were scheduled to depart - and they passed out $100 vouchers and free headsets to everyone. Instant heroes. Dude complained at the Portland airport and they gave us each additional $250 vouchers. The biggest saving grace? Neither girl pooped during the whole ordeal. Brilliant.
Here's a funny aside: When we were checking in at the Green Bay airport, Dude put one of our suitcases up on the scale, then took it off and put up the other, then took it off and put Belly up there. He was all, "Ooops!" with a big grin to the woman at the counter. "That's probably breaking a ton of rules, huh?" And she confirmed that it was. So he took her off and put the Bug on the scale so we could see how much she weighed, too. The woman behind the counter just cooed over how cute they were. You gotta love small town airports. And for the record, they each weigh 26 pounds even.
Here are a coupla pictures from our trip:
Classic Wisconnie pics
The Bug
Belly (with Dude)
Boating family
(you may notice that is the same boat from the Bond film "Live and Let Die" - how very tres cool of my in-laws when they bought it 25ish years ago)
Both girlies
Aren't the girls adorable?? That's a rhetorical question. I'm not even posting all of the ridiculously cute nudie pictures of the girls at the lake. Those will be emailed directly to the grandparents. Here are two last pics, though, from about a week before our trip.
Kissy Sissies
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