Monday, April 09, 2012

"I'm DONE With This Dirt!"


We have all been there.
D.O.N.E.
Just over it.

In this case, Isaac's famous words referred to actual dirt. 
We were wandering a half mile trail through Usery Park when we came across a fork connecting us up with another trail. 
We got adventurous.
We turned onto the other trail.
Which was a two and a half mile trail. 
We figure we caught it with about 2 miles left to go...

The sun began to go down.
We heard coyotes.
We got a little tired...

(and perhaps a little nervous that we had turned down a trail taking us to Egypt).

...and no other words captured the general feeling better than Isaac's profound
"I'm done with this dirt!"

A phrase that has since found its permanent place within our home.

Some examples of other
dirt I am done with:
Drama Queens.
Negativity.
Taxes.
Whitney.
(The sitcom.)
(Ever since the dramatic recent story line change - they have lost me I'm afraid.)
Muffin Top.
 (The tummy one, not the yummy one.)
 (I caved and bought the size up pair of jeans I have been working on since the holidays.)
 (Just one pair though. And I will never tell you the size.)

Isaac. Hiking South Mountain. New dirt.


Thursday, June 10, 2010

We May Be On To Something...

If we have spoken recently, then I could not resist monopolizing a bit of your time griping about Isaac's laid back approach to potty training. 

He is in this constant state of evolution, as is the case with most 3 year olds, and I am discovering new things about his personality daily. 

Today's discovery = Possible passive-aggressive tendencies. 

Observe:


Perhaps you, like Pumpkin, are unsure of what you are looking at.
Here's a close-up...


It may be a bit optimisic of me, but I am going to consider this a sign that things are moving in the right direction.




Thursday, May 13, 2010

I Have Sinned.

I have taken a harlot, and her name is Thrifty's Chocolate Malted Krunch Ice Cream.

Even I, at my most faithful and strong, was powerless against her powers of seduction. 
Beware!
Bring her into your home and she will have you eating right out of her carton with an oversized spoon before you can say muffintop.



Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Hello?...


I have a disorder that prevents me from picking up the telephone.   I want to, but just as I am reaching for the receiver I notice that I left 2 piles of unfolded laundry on the living room floor...

I go to fold the laundry and half way through I notice one of Joey's dirty T-shirts discarded in the pile...

I march that T-shirt to the laundry room in a huff, and while I am there I get a whiff of the cat litter box.  That's Not My Job Darn It, so I go to add it to the honey-do list...

The list has magically disappeared from the counter, so I have to scrap for a yellow pad in the office, and when I find one I must re-create the list of course.

I want the list to be seen, so I must clear all clutter from the kitchen counter and place it right smack in the middle all alone for emphasis. 

While I am admiring the beautiful honey-do list on the otherwise cleared kitchen counter, I remember I was going to make a phone call, but as I am glancing at the phone I realize I need to use the ladies' room, and there are rules, you know...  Um... Just a minute...

I go upstairs because my own toilet is the only one I trust to be its cleanest at all times, and while I am climbing the stairs I gripe about this, and when I arrive I notice the toilet paper roll was left empty.

Cool. 

I run (read: RUN!) back downstairs and find that the downstairs bath is also paper-free.

Not cool.

I run (RUN!) to the clock and realize that the kids will be home from school in about 30 minutes and grab my keys and (RUN!) out the door to squeeze in an emergency trip to the store...

While I fumble for my keys, I once again notice the phone, but my pressing bladder grants me permission to dismiss it, AND the half folded pile of laundry....

On the way to the store I think about all the stuff I want to say on the phone.  I also hope the store restroom is clean and that they have those handy paper thingies to sit on, because my legs are sore from Pilates and I am not in the mood to hover.  And, when you call in a few days I will actually remember having been on the phone with you all day and think you are crazy for thinking I didn't call.

'Cept that I am the crazy one.   'Cause I have this disorder that keeps me from picking up the telephone...




HOW DO YOU DO IT, PEOPLE?  


Do you have anything you just can't seem to do, no matter how simple it seems?

Friday, March 26, 2010

Wonderful Wonderland


Well, we think so anyhow.
Saw this in 3D with the little ones and it got 2 thumbs up from everybody.
Is it the movie of the year? Probably not, but if you love your storybook adventures like we do, then you will enjoy it.

And, well, you know that no amount of make-up can make Johnny go wrong for me.

I have seen it 3 times.
No shame.

P.S. When did the scrappy blue-red 3D glasses get the upgrade to plastic ones that actually work and wear well? I was dreading the 3D until I got a pair of those bad boys - now I am all about it!
See it in 3D with the fancy glasses!
Posted by Picasa

Thursday, February 04, 2010

All Hail The King!


King of my heart.
King of the TV remote control.
King of the chocolate milk. And don't you forget that. Because if you dare touch the king's chocolate milk,
then off with your head.

And, King of Getting Into Everything.

Seriously, he gets into everything.

Like the bathroom cupboards.
It brings the king great joy to host his own private q-tip and cottonball snowdays right here in Arizona.

And also the freezer.
Because cool things happen to things from the freezer that you hide in other places, like the clothes dryer.
Especially bags of frozen chicken breasts in the clothes dryer.
Great fun.

And my secret stash of Hot Tamales.
(Sorry about that one Your Highness... if I had known the King was so adept at maneuvering counter height stools to upper kitchen cabinets I may have chosen to crave a less spicy treat. Or hide it better...)

And, today,
Ah, yes,
today he was the king of getting into the teensy space between the driver's seat of my car and the console, from which he extracted my cell phone so that he could call Dora the Explorer.

(!)

Yep, the same cell phone that has been missing for about 4 days.

Royal treatment earned.

The End.
Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

O' Cell Phone, Where Art Thou?


Ever lose your cell phone, but not realize it until the battery had run down?

Stinks to be me right now.

P.S. If you need me, don't call my cell phone.
(Until further notice.)
(Hopefully nearer than further notice.)

If I used swear words, I would cut one loose right now.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

I DO NOT Like Green Eggs & Ham...


And you shouldn't either. 




For example:

IF your family decided to go on a 4 day roadtrip,
and IFduring the early morning hours on the first day of the roadtrip your parents bought 6 Breakfast Jack sandwiches from Jack in the Box for breakfast-on-the-go,
and IF only five of the six sandwiches were eaten that morning because your little sister wasn't really hungry that morning...

I'm just saying...

IF, on the way home from your roadtrip during the evening hours of day four you discover that your sister had stashed her Breakfast Jack from day number one under the seat of the car,
and IF you realized that dinner time was nearing and you were feeling quite hungry,

IF this happened to you,
I would still recommend that you pass on eating the 4-day-old Breakfast Jack.
Strongly.

And,
had he asked,
I would have advised my eldest son the same thing.

And now he knows why.

Shortly after arriving home from seven hours on the road, my son experienced several rounds of the most spastic hurling he had ever known.
And I experienced the cleaning up of the first several rounds of it.

Once color returned to his face, my son recounted a not-so-hypothetical story about a boy and a petrified Breakfast Jack very similar to the example I just shared with you.
Very, very similar.

I would be a little grumpy right now except for the part at the end, when my son says to me "Mom, I am so sorry, you probably would have told me not to eat it.  I should listen to you more."

And then the angels started singing.

You can't buy that kind of education.

The End.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas!!




I have missed you! 
I hope that you are making wonderful moments with your friends and family like I am.

I am looking forward to spending more time with you in the New Year.  Until then, well, my holiday hiatus continues while I eat pie, then go to the gym to work off the pie... play with my kids, then hide the toys without volume control... make lovely meals presented on lovely tables to serve to lovely people... lovely lovely lovely... 

Be back soon!!
X's and O's

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

My Theme For The Week:

And I just love this one...


"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."


-Scholar, Joseph Campbell

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

It's All About the Ice Addiction...


The hundreds of naughty late-night runs to Sonic...
The gallons of Diet Dr. Pepper consumed...

(Be honest - Diet Dr. Pepper does not truly capture the essense of  "The Original Taste That I Love So".)

What keeps us running out at 10:38 P.M.
on nights when we really should be sleeping
because tomorrow is a holiday which means no school
which means all kids at home
which means I will need energy
and therefore sleep...

What keeps us running out to Sonic
paying for AND drinking soda that I do not love
on nights like tonight

is crunchy ice balls.
And large red straws.

But mostly the ice balls.

(I come from a lineage of notorious ice-chompers.)
(We promise not to do it if we are out to eat with you.)

I chug down soda after soda as a necessary evil to get to the ice.



Sonic + Ice Balls = Genius.

I would give up my car if I could have a freezer that made ice like Sonic.

I wouldn't need it anymore because perfect little ice balls would already be in my house 
(chilling every drink and not just bad soda)
negating any need for late night Sonic runs.

Is there a 12-Step Program for my ice addiction?

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Happy Birthdays!




Two people I love are celebrating today!
You know who you are.

I Love you!

Love, Me.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Tricked-Out for Treats!

Happy Halloween!

Our family is still recovering from a weekend of sugar highs and subsequent crashes.  It is a lovely thing when Halloween  falls on a weekend.  I don't feel the need to pin disclaimer notes to my childrens' backpacks for what their teachers are about to experience...

For Example:

**Teacher Beware!**
Kids + Holiday + Sugar + Lack of Sleep + School = Disaster

I would keep my children home after holidays like these, except for that teensy part of me that considers these times payback for randomly scheduled half-days and teacher development vacations.

Ah well, this year we all got off easy. 

About The Costumes:

Grandma Loree decided to have a "Choose your own costume" theme party at her home, where the kids got to assemble costumes out of stuff she had "around". 
I am big enough to admit that I did not even need to see the costumes and I was already a little scared.
I am also big enough to admit when I am wrong.

(This time.) 
(Don't get used to it.)

The home-grown costumes were GREAT!
Have a look-see:

Secret Agent J



Dancing Queen:























My Mini Wahine.























Grandma Loree:
I thank you. 
My pocketbook thanks you.
Yay for grandmas!

Isaac adhered himself to this little lion costume during a trip to Old Navy a couple of months ago:

Little Lion



And I, I opted for the cop-out of diving into my dance gear for a costume. 


I love that I have several feet worth of hair, fake eyelashes, and flamenco roses at my daily disposal around the house. 

Note to self: Authentic flameco shoes are not designed for walking miles and miles while trick-or-treating with the kids.


The night ended with an intense round of commodity trading. 

















.




Also, there were the customary parental fees and losses.

Especially Tootsie Rolls and Laffy Taffy which I convinced the children would cure my aching feet. 


(Okay, they weren't wholly convinced.)
(But I actually did feel better after eating a pound of Tootsie Rolls & Laffy Taffy.) 
(Try it.)



Monday, October 26, 2009

Do You Hear What I Hear?


The angels are singing!

The Amber Alert I issued on my camera has led to her safe return!

(Just stand up and happy dance with me for a moment...)

She is currently in the hands of the authorities (um... coordinators of my last dance competition...) and will be returned safely home in no time.

There are no suspects in the case, but she is completely unharmed in every way.  In fact, the authorities found her, "Jane Doe Camera", wandering the hotel ballroom alone and confused and unable to communicate.  It was almost AS IF she had been left sitting there wallowing on the ballroom table all along...

Hmmm...

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Three Is A Magic Number!



Yes it IS!
It's a magic number!


Isaac
my baby
"The Caboose"

turned three today.


He will board a bus headed for preschool for the first time this Tuesday.
Wearing a miniature "Lightning McQueen" backpack.

He actually has refused to take the backpack off since I purchased it last week, so I guess I won't have to work too hard at getting him ready for school.

One of the magical (and I dare say, charming) things about 3-year-olds
is that the concept of ownership
(aka "MINE!")
becomes understood.

So...
because it is indeed charming
and also downright entertaining

I bought one of those cute Little Tykes shopping carts for Isaac for his birthday.

Now he is circling the house with all his other gifts and worldly posessions loaded up in the shopping cart like a homeless baglady.
While wearing his miniature Lightning McQueen backpack.

He has been doing this for hours.
He is happy as can be.

If you even look his way he walks around to the front of the shopping cart - blocking it from view and he warns "No Touching!"

And we listen.

Because "No Touching" = "I am happy and  P.S. This is Mine...  Breach the perimeter of mine-ness, and I will turn from darling dimpled birthday boy into The Incredible Hulk on Catnip
and unleash on you my ultimate wrath."

I will miss this age.


"Bag Lady Baby"

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy!


Friday, October 09, 2009

My Theme For The Week:







"The greater danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it."


-Michelangelo

Thursday, October 08, 2009

The Cat Chronicles

This is a story about Anti-Pet Family #1


(Or so we used to be called.)
(By our own selves, that's by who.)

The only reason we don't use that term anymore, is because we actually have a pet.


Introducing:
 Pumpkin
A cat.  Who lives with us.  On purpose.

It is absolutely ridiculous that we have a cat,
and,
as I peel her off from around the top of my head
(where she frequently - and mistakenly - thinks she belongs)
I will tell you WHY:


It is ridicuous that we have a cat because we are the self-declared anti-pet family #1.
That's why.


Now I'll tell you HOW we came to have a cat - a much better story.
HOW Anti-pet Family #1 became the owners of a cat - I'll break it down into 2 parts:



Chapter 1: The only reason we have a cat is because someone gave us a fish.



On Sundays, the youngest of our children attend a nursery meeting at church, while we adults attend Sunday school classes.

Cute lessons are taught in the nursery about love, gratitude, and other niceties...

One particular unsuspecting Sunday, the cute lesson of "I am grateful for water" was taught.
As a token of water gratitude learnedness:  The even cuter idea of giving each teensy child a little water-filled baggie with a living breathing goldfish swimming around inside was executed.

(This had to sound like the cutest idea in the world to someone - but wait,
let me ask you - Is a goldfish not a pet?)

(Cough! Hack!)

  Exactly.

So, little Christiana -18 months old at the time- walked out of class with a big smile, and an even bigger surprise - As in:

SURPRISE! YOU ARE NOW PET OWNERS!


Say wha??

Who amongst you could look into the eyes of an eighteen month old angel who is proudly holding up (with both chubby little hands) the most wonderful thing she has clearly ever seen - and break her little heart?
Not I.

How much trouble could one little goldfish be?

Well, I'll tell you:


One $40 goldfish home
$10 worth of goldfish home decor complete with muti-colored rocks and a sunken pirate ship.
1 Bubbling goldfish oxygenating contraption
and goldfish food.


Oh, and did I mention (not more than 24 hours later) :  1 dead goldfish.

That's right.
Muerto.

THAT is how much trouble one little goldfish can be.

And THEN, 
I, the new pet mom,
engaged in the covert operation of quickly capturing the floating fish corpse with the little green net to make an emergency 9:58 PM run to Petsmart for goldfish twin #1.

And THEN,
not a week later,
it was time for ANOTHER stealth run to Petsmart for "Slicky" twin #2 (because now the goldfish had a name, but was just as departed).

When the time came (and it came soon), we decided to leave our dearly departed Slicky twin #2 (goldfish #3) publicly floating, because 3 fish in one week was flat out pathetic, and it was time we came to terms with that. 

And also because I was afraid of getting reported to PETA.

Chapter 2: The only reason we have a cat is because she is not a fish.

Nobody can hold a fish. Nobody can snuggle with a fish.

The fish has no way of letting you know that it is actually appreciating your company - so I was absolutely dumbfounded at how quickly all of my children declared their love for this creature.

It is unfortunate, but apparently "pet" has a designated area in the young child heart, and once it is filled it can never be left empty again. Three children with empty pet hearts was too much for even Anti-Pet Family #1 to bear.


Enter: The internet.
Enter: This picture:

Yes. 
Cute.

Exit: A boatload of cash.
Enter: The cat into our home.

Because cats are hardier than goldfish.

The End.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Land of the Lost

Drats!  
I must officially issue a missing persons report on my camera. 
Because there are not missing cameras reports.
And my camera is missing.  (Did I mention that?)
And because my camera is one of my loved ones.

She (my camera who is now a "she") has been missing sometime between 72 hours and 2 1/2 weeks.

Sometimes I don't keep close enough touch with my loved ones.
Ask anybody.
They will tell you.
Repeatedly.
And over and over again.
Because it might be true.

Oh yeah, back to my camera...

She is missing, so I am sad.
And pictureless.


Also dwelling in Land of the Lost:
1.  My natural haircolor.
2.  The toothfairy.  (She has forgotten to come for my daughter's tooth 2 nights in a row now.  Slacker.)
3.  My only housekey.  (Thank goodness for garage entry.)
4.  The "loser" who ate Joey's leftover fish taco.  (Tee Hee.) 

*(In the "loser's" defense, I am sure that person was really famished from working out at the gym for an hour and a half and was too tired to even make cereal and had sore feet.) 

(I'm just saying...)

Friday, October 02, 2009

Goodbye, Galaxy.


Hello, Friend.

I'm back!
I have been crazy busy gluing my world back together after taking a weekend off a couple of weeks ago...  We'll start there...  Prepare for some rambling.

"No fake eyelashes and glitter in our world."
My sister in law reminded me as I began my descent back into reality.
(From my weekend at the Galaxy Dance Competition!)


A crying shame if you ask me...
(Especially the eyelashes
which I had become quite attached to over the course of a rather glammed-up 72 hours.)

I admit, returning from the world of glitz, glamour, ballgowns and rhinestones is an adjustment. 
One moment I get to play the role of bedazzled dancing queen
(In my own mind, that's where.)
(I am quite imaginative.)
the next moment -  I am back to over-tired, over-scheduled mother and wife.
(No imagination required.)
(Cheesecake optional.)

I spent the weekend at the Biltmore.
I came home to the aftermath of WWIII.

While I was away, other people combed, sprayed, and rhinestoned my hair and did my make-up all weekend.
When I got back, I spent a week working the rats nest out of one of my daughter's uncombed heads.

The Biltmore had beautiful grounds filled with shiny happy people.
Back at my house, I could not locate the laundry room because of the tragic clothing avalanche.
And...
The refrigerator had been emptied.  That was too bad because I hadn't eaten in days.
And...
Empty toilet paper rolls adorned every restroom.
(Did I mention at the Biltmore my toilet paper roll magically replenished itself daily with no effort on my part?)

Nevertheless, I am glad to be home.
(That is the politically correct thing to say.)
(The truth = I WILL be glad to be home - once home resembles home again.)
(I will even be glad when it resembles my actual real home and not the souped up, peaceful, spotless, heavenly version I dreamed it to be during my uninterrupted sleep at the hotel.)

P.S.  It would not be very nice of me to overlook what good sports my family were to tolerate my leave of absence.  When I returned home the house was still standing and the children were all alive. 
Minimum requirements satisfied.




Curious about how things went? 
Peek at the RESULTS. 
(You'll have to scroll down to Montoya.)