The Post I Should've Written Yesterday

Allright. This was the post I was supposed to put up last night. But then the fish fiasco happened, and it took precedence over everything else. I do feel the need to clarify that I did not let Mr. Nibbles go down the garbage disposal just so I could have something to write about. (That was just a side benefit). I let him go down because I could not bring myself to pick up his slippery wet disgusting thin little body and feel it flopping against my hands. I'm telling you, even if I tried I would have panicked and dropped him, thus leaving Princess G to witness the slow death of her beloved Mr. Nibbles right there on our kitchen floor. So really, death by drain was the more humane choice, peeps. Do not judge me (even though I totally deserve it).

Back to business.

What I was going to write about last night was our trip to Disneyland this last Saturday. We had a blast. It was J's first time, and he loved it. Though you would never know this by looking at the pictures. What's up with his expression here?

And here?

And here as well?

By the way, Mr. C hates it when I put up pics that are not high quality. Apparently, it goes against his professional ethics. However, these grainy pics from his iPhone will have to suffice since we (smartly) chose not to drag around his multi-thousand dollar "my lens is bigger than your lens" camera.

Anyway, while the rest of the family may look back at these pictures in a few years and mistakenly think that we had to drag J around the park against his will, I myself will always have this one particular memory of his first trip to Disneyland: You know those trash cans that have the circle cut out to throw bottles and cups through? Yeah? Well I turned around in line for Nemo to find my son pressing his cheeks and mouth into said circle. For all I know he was running his tongue left, right, and around the inside of it. So I guess it goes without saying that I'm raising that kid. We all knew one when we were younger. At Roosevelt Elementary it was the little boy who drank out of a 3 day old rain puddle on a dare. I'm feeling compelled to look him up and see how he's faring today so that I can at least have a glimpse at what's in the cards for J.

Hope you all have a great day!

Dear Mr. Nibbles

Dear Mr. Nibbles,

Well, it appears I owe you an apology. I can not express enough my heartfelt regret at the unfortunate events that unfolded tonight during the cleaning of your bowl. I assure you, I never, ever, in a million years would send you down the garbage disposal on purpose. In fact, I've told you before and I'll tell you again Mr. Nibbles, you are hands down my most favorite pet that resides in this household. You don't smell, your food is cheap, and you make my Princess G oh- so-happy just by being your swimmingly wonderful silent self.

It's just that, maybe next time I'm trying to pour you into another container so that I can do the one task of maintenance you require of me (to clean your bowl), you could oblige me by following the water. Cause you see, when you insist on staying in the bowl even after all the water has drained from it, it kind of freaks me out. I can't handle your frantic flopping, and that interferes with my ability to think clearly which is why I tend to do stupid things like turn your bowl upside down and try to shake you into the smaller container (while closing my eyes and squealing "ohmigodohmigodohmigod" over and over). So that's how you ended up in the drain stopper.

I'm so sorry. I know I was showing signs of foreward thinking by putting the drain stopper in before cleaning your bowl, so you may be wondering how it was that you still ended up in the garbage disposal.

Wellllllllllllllllllllllll.

The truth is, with all the water and the flopping and the ohmigods, things got a little crazy and I'm not sure how it happened, but the drain catcher turned a little sideways. Don't worry! You still landed in it, but Lord forgive me, I have to be honest here: Even as you were laying there sideways looking up patiently at me, even as I was yelling "oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh sh*t!, which caused Princess G to come in, immediately guess what was going on, and burst into tears while lamenting your name repeatedly, even as all this was happening, I thought to myself, "I can't touch his slippery soft skin. I can't handle him flopping against my skin. I'll die. I know I will."

And that is when I did the most humane thing I thought I could do at that point. I turned on the water to wash you down the disposal.

Oh, God. Mr. Nibbles, I am so so sorry. I know it was fate that brought Mr. C home at that exact minute. I know that it was fate that made him brave enough to stick his hand down the garbage disposal and (literally) fish you out, thus making him a hero in his little girl's eyes. I know that because of this, you probably like him better than me now. I'm okay with that. I accept it.

I just hope that in the future we can work through our trust issues and once again be pals. Because I really do like you, Mr. Nibbles. I really do.

Regretfully Yours,

Meanie Mom

For You Bookworms

When I run into other people who love books the way I do, it's like finding a literary soul mate. A while back, I went to an acquaintance's home for the first time and almost cried when I stepped into her living room. It was as if I had come home to the Mothership. Let me describe her living room to you and if you're "one of us", you'll know exactly what I'm talking about: First thing I noticed was this big, beautiful, fireplace with two huge cushy leather reading chairs pulled in front. This was around Halloween, so she had an assortment of green and white gourds arranged in the grate. Very cool. Then there were tons of old photographs of family members and ancestors lines up on the mantle in honor of Day of the Dead. Even cooler. Beside the chairs was a set of glass french doors, which led out to a candle-lit courtyard. The room itself was lit with small-ish reading lamps set on trunks (that were being utilized as various-sized tables). And best of all, the sage green walls were lined with shelves and shelves and shelves of nothing but books. Books, books, everywhere. Sometimes there was an arsty little doo-dad of some sort or another to break up the continuity of the shelves, but mostly there were books. And there was a cool cd playing too, if I remember right. Pink Martini? It totally set the mood.

What I'd give for a cool little room like that! If she rented it out by the hour to readers like me, I would've gladly forked over an undisclosed amount of cash to just curl up in one of those chairs and forget about the world around me. And if you're a crazy bookworm like me, you would've too.

But I digress.

My point is, I'm a reader. And I think tonight I'd like to share with you something very personal, very special, very dear to my heart. It's my top 10 list of fav books. Take this, my friends, and treat it lovingly. Know that this is a high honor I am bestowing on you tonight.

(Can you tell that my love of reading also gives me a flair for the dramatic? I'm like the Ethel Merman of the Library of Congress)

Anyway. Here they are, in no particular order:

10. Memoirs of a Geisha, by Arthur Golden- Read it in college, wrote a paper on it, and probably could've written another 5. Was completely drawn into it's exotic theme and loved learning and thinking about women's place in WWII era Japan.

9. Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier- Just plain old romantic and spooky. Love the movie too.

8. Operating Instrutions: A Journal of My Son's First Year, by Anne Lamott- I read this long before I even had kids and it touched me. It started my love for anything written by Anne Lamott. She's so honest and funny that it kills me. I have fantasies of us being BFF's and going out for a drink and talking and laughing and being oh so witty. (A fantasy that's ruined when I remember that she writes candidly about being a recovering alcoholic. So I guess there goes that. I still love her, though.)

7. Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott- Let me keep extolling the wonderfulness that is Anne Lamott. Here's a quote from her book: "You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when He hates all the same people you do."

Never mind. There's no one quote. Just go read her and find out for yourself.

6. The Betsy-Tacy Series by Maud Hart Lovelace- The day I saw these books sitting on the shelf in the Buena Vista Library's Childrens Reading Room is a day seared into my memory. I can tell you how it smelled in there, what the weather was like outside, and what I had eaten for lunch prior. Someone actually wrote a character with my weird oddball name into not just one book, but EIGHT books! That alone was enough for me to love them, but it turns out they're charming and sweet too.

5. The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger- Such a good read, but too complicated to explain. Just trust me and read it. It's good.

4. Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak- Because when I read the opening lines "The night that Max made mischief of one kind and another..." I get goosebumps. Everytime.

3. The Paper Bag Princess, by Robert Munsch- I want Princess G to have a fairy tale book in her collection where a Princess calls out a Prince on his bad behavior. This is that book.

2. Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume- It's a classic. "We must! We must! We must increase our bust!" Not that I ever actually tried that. Uh, ya. Right.

1. The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant. It's a bible story, told from a minor woman character's perspective. Cool enough at that. But then, there's also that the story is so powerful and moving that I almost cry every time I finish it. My alltime fav.

So there it is. Man, this is a long post. Sorry bout that. Someday when I redo the look of my blog, I'm going to put a "What I'm Reading Now" widget in my sidebar. Then maybe I'll do a weekly something or other on my current book. I don't know. I just know that I love this blog, and I love books, and if I found a way to combine the two then all would be right in the cosmos.

You all have a good night!

Over the River and Through the Woods

Allright, there was no proverbial river, and we didn't so much travel through "woods" as we travelled through "sporadically populated tree space".... but for Valentine's Day, we did pile the fam into the mini van and drive about 1hour and a half to my parents' cabin. Lots of snow, lots of fun, and lots of cold, wet, toes at the end of the day.

I'll let the pictures tell the story:

Hope you all sleep like babies tonight! Good night!

Me and Mr. C

That picture of me and Mr. C was taken when I was 6-8 weeks pregnant with Baby Roo. No one else knew about the pregnancy, except for a few select group of people. This pic is one of my favs because when I look at it, I can see evidence of our happy little secret in the way we're smiling into the camera. I'm also reminded of how years before this picture was taken, before we had kids, before we were even married, I almost passed up on Mr. C because he "wasn't my type."

It's true. I'd take him to parties and friends would always corner me and ask "So who's that guy you brought?" And I'd answer, "Oh, him? He's a teacher too. We're just hanging out for the summer while we have time off. He's not really my type."

I don't think the 27 year old me knew what my "type" even was. I knew I wanted a tall guy, and Mr. C certainly fit the bill there. But I think I was looking for someone a little less..... dorky? I myself, was too dumb to know that I was a dork myself, and so I was looking for someone a little more suave, mysterious, and/or debonair. Mr. C proved to me that he was no where close to being any of those things when on our 3rd date, he stuck a plastic bag on his head and proceeded to wear it like a hat in the middle of the grocery store produce section. (I'm sorry, Mr. C, but you did. Just own it. No one here is judging.)

Thank goodness for long summer vacations, because I learned a few things about Mr. C in those few weeks that changed my mind. For instance, he's the kind of guy who, before going anywhere that may be remotely interesting, grabs his camera bag before anything else:

Turns out that he's also an excellent companion at any art museum because he knows all this interesting history and trivia about the exhibits. He's teaching our kids these things too:

I also learned that he's an excellent teacher. He doesn't teach art, he teaches creativity and what he can pull from his students is amazing. His students like and respect him (at least the smart ones do.)

While we were road tripping that summer, I learned how he loves the outdoors. He says it's his religion. He showed me that off-roading in the rain can be fun (and kind of romantic):

In fact, he loves the outdoors so much that he spends all school year dreaming up the next big summer camping trip with our kids:

And perhaps, most fun for me, I learned that he loves live music. Whether we're in the dive karoke bar up the street, or at Coachella Fest, we are ALWAYS having more fun than anyone else. Guaranteed.

By the end of that summer, I had learned my lesson. Mr. C was the coolest dork I knew, and I wanted to be one too. With him.

So Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. C. I heart you forever, you big dork.

A Valentine Ode to That Perfectly Perfect Mommy at my Son's Preschool

Well, this is a little bit of a mean post, but I'm going to let it all hang out tonight. Welcome to my dark side, folks. I dedicate this to all those Martha Stewart loving type A perfect mommies out there who would never be able to handle one day of me and my slovenly ways. Here's to you:
(and my apologies for the sloppy rhymes)


I am Perfect
Perfect I am

That Ms. Perfectly Perfect!
That Ms. Perfectly Perfect!
I do not like that Ms. Perfectly Perfect!

I do not like her perfect hair.
At 9 a.m! Perfect hair!
I do not like her organic snacks.
I don't like her kid's Eddie Bauer backpack.

I do not like her organized ways
I do not like her checking out my grays
(Not all of us has the luck
To update our 'do's for hundreds of bucks!)

I would not like her in my house
For I'm sure she'd judge me as a louse
Just because my white floors aren't clean,
Honey, your housekeeper is my sweet dream.

I would not like her at a park
With me in sweats that're my trademark.
Squirtin' her kids up with hand sanitizer,
While my kids remain none the wiser.

I do not like her here or there,
I do not like her anywhere.
I do not like Ms. Perfectly Per-fect
A glance from her and I feel nit-picked.

The End

Horrible ending, but "perfect" doesn't have a lot of rhymes. You'll have to cut me some slack.

Anyway, in case that didn't make you sad enough, I wasted more time by coming up with a limerick:

There once was a mom at J's school
Who made Meanie Mom feel like a tool
With her perfectly coiffed hair
Meanie Mom didn't have a prayer
Standing there covered in Roo's drool.

And finally, I leave you with this Haiku:

She brings homemade cards
Wove from specialty paper.
5 o'clock is far away.

Okay all. I'm going to go work on my self-esteem issues.

You all have a great night!

I Came for the Food, I Stayed for the Food

So... another Superbowl Sunday come and gone. Not such a big deal around this household. We're baseball people. Mr. C is an ex skate boarder, so when the X Games are in town you'll see some excitement. But the Superbowl.... eh. We're in it for the food really. I mean we're really in it for the food. As I'm typing this (with the top button on my pants undone), I'm starting to feel the shame that follows a good old fashioned pig out. The sundresses and skinny jeans I have in my closet will hang there and mock me for weeks to come. However, this Superbowl turned out to be kind of fun- a nice (relatively) quiet day with the family. I have the break down for you right here:
(Hey! Break down? I'm not sure but did I just use a sports term just now? Wow.)

PreGame- Turn on the T.V. so that I can find out who's playing this year. I decide to root for The Saints, mainly because although I've never been there, New Orleans sounds way more fun than Indianapolis. My logic is this: New Orleans=fun=more deserving of winning than the team from the not-fun place.
- Put out chips, guacamole, and party mix for the kids consisting of honey nut cheerios, pretzels, marshmallows, and mini- chocolate chips. YAY family fun!
-Print out Super Bowl Commerical Bingo cards for 9, me, and Mr. C. Briefly debate over whether "Big Boobs" spot on the card is too inappropriate for the 13 year old. Decide it's nothing he prob wouldn't notice anyway. We go with it.

Kick Off- Am mildly disappointed to find that the Colts' uniforms are blue (my favorite color) and that the Saints are fitted in yucky gold and black. I toy with the idea of changing alliances, but decide to be a tough girl and stick with my original choice.
- I put out the potato skins and all the toppings for the "make it yourself" potato skin bar. Wonder why in the world I bought so much food and not invite anyone else over. Seriously, what was I thinking?
- Give the children their big surprise "treat": Gatorade. They go beserk with happiness.

First Quarter- Congratulate myself on how good the guacamole turned out.
- Banish the small children to their rooms to live out the rest of the sugar rush after finding J on top of Princess G and shoving marshmallows into her mouth while she laughed Gatorade out of her nose.
- Mark off the car commercial, dot com commercial, person falling over, and fast food commercial from of my bingo card.
- Give up on my team since they're already loosing, and really, what's the chance of a comeback at this point in the game?

Second Quarter- Put out the hot wings with celery and bleu cheese.
- Continue to remark out loud how good the guacamole is.
-Laugh at this commercial.
- Get back on board with my team, since they scored and are clearly destined for victory.
- Mark off cell phone and E-Trade commercials off my card. All I need is a potato chip commercial. Why are they only advertising Dorito Corn Chips?

Half Time- Watch The Who and silently wonder which other bands might've been better. About a million come to mind.
-Continue waiting for my potato chip commercial.
-Put out some Vegetarian Chili and Fritos.

Third Quarter- Lay on the couch motionless and think about how happy I am that we didn't invite anyone over, as I am knee deep in a warm and fuzzy food coma and would currently make a horrible hostess.
-The Colts score, and I start worrying about my team again.

Fourth Quarter- Where or where is my dang potato chip commercial? It's all I need for Bingo.
-Continue eating the guacamole, even though my brain is telling me it's way past time to stop.
-9 gets Bingo with the Monkey spot. We argue briefly over whether it counts or not since it was a Kia Sock Monkey and not the real deal. In the end we give it to him.
-I come to terms with the fact that this is not the year for potato chip commercials.
-My Saints win! I always knew they could do it!

That's my Superbowl afternoon. Small, silly, and chock full of food. I'm so stuffed that I'm going to go roll myself off to bed. Before I do though, I thought I'd pass along my guacamole recipe in case any of you are interested. I don't measure anything. Just eyeball it and do taste tests to improve. It's yummy.

2 avocadoes
1-2 slices of lemon (to squeeze for the juice)
sour cream
1 clove of garlic, chopped
paprika
salt
pepper
Tapatio
onion powder

Mix it all up and mash. When finished mashing, put the avo seed back in. This keeps the guacamole from getting brown. (Did you know that? My next door neighbor taught me that trick and I was surprised to find out that it really works)

Well, that's it. I hope you all had a fun Superbowl Sunday. May your pants all fit in the morning! (I already know mine won't).
Good night!

The Boy Ain't Right (but we love him that way)

Hello? You all still there? All 11 of you? It feels like forever since I've written a post. I've waited all week for sum'pin good to write, yet nothing has come to mind. I almost wrote an entire post about how much I hate (HATE!) my white tile floor, but decided that that post should wait till a really PMSy day. That way I can legitimately blow off some steam that otherwise may be misdirected onto my family.

I bet you all can't wait.

Anyway, alls I got for you is a long and kinda boring video and a cute story bout my son, J.

Mr. C and I have been saying to each other for some time now that there is something not right about him. Maybe a processing disorder? Or ADD? Perhaps he has a spot somewhere on the Autism Spectrum? Don't get me wrong- we adore him. Mr. C pointed out to me that we probably love him harder than we love the others. That's cuz we have to. 9 has always been mellow, Princess G is a people pleaser, and Baby Roo is well, the baby. But J? He'll exhaust my reservoir of patience by 9 a.m. He loves drama and will do anything to create it. It's exhausting and there are many days when I think I need the help of the Supernanny. Then, there are worse days when I'm sure that not even the Supernanny would know what to do with him. Those are the days you'll find me at 9 p.m. on the couch, self medicating with a bag of Kettle Chips and a glass of Chardonnay.

(Not really. The truth is that 9 p.m. on most nights you'll find me on the couch with Kettle Chips and wine anyway. It's just that some days, I start yearning for it earlier than others.)

As I was saying, J is a handful. But one thing I've noticed about my boy is that he has got an imagination. Sometimes it astounds me. Most of the time, he is knee-deep in his magical world and I am only a visitor there. I think most of our problems come from the fact that I require him to pull out of that world and do mundane things like, I don't know... brush his teeth? Use the toilet? It's an on-going battle that I often loose.

Yesterday morning he arrived at our breakfast bar with his favorite stuffed dog, "Mateo Ruffy" in tow. I told him he couldn't have Mateo up at the counter cuz he'd get sticky from the pancake syrup. He asked if Mateo could then at least eat at the dining table, to which I replied "Sure." So we got Mateo situated and then naturally, he had to have something to eat. So I, playing along, placed an apple from the fruit bowl under his chin. This particular apple was designated for smoothie status, since Baby Roo had bitten a giant chunk out of it at the grocery store, a fact that I hid from the kids. If they'd known, the apple and said smoothie would've been pronounced as having "baby cooties" and would've been doomed to rot away, uneaten.

Anyway, when J was done eating (and I had fought the battle to clean his hands before he ran all over the house rubbing his sticky hands on everything in sight), I jokingly pointed out that "Oh look! Mateo took a big bite of apple!"

Now Princess G's mouth dropped open. She was dumbfounded. Even Roo looked a little suspicious. But J? He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah. Only one bite. Guess he wasn't hungry mama."
Because stuffed dogs take huge bites out of apples every day in his world. No biggie.

So, with that in mind, I tried to capture a little bit of his imagination on the Flip for you guys to see. It's a very long video, and truthfully, you can probably get the gist of it in 30 seconds or so. I just couldn't find a good point to edit. Okay, truthfully I'm just feeling lazy tonight. You'll hear me nagging Princess G to get ready for school in this and once again, I can't turn the dang Flip off- which really has more to do with the fact that I think the buttons get stuck than with my technological skills. Also, J makes a few comments that sound a little disturbingly violent about relatives dying. Don't worry, I already talked to my therapist mother about this. He has stuff like that floating around in his head because of the last few weeks. He's just acting out his confusion through play, which is why you hear me just kinda roll with it.

Anyway, here's my crazy kid. He does have the attention span of a gnat, which you'll see here:

Untitled from Tacy Cauthron on Vimeo.

See? He's a nut. But, like I said, we love him that way.

You all have a good night!