Have You Seen This Tooth?

Princess G lost another tooth today. It happened while she was eating her Honey Nut Cheerios, which is quite a coincidence because that's exactly what she was eating when she lost her first one. I can only conclude that the Tooth Fairy holds stock with General Mills.

So, the sequence of events today went like this: PG lost a tooth, I promptly put it in a plastic baggie and spent the rest of the day Spring Cleaning my kitchen. (Don't get too impressed. "Spring Cleaning" this year means I start a task, I make a mess, I get overwhelmed, and then I retreat to Facebook for the next 1-2 hours until I'm ready to peek back out at what I started. The process is repeated thru all hours of daylight until it's time to retreat to my sofa, and self medicate with-say it with me, my friends, kettle chips and wine.)

Anyway, come bedtime PG mentions that she's going to need to put the tooth under her pillow. I think to myself, "Oh, yes! Now where did I put that baggie?" I look around my tornado of a kitchen to no avail. I did have 2 happy moments when I found random plastic baggies which I hoped contained the tooth, but instead one held hair snips from Roo's first haircut, and the other held the dried up umbilical cord from one of my babies. I know- who keeps hair and dead uterine skin in their kitchen cabinets? I have no explanation for this, only a deep shame.

So basically, Princess G went to bed tonight without her newly lost tooth under her pillow. The only one happy about this was J, because now he doesn't have to fear the Tooth Fairy. But just in case she needs proof that a tooth was in fact, lost in this household today, here's a short (YAY!) video to prove it.

So, there you have it. Proof that a tooth was lost, although that's probably the last that anyone will see it.

Also, I'm once again astounded by how annoying I am on camera. Ugh. I do feel a little redeemed by the fact that I have cute kids. Until they start screeching. Or making comments about wanting to see blood. But what's to expect from children whose mother keeps dead umbilical cord remnants in the kitchen?

You all have a good night.

Judge Not, Lest You End Up Making Mayberry References

Someone said something to me recently that I'm kind of split on. They said, "You don't truly know how stressful being a parent is until you've had more than 1 kid."

Huh.

I've thought a lot about this. Part of me wants to stand up and say, "Now, hold on here! Let's be fair about this! Parenting is a hard job, no matter how many kids you have!"

(For some reason, I totally imagine myself saying that like Sheriff Andy from "The Andy Griffith Show". You know, with a southern accent and a peace keeping attitude?)

Don't ask.

The other part of me wants to stand up and yell "HA! IN YOUR FACE, PARENTS OF ONE! YOU THINK THIS IS HARD? YOU'VE GOT IT EASY! ONE IS A CAKEWALK COMPARED TO THE CIRCUS I RUN!" (And this, my friends, I imagine myself shouting like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men)

Again, don't ask. Maybe I just have a thing tonight for men in uniforms.

Anyway, this thought wouldn't be worth pondering for me, except for the fact that lately when I've been talking to some mommy friends of singles, I've become aware of this feeling that creeps up on me. It's small, it's quiet, I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was exactly....... and THEN I began to see the light. I was feeling judged. And it bugged me. Until I remembered that I was exactly the same way.

When I had just Princess G, we had a lot of time. I had a lot of patience. And yes, it was hard getting used to being a parent and not having my life and thoughts to myself anymore. But I managed the way everyone else does. And because I loved this new little creature so much, I threw myself into being the best parent there ever was. I taught her baby signs. I talked to her all day, every day because the books told me that was the best way to develop her language skills. We rarely watched T.V., and if we did, it was educational. Not a crumb of processed food touched her lips for entire first year. I breastfed, I nurtured, I played. I was patient, I was loving, I was involved.

I was obnoxious.

I also thought mean, bad thoughts about moms who complained about their kids, how tired they were, how they were having issues with this or that. I secretly thought "Well, they're doing something wrong." I actually thought I was just gifted as a parent.

Oh, I was bad. And now I'm reaping the rewards of Karma.

2 kids and 3 1/2 years later, I can't remember any details of anything that was discussed more than 5 minutes prior to the current conversation I'm having. I can rarely spit out a complete thought, because there's either a child there to interrupt me, OR, more embarrassingly, every thought I have triggers another thought, and before I know it, I've birdwalked so far from my main point that I have no idea what I started to say in the first place.

I kinda did it there, just now.

You will rarely see my hair in anything other than a ponytail and I don't care if my bra strap shows. I'm just happy to have gotten 3 children out of the house with their shoes on the right feet.

My kids don't always eat their full servings of veggies and fruits because I've learned to pick my battles.

I love the television. I use it first thing in the morning while I have my coffee. I use it during rest time so that I can catch a break. And I use it in the evening so that they leave me alone while I cook dinner. It's a lovely invention and I feel so, so, SO much pity for mothers who had to rear children without it.

And finally, I yell. I yell because sometimes I need to feel heard amongst all the craziness. Sometimes I need to let the kids know I mean business. And sometimes I just need to, period. Ineffective? Yes. I'm open to a few lessons from the Supernanny. But until then, I'll yell.

So, to go back to the original statement from my friend: Can you really understand the full stress of being a parent if you only have one kid?

My answer is no. No, you can't. But it's best not to dwell on it, lest karma kick you in your unsuspecting butt. Karma's always looking to teach a lesson to those of us who judge. And I've learned my lesson. So it looks like I'm back to my Sheriff Andy voice when I say, "Can't we all just get along?"

Or my Rodney King voice.

Whatever.

You all have a good night.

The Wonder Years

Our kids are not normal.

I know this because how can it be normal for 3 children, ages 1,3, & 6 to walk around ALL day at Disney California Adventure Park in the blazing sun and do all kinds of fun stuff like this:

And this:

And this:

....go to bed at midnight and still be up at 7 a.m. the next morning????

I'm saying, it's not normal.

(This is excepting the teenager, who would sleep until 2 in the afternoon everyday of the week if we let him).

Yet, our kids were up at 7 a.m..

And they were wanting things.

Like breakfast.

And television.

And then Princess G tells me that there's poop smeared all over the toilet seat.

No coffee is made.

Baby Roo is sticking her fingers in my eye sockets and cooing "eeeeeeeeeyes."

J smells alarmingly like a toilet.

Mr. C and I ignore them for as long as we can (no, not even the poo smell could light a fire under our butts.), but eventually we have to drag ourselves out of bed and start being parents.

It's later, when they've been fed, we've been coffeed, I've cleaned one bathroom, and we're stripping down Roo because she's spilled milk all over herself, that Mr. C makes a sarcastic comment about how these are The Wonder Years.

Then he takes off her diaper and a surprise turd falls out onto the floor.

That's when I'm reminded why the cosmos partnered us up, because he looked right at me and dryly said, "More like the wtf years."

You hit the nail on the head honey. Nail. On. The. Head.

Time Warp Two

Okay, I'm back. This time Mr. C and I are watching "The Witches of Eastwick" on the TV Guide Channel. Someday I'll get back to devoting all of my focus on my posts, cause in these last few weeks it's been pretty evident that my brain is not capable of multi-tasking my writing with the 40 inch screen in front of me. It's just that lately, 9's computer has been dwelling in the Geek Squad dungeon and it's easier for me to use Mr. C's laptop than to peel him away from his Happy Aquarium on Facebook.

Anyway.

To continue my Retroland nostalgia kick, tonight I'd like to list 5 more toys. I confess, they're a little on the obvious side, but you can't talk about 80's toys without mentioning the following:

1. Cabbage Patch Kids.

To be honest, I have no memory of the crawling doll on the left (but there is a vague recollection of CPK Preemie Dolls), and the linebacker doll on the right rings no bells.... BUT that sweet little thing in the middle is an almost exact replica of my Melinda Sue. I loved her and her yarn hair so. She now sits up on a shelf in my old closet at my parents' house, her naked little Xavier Roberts' tattoo out and exposed for all the world to see. Maybe I should do something about that.

2. Care Bears.

If only the Care Bear Stare worked in real life, my job as a parent would be so much easier.

3. Game of Life.

I loved this game. Until I played it with one of my ex boyfriends and he stuck the little pink wife peg in the back seat. So I learned all about Real Life and man jerks, all from this game.

I'm totally kidding. That ex boyfriend actually made me laugh with his sense of humor. And this game is nothing like Real Life. Despite that, I can still say that there's nothing I don't like about Life. I love the little cars, the $10,000 you get just for starting out, and that little rainbow bridge. So fun.

4. My Friend Mandy

I clearly remember getting this doll for my 3rd birthday. I can sing you the commercial. My Friend Mandy was my favorite doll throughout my childhood but today she's up on that shelf right next to Melinda Sue. Poor Mandy.

5. Dolly Pops

Click. Click. Click. I think these little dolls are to blame for my Bejewled Blitz addiction. And besides that, their name just sounds yummy. Dolly Pops.

Yum.

Allright. That's it with the Retroland Blog. Although, the next time I can't think of a thing to write, I may revisit it and write up a list of 80's TV shows. Or theme songs. That'd be fun. But for now, we're at the vomitting cherry pit part of Witches of Eastwick. This part is the reason why Mr. C hates it when I leave cherry pits lying around in a bowl or napkin during cherry season. So I'm going to try to derive some pleasure from observing him while he's watching his number one movie gross out moment.

Yes, it's an exciting life that I lead.

You all have a good night.

Let's Do The Time Warp

Yesterday morning Princess G was doodling T-Shirt designs on a piece of scratch paper. She's been doing this since she watched the Oscars last week- drawing outfits on scrap paper. She's our creative one, for sure. Mr. C was encouraging her along, giving her "graphics" advice and I, perhaps, was feeling a tiny bit left out. I mean, come on, Red Carpet designs? Isn't this a mother's territory? So, I felt inclined to pipe in with "When I was a girl I had this toy called Fashion Plates." Then I proceeded to try to describe it using my old, mushy memory. But when I heard myself describe the plate parts as "kinda like graham crackers" (you know, because they broke into thirds and you could mix and match the maroon leather boots with the 80's styling cowl neck sweater dress), I realized that I needed a visual aid.

And that's when I found this gold mine: http://www.retroland.com/retroblog/

Princess G and her creative designs were left in the dust as Mr. C and I got completely sucked into the 70's/80's time warp that is Retroland. If you are ever feeling nostalgic, I suggest you go there. It's good for the soul. (Or maybe it was because Big Mama reminded me that I was ready for it ever since I saw the tribute to John Hughes on Oscar Night.)

In any case, tonight I thought I'd take a little walk down memory lane and reminisce about some of my favorite 80's toys. Grab your velcro high tops and come along.

1. I have to start with the Fashion Plates, for obvious reasons.

Yep, there's my "graham crackers". Just like I remember them.

2. I know this is still around, but Princess G has the Dora The Explorer version of Candyland, and it's not the same. I love looking at the old school version. And I KNOW I'm not the only kid who actually licked the game board to see if the pictures tasted as good as they looked.

Am I?

3. Okay, the picture on this one does not do it justice. What I need here is a certain polaroid I have in mind. It's of my sisters geared up in the Get In Shape Girl legwarmers, headbands, and barbells. They're lunging and jogging to the electronic synthesized beat of Get In Shape, Girl! There may have been some pastel colored gymnastic ribbons involved too.

4. Intellivision. My sisters and I begged and pleaded for Atari, but our pleas fell on deaf ears. My parents said that Intellivision would have to be good enough for us. Astrosmash was no PacMan, but in hindsight it wasn't too bad.

5. I was totally retarded in math. Totally. Retarded. For Christmas one year my parents got me this Speak N Say. I still sucked at math, but I did kind of like the monotone droid voice telling me "wrong! try again." It was strangely addicting. It also drove my parents nuts, so that was a plus too.




There's a start. I hate to be so unprofessional, but Mr. C and I are in the middle of "17 Again" and it's way better than I thought it would be. Sooooooo, I'm going to cut this post short while I channel all my nostalgia onto a very grown up Zac Effron. When did he get so handsome? Those stylists at Disney obviously didn't do him justice.

Anyway, I'll continue tomorrow with some memories from the 80's toy box.

Later dudes. (that's an 80's reference, for those of you who may have thought I've just had too much wine.)

Boys Are Stupid

Two weird things happened to me today. The first is that my husband joined Facebook. He called me in between my tutoring clients and said "I did something bad." This always causes me to feel an overwhelming wave of irritation because I never know if I should be bracing myself for the most god awful news of my life, or if I should just be getting ready to yell at him for getting his jollies out of needlessly worrying me. Tonight it turned out to be the latter because the next words out of his mouth were "I created a Facebook account."
Well, bully for you Mr. C.
For the past 2 years he's been teasing me, ridiculing me, and making fun of me for my Facebook addiction and now he joins himself? Is it bad that I feel a little intruded upon? That's okay. I got an email asking me to confirm our "marriage" status. Is it me, or is that funny? I'm considering getting my revenge by writing something like, "Married? What? I don't even know this ya-hoo."

Moving on.

The second weird thing is that I looked out the back sliders today and found J peeing on our back wall.
I should explain.
He's been having a lot of accidents lately. Instead of stopping whatever fun/imaginary world he's involved in at said moment to use the restroom, he's been opting to just go in his pants. It's been driving me nuts. So, I wrote for advice to my friend Amy B. who suggested I give him a reward at the end of every day that he doesn't have an accident. That was better than my idea of punishing him by making him taking his pants down to the creek and handwashing them himself using a rock, so I went with it.
Anyway, we had two good days and then this. I hate these little loopholes that kids throw at you. Did this qualify as an "accident" or not? It's definitely an improvement over last week when he peed his pants while playing at the park next door, took his pants off, and then ran down the street half naked.

I never fully decided what to with this. I got out of it by leaving the house this evening to tutor and not coming home till after the kids were asleep. I resigned myself to the bottom line, that little truth that us girls first realize when we're around 6 or so. We re-learn it in our teen years, our dating years, and once we're married, we're forced to finally accept it. Boys are stupid.

You all have a good night.

I Won't Expect Dinner Party Invites Anytime Soon

My relationship with our Flip is starting to feel reminescent of some of my relationships in my early 20's. I so want to go the distance with it, and probably for all the wrong reasons, but the Flip is just not acting like it's ready to commit. Maybe, like many of my boyfriends past, it's sensing an undercurrent of psycho vibes that's scaring it off? At any rate, I've been trying for one, two, THREE days now to upload and edit a video from Saturday night. With great reluctance it finally let me upload, but it and my Mac have drawn the line at letting me edit. Which leaves me to tearfully ponder what I did to them that was so wrong? I've been patient, I've been gentle, I've been loving... and yet, though I give everything, I get nothing in return. I've been in enough bad relationships to know that you can't change a person (um, machine), so it's with great sadness that I move on with much lower expectations from the Flip. Maybe by letting it go, it'll realize someday what a great person I am and it'll want to come back and cooperate with me. Tear, tear, sniff, sniff.

All that was just my really stupid and corny way of explaining why I have posted yet another long (4 minutes) video that is in some desperate need of editing to be really funny and interesting.

My sisters and their husbands came over last weekend and we played RockBand. My sister Sara is "the crazy fun one" and she did not disappoint this time. I, on the other hand, am totally obnoxious through the whole thing. I can't even blame alcohol, as I'm pretty sure that I'd only had a few sips of Mr. C's Corona. Anyway, I'm posting this because I have nothing better to write about. And all her Facebook friends asked for it anyway, so I'm hoping you guys are watching. You know, after all I've been through with me and the Flip.

So you all are on the honor system.... just drag the little arrow thing forward to about 2 minutes/20 secs. into the video. That way you will only hear me cackling half as much, you won't get as sea sick from my camera work, you can skip the annoying "r u ready to rock?" and Mr. C waggling his tongue like the rock and roll star he's not, and skip right to my sister being silly. Which always makes me laugh.

K- Remember the honor system! Fast forward 2.20 minutes! Here you go:

Just a few comments: Ben, evidently I was too busy being annoying to notice but you looked a little bored. Is 7 years of marriage to my sister enough to make you immune to her antics? Or was I just having way too good of a time? Either way, thanks for coming over and putting up with us. Joe, you rocked the drums. From here on out, no one will be able to live up to your performances. You're a legend. Rock on, man. Rock on.

Also, how cute is J coming in there with his big bro's football jersey on to tell me that he loves me? We do that "Guess what? I love you." thing often but I couldn't help but feel kind of bad watching it play back on the video. He comes all the way over to be cute and tell me that he "wuvs me" and all I have to say in return is "thank you?" Maybe it's relationship karma. The whole fiasco with the Flip must've hardened my heart.

Anyway, you all have a great day!

Because Mr. C Likes Huell

I have nothing good to say tonight. I'm only here because Mr. C is watching Huell Howser in the other room, and I'm afraid that if I stayed to watch I'd end up curled in fetal position under the couch. Huell and his enthusiastic ways embarrass me. I often feel bad for Cameron the camera guy. I wonder if it's uncomfortable for him to stand there and roll tape while Huell belabors obvious points and cites everything as "A-MAAAAY-ZING!" I can't stand it, and I'm in the comfort of my own living room.

True story- a couple of years ago at CoachellaFest we ran into Huell and Cameron, and (I am not joking!), I had to pull on Mr. C's hand and frantically beg and plead with him to not approach Mr. Howser. I was afraid of the awkward long handshake thing that Huell does. I also didn't want anyone to see us talking to him.

But I'm sure if you were a bystander watching us you would've thought we were super cool with our argumentative hand gestures, me tugging on Mr. C's sleeve, and the paparazzi act Mr. C pulled as I dragged him away.

Yep. There he is. Good times.

Anyway.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I haven't written much about Baby Roo. I started following her around on the Flip, hoping to get something cute, but she's more interested in watching herself on my side of the lens than performing in front of it. I'll keep trying, cuz really, she is SO dang cute.

And I have to say, not to sound like a doting mother, but it's been so interesting to watch my kids grow into these little people with personalities of their own. My Roo is turning out to be a big old girly-girl. She is always into PG's purses and jewelry. Most of the time if I'm wondering where she is, I can find her wandering around the hallway with ropes and ropes of necklaces around her neck and a purse over her arm. She loves talking on the phone "to daddy" and playing with the big girls. Her favorite thing is when I do carpool and she gets to sit between two Kindergartners. She's a favorite with them too.

But my favorite thing lately (and one that I've been trying to catch on the Flip) is how she loves to laugh. Even when she was 6-8 months old, if her siblings had a chuckle, she would join in. She hates to be left out of a joke.

So, the other day I sat on the floor in front of her and entertained us by making all these fake laughs for her to respond to. I hee-hee-hee'd, ho-ho-ho'd, snorted, giggled, and each time she would imitate the laugh right back. It was hilarious, but apparently only to me. 9 was watching and I believe his words were "Now I see why you get along with my dad."

Really 9? I'm surprised it took you this long.
You all have a good night!

****Edited to note that while rereading this, (besides realizing how boring it is) I also noticed that it looks like the man in the hat standing next to Huell IS WEARING A MAN SKIRT! Huh. I've had that picture in my iPhoto library for almost 3 years now, and never knew that fun little fact. Anyway, props to him- although I'm not sure I would've chosen a 3/4 length sleeve shirt to go with it.

Tooth Fairy Trauma

Well, if you’re a friend of mine on Facebook,, you’ll know that Princess G lost her first tooth on Saturday morning. She’s over the moon excited by this, mainly because it means that she will be on the “Lost Tooth Chart” in her Kindergarten Classroom. I don’t know what this entails, but evidently it’s a very high honor and many will be envious of her new status. In fact, I think that’s what thrills her the most- the envy from the rest of her peer group. Yes, I realize that my DNA is very evident here. The apple does not fall far, my friends.

Now. If you’re a follower of this blog, you’ll remember that I don’t do so well with the make-believe holiday icons. I never believed in them growing up and now I’m just kind of blindly feeling my way through. Remember how I fessed up to spending most of fall and the beginning weeks of winter abusing the power of Santa? Well, this time I’ve managed to make the Tooth Fairy sound scary.,. especially to my son. I didn’t mean to. I was trying to put them to bed sweetly and then they just started asking all these questions. Really, is there a resource with answers for common questions kids ask about make believe cultural characters? I need one because last night I had to start winging it and it got kind of intense. The conversation went like this:

Me: Okay! So sleep tight cuz the Tooth Fairy is paying you a visit tonight!

Princess G: What does she look like mommy?

Me: Oh, no one really knows. She doesn’t like to be seen.

J: Mama, how does she get in here?

Me: She just POOF! Magically appears.

J: I don’t want to see her! I’m scared of her!

Me: You don’t have to worry sweetheart. She has magic tooth powder that she sprinkles on people so that stay asleep and can’t wake up while she’s here.

*At this point, I admit that I started realizing how creepy this was all starting to sound. Tooth powder? What? Does she take her tooth collection to a mill where little elves grind them all down into magic powder? Honestly, I had no idea where I was going with this. I was just trying to answer their questions best I could so I could get out of there and enjoy my kettle chips and wine.

Princess G: But mommy? How does she know I lost a tooth? What if she doesn’t come?

Me: Oh, she has little friends who tell her. Don’t worry, she’ll come.

J: (pulling the covers up over his chin) But what friends mommy? And what does she do when she’s here?

Me: I don’t know what friends, baby. Just special secret friends that watch and tell her what’s going on. And she just slips her hands under Gracie’s pillow to take her tooth. Then she leaves some money! That’s fun, right?

J: I don’t like her mommy! I don’t want her to come!

Princess G: J! Don’t say that! She may hear you!

Me: (making my escape) Goodnight you two! Sweet Dreams!

I exit the room, wondering how that went so awry. Was there a way to make her not sound so scary? Cuz when you really think about it, the tooth fairy is kind of creepy.

Fast forward a few hours. Guess who’s standing at my bedside at 1 a.m.?

J: Mama? I’m scared of what the Tooth Fairy is going to do to Gracie. Can I sleep with you tonight?

Me: (sighing) I don’t blame you. Climb on in.

This mama will be so glad when Easter has come and gone. Who knows what horror stories I can dream up about a giant rabbit that runs around your lawn in the middle of the night hiding eggs?

You all have a good night!