Nostalgia

A couple of weeks ago I was going through some huge bags of clothes that had collected dust up in our garage. I was sorting them into two piles- one pile to donate to the Salvation Army, and one pile to burn because not even homeless people would want thrice handed down maternity clothing.

Is thrice even a real word?

Anyway, I came upon this that you see in the picture up above there.

It was my old flannel left over from the grunge era- circa 1993/4/and 5. Remember when Kurt Cobain inadvertently started a fashion revolution that was almost as big as his music? I jumped on that bandwagon faster than you could say "mosh pit." Being that I hadn't worn it in at least 15 years, I threw it in the Salvation Army pile. But then I started thinking.......

That flannel was so good to me. I wore it all the time with my Doc Martins and jeans. (I think I also may have worn it a few times over overalls and an occasional body suit, but we won't talk about that here. Or anywhere.)

Anyway, seeing that old flannel got me all nostalgic. That whole time era was really the best time of my life, not just because of the music or because I was still young and skinny. (bah- I know I'm fooling no one here- of course it was partly because I was young and skinny.) But it was also because I was so..... free.

I lived at home. I waitressed at a coffee shop in Palm Springs and pocketed hundreds of dollars in tips every week during the tourist season. I had my little red Mazda Mx3 hatchback to take me to work and school- and those two places were really where my responsibilities ended.

If my friends and I finished our shifts at the coffee shop at 10 p.m. and decided that the senior citizens had sucked the life force out of us (which they often did), we'd take off and drive 2 hours to Huntington Beach, where we'd walk around and soak up young people energy for a while. Then we'd drive home and maybe do it all over again the next night.

Or, sometimes we'd just finish our shifts and go down the street to the 24 hour coffee shop and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee, cuz we thought we were cool like that.

The soundtrack to Reality Bites was in my tape deck almost always. I was one of those dorks that liked to sing along to "My Sharona". If it helps to redeem myself in your eyes, you should know that I also liked Stone Temple Pilots, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden.

Don't forgive me yet, cuz I also have to confess that "Now That's What I Call Music! Vol.3", also got equal playtime. This was mostly because I needed to have Sir Mix a Lot and KC & JoJo on hand for road trip sing a longs.

I am a very complicated girl, musically speaking.

Zima's, wine coolers, and Boone's Hill were what Chardonnay, Merlot, and Patron are to me now.

I was in love for the first time, and my then-boyfriend and I used to go to car shows and street races. He taught me the difference between a big block and small block engine, and while this information has never proven useful to me, I still can recognize the difference.

My L.A. friends would tape record "Love Line w/Dr. Drew and Adam Corrolla" and send it to me so that my deprived ears could listen to it way out in the desert.

My flannel was there for all of it.

Being that I hadn't worn it in at least 15 years, I ended up throwing it into the Salvation Army pile. But then I started thinking.......and as I looked down at it, sitting all sad and dusty on top of the give-away pile, a couple of chorus' of Puff the Magic Dragon started playing in my head. (If you know me well, you'd know that that song always turns me into a sentimental sappy pile of mush. I can't handle the verse where Little Jackie Paper stops coming around and Puff ceases to roar his mighty roar. Seriously. As I type this, I'm choking back tears.) I realized that that soft and fuzzy little piece of clothing symbolizes a time in my life when I pretty much didn't have a clue what I was doing. I was basically wandering around with a fuzzy idea of what my goals in life were, knowing that I would get there, but not too concerned with getting it done anytime soon. I love that I had that time. I want my own kids to have that time.

So, I'm sure you all can guess what I did. I reached down, snatched the flannel up, hugged it to me for a moment, and gently carried it to my closet where it will sit on a shelf for the next 15 years.

And then I went to look in the mirror and cry at all the wrinkles that are wrecking havoc upon my face.

You all have a good night!

Finger Food Friday on Monday

Actually, if you want to nitpick, this would really be "Finger Food Saturday on Monday". Last Friday was just me and Lils, so we took off and had Subway Sandwiches for dinner with my grandparents. And while yes, Subway would qualify as Finger Food, I didn't want to go through the hassle of explaining to my grammy what a blog is and why I'm taking pictures of her eating a sandwich. So I waited until Mr. C brought our crew home from their week-long camping trip and made them all welcome-home-potato skins.

Let's just jump right in, shall we?

First you wash the potatoes and poke 'em all over with a fork. (That part feels really good on a day when you have a lot of pent up anger). Then you throw em in your oven and cook them for an hour at 400 degrees.

An hour, folks.

Go paint your nails or something. Take a nap. Play some Bejeweled.

Okay. Are you back?

Go ahead and take the potatoes out of the oven and let them cool.

While they're cooling, do some chopping.

Chop up 3 scallions:

Save half for the skins toppings, and throw the other half in 1 cup of Greek Yogurt. Toss in a 'lil teaspoon of salt and stir it up till it looks like this:

Only whiter and with not as many shadows.

Then, don't do what I did and set your backyard on fire while cooking

bacon on the grill. (I am serious- we were this close to calling the fire department. I think if Mr. C has anything to say about it, I'm forever banned from using the grill ever again)

This was all I saved from the bacon massacre of 2010:

Who needs it anyway?

Um, actually, I totally do. Thankfully, I had reserved half the package of bacon and was able to cook the rest of it inside. My house smelled up, which is what I was trying to avoid, but my back wall is still standing, so I'm calling it allllll good in the hood.

So, to get back on track.

By now the potatoes have cooled, so you can cut them in half lengthwise. Scoop out most of their insides, leaving about a 1/2 inch of potato (meat? flesh?) around the sides.

If this was winter, I'd say to take those insides and cook up a pot of Loaded Bake Potato Soup. Alas, it's summer and who wants to eat soup? Do what I did and turn it into a yummy potato salad for the next night's din-din.

Okay. We're almost done. Take a bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil and lightly pour it over the skins (about twice around). With your fingers, rub the olive oil into the skins and then salt it all up. Don't be shy with the salt- keep in mind how good potato chips taste with lots of salt. Then add a little bit of pepper.

It'll look like this:

Throw those back into the oven at 400 for 10 minutes.

Now, at this point, I had to leave. I had a date with some other mommies. so the rest of this FFF is documented courtesy of Mr. C. He forgot to take a pic of what the naked skins looked like when you take 'em out of the oven- but the rest of it, he managed okay.

Here's PG putting her toppings on. I left a tray of a few types of grated cheeses, crumbled bacon, and green onions, but you can fancy it up with almost anything your heart desires in your household:

Here's J. I'm a little surprised by how serious he's taking this:

Here's 9:

Also serious.

And here's Baby Roo.

She's all "Yo, daddy. Gimme some skins."

Sorry.

Also, just need to let you know that I am not responsible for the barrette in the center of her forehead. That little fashion disaster must've happened after I left the premises.

Anyway, this is getting a little long and I'd really like to wrap it up and watch Last Comic Standing with Mr. C. So, here's what the skins look like when you take 'em out:

Yummy. I highly recommend the bacon, pepper jack cheese, and scallion combination. Top it with the Greek Yogurt dip that you mixed up earlier.

Fun and yum for the whole family.

I'll leave you with this image:

My first thumbs up from Baby Roo! Her expression is a little wonky, but I'll take the compliment.

You all have a good night!

How Hollywood Used and Abused Me: Meanie Mom's Story

Okay all. I give up.

I can't write it. It's been almost 2 weeks since my friends and I met up with the most absurd blue collar members of the E! staff at a taping of "Chelsea Lately" and I can't find a clever way to write it. I tried writing this as a "Dear Miss Handler" letter, a tongue in cheek narrative, a spiteful thank you note-nothing was working. What I really needed to convey to you guys was not coming through: the fact that these guys together were possibly the most ridiculous characters I've ever met, and that I actually liked how dumb they were.

To give you an idea: Think Lenny and Squiggy, if Lenny was a gay narcissist and Squiggy was a 5'4 black man with a 12 foot tall ego.

So, since I've been unsuccessful at writing anything worthy, I'm going to resort to what I've read is every bloggers answer to Writer's Block: a list. Maybe when you're done reading you'll feel as used and abused as I did:

Let's start with Squiggy:

1. While standing in line outside for 2 hours waiting to go in, Squiggy would walk up and down the line and tell us that we were "clustering up". Then he would make us all face forward and stand single file like we were in grade school.

2. You know how Bruce Willis can deliver these scary threatening lines in a super soft calm voice and it makes him seem really bad ass? Security Guard Squiggy thought he possessed that same ability. "If you get inside.....(he's looking straight into your eyes and talking so low that you have to lean into hear what he's saying)....and I make the decision.... (he likes to talk slow too because he believes that we're all dumber than him).... that your purse is too big to fit adequately under your chair..... then you WILL have to leave the studio."

3. After he continued to talk down to us about the proper way to go through a metal detector, he scanned me with the little bar, tsk-tsked, and said, "You have an awful lot of metal in that pocket." Without breaking eye contact, I pulled out my single little tiny lipstick tube and held it up for him. "Sorry." I deadpan. He waves me through.

Who's the badass, now? Huh? HUH? Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaah, that's what I thought, Officer Squiggy.

4. Just inside the doors and right outside the stage, he gathers us together and in that same, stupid, soft voice tells us the rules of the show. Basically the rules were sit down and shut up, but the Officer Squiggy version was much longer and entailed him describing to us all the power and authority he had over us. For example, "These mikes are hot, they WILL pick up on even whispering, so if you're talking to your friend and the hot mikes pick it up, I WILL come and escort you out."

I also noticed that he really liked to use the term "hot mike", which I understand. It's a fun couple of words to say. If I had his job, I'd want to say as often as I possibly could too, just so I could make myself feel smart and savvy like Squigs.

5. Our last encounter with Officer Squiggy was when Chelsea came around to sign our books. Squigs had already informed us that Chelsea signing our books was a privilege, not a right. After we had all performed our "Yes, master. Whatever you say, Master." routine for him, he gave us little yellow sticky pads upon which to write the name of the person to whom Chelsea was supposed to inscribe the book to. I wrote "Matt", cuz I'm an awesome wife, and Amy b wrote "sugartits", cuz she's hilarious. Officer Squiggy, however, didn't like that she took initiative to do something fun under his watch and told her that he wasn't sure if Miss Handler would sign it. "I'll take my chances." was my b's brave response and sho nuff, Mrs. Handler wrote her autograph out to Sugartits.

I did think that she looked a little confused about it though.

Now, for Lenny. Don't worry. I'm not going to go on and on about him. Most of our day was spent with Squigs, so it's him that I feel more intimate with and that's why I dedicated more than 500 words to him (are you still with me?). About Lenny, the audience-warmer-upper-guy, I'm have 3 things to tell you:

1. He came running out, waving his hands above his head, clapping, and talk-ing-to-us-to-the-beat-ofthe-muuuuuuuusic. He-never-stopped-talking-this-way! He-just-kept-clapping-and chaaaan-ting! Like-a-preschooler-making-up-songs-about-nonsense. (See what I'm doing here? I'm trying to write the way he was talking/chanting? Are you getting that?)

By the end of the taping he had HUGE sweat stains around his neck, pits, and back.

He was gross. And stupid.

2. He chanted at least 50 times that he was in The Hangover, the number one movie in america last year, and that he was on Chelsea, the number one cable show. Being number one was very big for him.

3. Lenny was serious about his clapping. More, specifically, he was serious about our clapping. He made us practice soft clapping and loud clapping. He told us to laugh, even if we didn't think the jokes were funny. He'd stand in front of us and wildly wave his hands, trying to squeeze more, more, more enthusiasm out of all of us, and if we didn't give it to him, he'd silently mouth "You people are killing me." I was a little bit scared.

To be honest, I think the entire audience was kind of scared. Officer Squigs had intimidated us all afternoon with his hot mike talk and threats of removal for making noise. Now we had this crazy, sweaty, yahoo yelling at us to be more excited! Make more noise! And for god's sake, laugh!

The whole thing reminded me of that Twilight Zone episode about the little boy who rules the town, and if the townspeople didn't do exactly what he wanted, he'd put them in the cornfield. Are you familiar with that one? If you roll tape of Chelsea's audience on Monday, June 14th, what you would see is every single one of us clapping and laughing manaically, like little puppet on a string trying to please Lenny. And we're all watching Officer Squigs out of the corner of one worried eye.

The whole thing was nuts. But fun. In a weird, sadistic way.

And that's how things roll in Dreamtown, baby. I just feel lucky that I made it outta there.

(Kidding. That's me just trying to put a cheesy Hollywood ending on this extra long post.)

Thanks for reading and have a good day!

Finger Food Friday on Monday

Hey!

How'd it get to be Monday already? Wasn't it just last Monday, and now it's today Monday? In the words of my son J, "What the heck???"

So here's my second (late) installment of my Finger Food Fridays series. Are you ready for it?

Ta- Daaaaaaa!

It's Lettuce Chicken Wraps! Ceptin' this picture isn't' showing the lettuce- just the filling. Be patient, though. I'll get you there.

So here's a pic of all the necessary ingredients:

You got your lettuce, shredded cabbage, diced cucumber, garlic, red pepper flakes, 2 diced chicken breasts, water chestnuts, ginger, plum sauce, cooking oil, seasoning blend, and if you're cool like me, you have scallions and basil fresh picked from your garden.

I feel just like Pioneer Woman, what with my fresh picked herbs and all.

So, first thing you do is to get your oil nice and hot so you can throw in your chicken.

Season it well with whatever seasoning you like. I love Cajun seasoning. I think I was a Louisiana belle in another life.

Next, throw in your red pepper flakes.

Don't worry. The chicken does not look that grey in real life. Just my amazing photography skills that wash all the appetizing appeal away.

Add 4 cloves of diced garlic, 1 cup of shredded cabbage, water chestnuts and scallions and stir fry it all together for about 2 minutes:

Don't be a dummy like me and leave a metal spoon in a hot wok for any length of time. Ouch.

I'm going to chalk that up to a blonde moment.

At this point I took a little bit out and reserved some on a plate for J. You'll need to do this too if you have someone at your table with an allergy to soy or msg, because the next step is to add Plum Sauce. That's found in the Asian Isle. It's yummy, but a nightmare to people with allergies like the ones I mentioned.

By the way, it's a cup of plum sauce that you'd need. (Just in case you're one of those who need exact measurements. I personally, usually like to "feel" a recipe. It's been disastrous on occasion, but I like to live on the edge. Call me nutty.)

Okay, last thing you do is wilt about 2 cups of fresh basil into the dish. Quarter the lettuce and separate the leaves. Then ring the dinner bell.

Or, like me, just holler "DINNER!!!" down the hallways as loud as you can.

Okay. Entering the next part of FFF: The fam's reaction.

When the kids got to the table, they looked a little suspiciously at the dish. I tried the old "it's not gross, it's fun" mom trick by telling them that we were having lettuce tacos with chicken filling.

J bought it:

9 said he liked it, but I caught this expression on film:

I think it speaks for itself.

You can see the family resemblance between him and Roo in this next shot:

C'mon Roo! At least eat your broccoli!

Princess Picky fought us on even trying it. We had to get all stern with her and I believe the words "Fine! You do NOT get to go on my blog!" came out of my mouth.

Humph! Showed her.

I did try to fun it up in a real way by giving every one chopsticks and stir frying some rice noodles with broccoli. That obviously didn't work, but I did enjoy watching my kids struggle with their chopsticks.

This pic should be titled, "A Passive Aggressive Mother's Revenge".

Mr. C did like it though, and as always, he's a great model at the table for manners:

Thanks babe. That's great.

Anyway, so it looks like Chinese Chicken Lettuce Wraps are not a hit in this meanie mom's household. But it'd be a good dish for Mr. C and I on those nights when I give the kids chicken nuggets and we eat after they go to bed. In other words, it's good date food.

Oh yeah. One last thing. J decided to change his mind on his opinion of dinner. He wanted me to take a picture of him doing this:

What a (cute) copy cat.

You all have a good night!

Dangling Participles and Unfortunate Nonsense

Sorry in advance. This is going to be one of those non-posts that I put up until I really sit down and write something. I don't know what's going on with me, but lately I can't get focused to sit and write. If I didn't know better, I'd worry that I had scatter prego brain. Thankfully, Mr. C took care of any possibility of that being the case shortly after we were surprised with Roo, so it's unfortunately fortunate that I can't blame a fetus or embryo or hormones or something. Or would that be fortunately unfortunate?

In any case, you know what I mean. And maybe you just noticed (as I did) what a funky word fortunate is. Serious. Type it a few times. It's weird. For-choo-nut. Weird.

Anyway.

As I was reading through the last few posts, I noticed a few EMBARRASSING mistakes. No, it wasn't all the misplaced commas. Those are there in every post because in first grade my teacher gave me the bad advice to insert commas wherever it sounds like a breath should be taken. This is how I learned to write, I can't unlearn it, and despite all the red pen I received all over my college papers, I remain confused about where commas go. Also, as long as we're talking about it, those dangling participles aren't going anywhere either. Those I know about, but refuse to acknowledge because the term itself sounds like something that should be clipped off of a hairy dog's hiney. Perhaps, if one day the snobby grammar professors at Harvard or whatever think of a new name for them, I'll reconsider and remove them. Until then, they stay.

Wow. I digressed.

What I wanted to do tonight is clarify the following:

In my first Finger Food Friday post, I mentioned that my friend who's husband is from Santa Fe, got me the chicken sauce as a gift. You may have read this and thought "Who the heck cares about where her friend's hubs is from?". I forgot to mention that it was relevant because in Santa Fe, apparently the locals put hot sauce on everything. They are hot sauce connoisseurs. So she, myfriendwho'shusbandisfromSantaFe, knows a lot about hot sauce. That's all.

Whew. Glad we cleared that up.

Also, in my last post, you know- the one I forgot to title because I was so exhausted? I mean, I was really exhausted. It was exhausting writing how exhausted I was and that must be how I used the single word exhausted 5 times in one post. Exhausting! Next time I promise to edit myself a little better and also make use of my handy dandy thesaurus. So sorry.

Okay, that's all for tonight. I'll post Finger Food Friday on Sunday this week, because Mr. C is taking the older kiddos out for their annual camping trip. That means it's me and Roo together for a full week. I don't know if I can handle all her cuteness alone, but I'm going to give it a try. At the very least, let's all hope that I can focus a bit better and actually write something worth your time. (Yes, you! Thank you for reading! And for putting up with misplaced commas and dangling whatevers. I heart you, I heart you, I heart you!)

You all have a good night!

Hey all.

I'm just checking in with no major plans of any kind of substantial post tonight. The last few days have been exhausting, and I'm incapable of writing anything interesting at the moment.

I know. You're probably thinking "When has that stopped you before?" The only answer I have for you is that there is indeed, a first time for everything.

So, on Sunday and Monday I went back to my hometown of Burbank. I met up with some old friends at BJ's and tried to catch up with everyone while the rest of the restaurant loudly watched the Laker's game. I had a good time, despite the fact that I spent half the time trying to read my friend's lips because I couldn't hear a dang thing being said. Hi Ann! Hi Amy b! Loved chatting/shouting with you guys.

On Monday me and the old friends went to a taping of the Chelsea Lately show, where we were used and abused by the world's most ridiculous security guards. I seriously thought Chelsea was secretly taping us as a prank to see how long it would take for someone to knock one of those morons out. Alas, no cameraman ever popped out from the bushes. Those guys were for real, and I spent the majority of my afternoon seeking revenge by mentally composing a mean tell-all blog post about them. It's coming soon.

They obviously didn't know who they were messing with.

Tuesday was normal, except I was exhausted from my busy two days of relaxing in B-town with no children or husband to worry about. And then today Mr. C and I had to drive to Victorville for a memorial service. I spent the whole day meeting in-laws and relatives and trying to remember everyone's names and connections. It's exhausting. I used to get annoyed with Mr. C because I still had to give him the who's who rundown on our way to family functions, and this was 5 years into our marriage. So today I ate a nice big slice of humble pie and apologized to him because now I understand how difficult it can be.

That's the kind of understanding wife I am.

He's a lucky s.o.b.

So. I realize that this list may not sound very exhausting to you. It blows my mind to think that in my early 20's I'd probably be able to do everything mentioned above in a shorter time period with less sleep, and then have energy for a Vegas trip on top of that. But now I am old. I am old and I am no longer fun.

So this is as much as this fuddy duddy is going to write tonight.

Sweet dreams, you all!

Finger Food Friday on Saturday

Hi all.

So, I think that this summer I'm going to do a little series called "Finger Food Friday". I've decided to do this for a few reasons:

1. I've become obsessed with Pioneer Woman and her cooking blogs. I love the step by step pictures that she takes- in fact, anytime I follow a recipe out of a book now I feel like I'm cooking blind. So I thought it may be fun to emulate my new blogging heroine here on Meanie Mom.

2. While I try to cook somewhat healthy the rest of the week, Friday is a fun day where I usually try to change things up at dinner. And I think "Finger Food Friday" sound more interesting than "Way Healthy Wednesday" or "Leftover Thursday".

3. Sometimes I just can't think of anything to write about. FFF is my cop out move.

By the way, Finger Food Friday will rarely be posted on an actual Friday. This is because Friday evenings are for me, Mr. C, the couch, and Netflix. But that doesn't mean that you can't try out these recipes yourself on the next Friday.

I mean, if you want.

So. Getting back to it.

This last Friday we were in the mood for something Mexican, so I decided to do a recipe from my Rachael Ray Cooking Around the Clock Cookbook. We had Chili Dog Nachos, which sound kinda gross but taste pretty good. 2/3 of my family liked them, anyway. But we'll get around to that part. Here's how you start:

Take one pound of ground beef and brown it in a skillet:

Hmmm. One thing I'm already learning here is that Pioneer Woman has cookware that is a lot newer and better looking than mine. Please excuse my old rusty skillet. And my less than appetizing camera shots.

Then, add the salt and pepper and continue browning the beef:

Don't worry. It'll start to look more appetizing soon.

Next, cut up 3 hot dogs into 1 inch slices. Watch out for babies who sneak raw dogs into their little mouths.

Kids, don't try this at home. Hot dogs are choking hazards, don't you know?

Next, cut up a red onion.

Flash was a little too bright on this one. Darn.

Add the hot dogs and onions to the pan. Then, add 2 tablespoons of chili powder and 1 1/2 teaspoons of cumin.

See? It's starting to look a little better.

Then, add 2 tablespoons of Worcestshire sauce. (Did I spell that right? Cuz I'm feeling a little too lazy to go into the pantry and check.

And an 8 oz. can of tomato sauce.

Stir it all together. Then, you put a lid on it and let it simmer for 8-10 minutes.

Oh dear. That picture does nothing to show how yummy this smells right about now.

There you go. Maybe that helps.

Also, I'm starting to realize that Pioneer Woman is a much better housekeeper than I. Her photos never show dirty stovetops or rotting bananas. Please excuse. (P.S.- technically, bananas never go "rotten" around here- we just say that they're destined for "smoothie status".)

Anyway, the next step is to put your chips into casserole dishes.

Top with the chili...

And 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar...

And broil until the cheese melts and the tips of some chips turn a nice, toasty brown.

In the meantime, cut up some watermelon (cuz if you're like me, by Friday you're too tired to battle with your kids about eating vegetables).

Well, this pic came out nice at least.

Then, serve it up. Your nachos should look like this, except please replace the faces of Princess G and 9 with those of your own family:

Serve on paper plates. Who wants to do dishes on Friday? Also, please note the bottle of hot sauce to the left of the nachos. You see it? Yes? Good! My friend, whose husband was born in Santa Fe has got me addicted to it. I don't know what the real name of it is since all the writing on the front is in chinese, but we call it Chicken Sauce because of the picture of the chicken on the bottle. It is YUMMY. You must go out and buy some today. Your taste buds will thank you.

So, there it is. My first cooking post. Finger Food Friday. On Saturday.

I did learn a few things. Like, a) I need to become a better photographer if I want to make my dishes appear appetizing. and b) I need to become a better housekeeper if I want to make my dishes appear appetizing. But, hey, it's a start.

Also, the part about 2/3 of my family liking it.... I was a total pain at the table and continued shooting footage of the feast.

J gave it a thumbs up:

9 gave it a thumbs up and an eye roll:

PG gave it a half thumbs up, which is actually a compliment from Princess Picky.

Roo was too busy eating to give me a thumbs up.

And Mr. C said, "Put down the camera and start eating already."

But he liked it. I myself thought it was a little too dry. I grew up in the valley eating Tommy's Chili Fries. Blame Tommy, but I like my nachos super messy. Lesson learned for next time.

Thanks for bearing with me through all this! You all have a good night!

What I'll Miss

Good news, everyone.

This friday will officially mark the end of the end-of-the-year whirlwind for all members of our household. Hooray! In the last 2 weeks, we've had J's preschool promotion, PG's kindergarten program, 9's award ceremony (no graduation for 8th graders around here- what's up with that?), and one high school graduation for Mr. C's students. Mixed in with all these ceremonies, there have also been 2 trips to the water park, one trip to Magic Mountain, one night out at miniature golf/go carts, 2 water days, one picnic day, and 2 pajama/movie days. Whew.

Come next Monday, we will officially be On Summer Vacation. Really, this means that for the next 9 weeks my family and I will be stuck indoors together while the temp climbs up to 120 outside. (In the early years of our marriage, this almost was the end of Mr. C and I. However, we've since smartened up and learned to plan, plan, plan, and for god's sake LEAVE THE HOUSE as often as possible.)

Anyway, as much as I really am looking forward to our summer plans, today after Roo and I dropped J off at preschool, I looked down at our shadows on the sidewalk. And that's when I realized....

this I will miss.

Three hours of uninterrupted alone time with my Baby Roo while every one is at school. She's going to be so much bigger at the end of summer. I just hope that no matter how busy we get, no matter where we go or what we're doing, I'll remember to stop and give her an extra squeeze now and then.

Cuz I'd like to think that she's going to miss it too.

You all have a good night!

Hard Ass

The other week I was having a lunch meeting with some other board members from my MOMS Club. We were meeting at a little pizza joint- not like the mouse place-whose-name-I-can't-even-say-without-getting-the-heebie-jeebies- but a little place where the food is good and the local business people go to grab something on their lunch.

All the moms brought their kids and they all played together at the table behind us while we went over business. Suddenly, I looked up and Princess G was chasing another little girl around the restaurant. Now, Princess G is six. She is big enough to know better. So I called her over and the exact words that came out of my mouth were these:

"What do you think you are doing? We are in a restaurant! You know better than to run in a place like this! People are trying to enjoy their food! Now go sit down and color. I don't want to see that again."

Stern? Yes, but I believe it was called for. I wasn't yelling, I was speaking to her calmly, but I made sure my face showed my disproval. She was embarrassed in front of her friends, and to that I say, ooooh well. I know that if there's a next time she'll remember the reprimand and stop her behavior on her own.

The thing is though, that after I reprimanded her like that, I felt bad- like the other moms were judging me for being too stern. That could have totally been my own insecurities, and I'm hoping it was, but once again it made me wonder if I'm the only parent nowadays who follows a kind of old fashioned parenting philosophy. I love my children, but I'm keeping in mind as I raise them that my whole goal with this parenting business is to raise them into happy and responsible adults. This means they have chores. This means that they hear the word 'no'. And this means that they understand that our household is not a democracy. They're the kids, we're the adults and they're joining our schedule- not the other way around.

In other words, I'm a hard ass.

Sometimes I feel very alone in this philosophy. Every time I get that chain email that talks about how parents should say "yes" to their children as often as possible, I can't help but feel the need to vomit. Yet, I have friends who'll respond to that email and report things like "This really was amazing! Just today alone we baked cookies, went swimming, looked at clouds, read 5 books, did 3 puzzles...." and the list will go on and on. To this I say, WHAT? Are they insane? That sounds completely exhausting! I feed my kids. I clothe my kids. I take them to school, to the park, on vacations, to friend's houses. We read books at bedtime, go swimming, have family game night, and various other activities. But please shoot me if there comes a day in which I feel guilty for doing something of my own on my own time. Not to mention, I can only imagine what kind of kid I would have if they expected all my time and attention to be on them day in and out.

You know what? Never mind. I don't have to imagine. I've met a few of those kids during my teaching career. No. Thank. You.

Yet I can't help but wonder if I'm a bad parent for feeling this way... the only parent who feels this way.

Then I read The Three Martini Playdate; A Practical Guide to Happy Parenting, by Christie Mellor.

And I did rejoice, because HALLELUJAH someone feels the exact same way as I do about this parenting stuff and they were nice enough to write a book about it!

I've been laughing all morning while reading her. Some of her chapters include: The Childproof House: How to Know If You've Gone Too Far, Child Labor: Not Just For The Third World, Diaper Bag or Steamer Trunk, and Self-Esteem and Other Overrated Concepts.

While she's very tongue in cheek (at least I hope so- I can't get on board with training my children to bring me a daily cocktail at 4p.m), her logic is so... logical. Here's an excerpt from her introduction:

"There is no guilt in craving social situations that aren't wholly centered around everyone's children. There is no shame in explaining to your children that they should go and find Something to Do, that the grown ups are having grownup talk, that they, the little children, need to go somewhere and be little children. Whether you would like to share a portion of you time with one grown up or a party of them, or simply enjoy a moment alone, it is time to exert a little autonomy and encourage some in your child."

Amen, sister! Thank you! I am so glad I'm not the only mommy who feels this way. And while I do believe that girl likes her vermouth a little too much (there's one too many drinking references for me to believe otherwise), I know I'll be thinking of this book the next time I tell my kid that they can either put their toys away or watch 'em get thrown away. Or when I tell them to eat what's on their plate or go hungry. Or to leave me alone for a half hour while I read.

You get the idea.

You all have a good night!

Brain Dump

No, not "dump" in the potty sense of the word. Did your brain go there? To be honest, I wouldn't blame you. I've realized that in the last month of this blog, many of my post titles have consisted of words like "tits", "hell", and "Corona". It's time this mama cleans up her act, lest people start picturing me as a chain smoking, leather clad, biker mama.

Actually, I'm not even sure if the biker crowd would even touch a Corona, which I guess makes it a pretty safe bet that no one is ever going to confuse me for a biker chick.

Anyway.

This is literally, a brain dump. I have a bunch of little things to tell you, and there is not one single unifying thought in any of it. Yet I feel the need to express it all.

Here goes:

We're not going to China. The decision was made for us by the people who do the hiring at the American school in Shanghai. They hired a teacher who was already over there and did not have a family to transport. To be honest, I'm a step below elated and a step above relieved about this.

Still haven't heard anything from the job I applied for. Goodbye pedicure dreams, wardrobe dreams, and nanny dreams. Sniff. Sniff.

The end of this school year is killing me. It seems like everyday we've got some kind of ceremony or event to go to. At this point, I've sat through one end of the year preschool program, one Farewell to Kindergarten program (sorry guys- no Tooty Ta footage), and one of the longest middle school award ceremonies in history. Seriously, listen to this: On top of the regular awards, the principal had all FIFTY SIX teachers on his staff come to the podium and one by one present an award personally to 3 different students. That's 168 short speeches in all. My butt is still numb.

I had to tutor tonight, so I left Mr. C a note in the fridge, taped to his beer. It said, "Chicken in Crock Pot, salad in fridge, all you have to do is make the rolls." Next to this, I left the cylinder of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. I came home to flat little baked triangles. I think he thought they were going to spring up and roll themselves into the appropriate shapes while baking.

I want to shave J's head for summertime and post the footage on here. I'm still trying to talk him into it.

Princess G and I were hanging out in the pool the other day and she said "Mom, it's not fair that some things can fly and walk."

I love that she thinks about stuff like that.

And that's all my tired brain can handle right now.

You all have a good night.

The Stop Button

When I was a little girl, my dad used to pull me onto his lap in the EZ chair and tell me that there was a button in my ear that would make me stop growing. He would always threaten to push it. Looking back on it, I guess it was sweet but at the time it scared the H out of me. What could be more scary to a kid than staying little while everyone around you grows up? And that was just one of the ways he messed with my head when I was small. The others included him putting a nylon stocking over his head, silently entering a room, and not answering when me and my sisters would be all, "Cut it out, dad! Dad? Is that really you? DAAAAAD!" (This he did for kicks. Sicko.)

My childhood was warped in many ways, I tell you.

Many ways.

Anyway, this has been a big week for us in our nutty household. 9 had his 14th birthday and Princess G had her "Farewell to Kindergarten" program at school. Can someone please tell me how can it be that this kid, who looked like this when I married his dad......

be as tall as me with broad shoulders and a deep voice?

And how could my little baby girl, who once looked like this.....

now be big enough to do this?

Someone push the STOP button, fast!

Please? Because I'm pretty sure my heart will be in pieces by the time Roo is 18.

You all have a good night!