one mom, one kid, still no car

I have never been so thankful for the weekend in my entire life! Except maybe the Friday I graduated high school. That one was pretty darn good too. I have now been five days without my car. Five days that feel like fifty. Try, just try not having a car for a few days, see how you like it. You won't. Your world shrinks to the size of the local bus route and the things that you can bring with you or pick up have to be able to fit on your person, because, oh yeah, no more trunk space period. OK, my person does actually have some trunk space, but not THAT kind of trunk space.

In reality, I have some really great friends and family that have been helping me get to and from work and moving the kids around to school and such and I think we'll make it through this, but I'm not loving it. That's my point.

I actually farmed out a few of my kids yesterday. Emily and Damien spent the night with friends, and Patrick is working out of town all weekend. So Cali and I had the house all to ourselves. I ended up falling asleep on the couch last night, and instead of sleeping in as is my god given Saturday morning right, I got woken up at 6 am on the dot by Cali informing me that she had defiled my bed. I think it's kind of a cocker spaniel thing with her....her daddy stays gone all night......she takes off her diaper and poops on his bed.

My next lovely surprise was discovering my phone was not working, because uh, even if you don't have a car, you still have to go pay your phone bill. Whoops, my total bad. So we got bundled up for a fun bus ride downtown and damn it the bus is supposed to be here in like 5 minutes but Cali is freaking the fuck out because she wants my coffee, the coffee that we can't even drink on the bus, and she wants it in her sippy cup, the one that leaks, and no we're not even going to talk about "why the hell is a two year old drinking coffee?"
After a heated argument, some cussing (me, not her) and a compromise, I scooped her up, ran out the door and ran up the street because shit shit shit, here comes the bus. Thankfully it saw me running like a maniac, kid in one hand, purse and diaper bag in the other, and stopped. If he hadn't, this would probably be a much more agitated post.
I know, right?

So by now, I'm totally roasting in the sweater and boots I put on because yeah, I know it's California but I was pretty sure it was still winter, and it looked like it was under 60 degrees out. And I didn't know I'd be running the hundred yard dash.

Frustrating and uncomfortable start to the trip. Check.

I am of the opinion that buses should have some kind of built in carseat straps. There's the safety issue for one. For the other.....to a kid that is used to riding around in a carseat, the bus is like a big huge playground, and look at all these empty seats, I really just need to try each and every one of them, and there are like stairs, and swooshy doors, and these cool cords that ding when you pull on them, and they can totally make the bus stop and totally piss off the driver when no one gets off.

Fun and exciting bus ride. Check.

So we get to the mall and it's still fairly early, so it's not totally teeming with teenagers yet. We ride the escalator upstairs, because some brilliant person put one right there where you walk in, just to torture us people with toddlers. Then we walked out in the mall and took the escalator downstairs, and no she won't let me help her, and no I can't hold her hand, and yes it gives me heart palpitations. I paid my phone bill and we went into the Disney store.....because, well because I wanted to reallyquicklyjustforasecond see if they had a white cinderella shirt for one of the Disney outfits I'm making Caliana, but that turned into a reallylongwehavetolookatevery.single.thing.in.the.store. kind of trip. And ok, part of that was me, I totally wanted to buy her this forty dollar princess dress, and this really pink and ruffly aurora bathing suit, and all these other little souvenir thing-eys that are going to cost 4 times as much at Disneyland, so really I'm not impulse shopping, I'm actually planning ahead.

Trash Disney store. Check.

We had a half hour left till the bus came back our way so I suggested hey, want to get some potstickers up at the food court? Hell yes she did, especially since that meant riding the escalator back upstairs. Except yeah, they were all out of potstickers, so the lady told me to come back in 10 minutes. So, it's back down the escalator and OMG, there are all the ridiculously overpriced toddler rides that like, excitingly, rock gently back and forth. Why does this thrill them so? I can not comprehend. I also can not comprehend why I whipped out a couple dollars instead of telling her I didn't have any quarters like the smart mommy with a little boy walking by. Oh yeah, because I had 10 minutes to kill, that's why.

Wasted two dollars. Check.



We head back up for our potstickers, except now Cali informs me that she "habs poops". Of course she does, and of course it's leaked out of her diaper and onto her tights and dress, because I've only been parenting for almost 10 fucking years and I always forget that parenthood is ruled by Murphy's law. I don't care if you're only going to be gone an hour, if you don't pack extra clothes, you will get poop. I cleaned her up in the bathroom that did not have a changing table, but a hard slab of counter on which to change diapers. In the bathroom that was completely, completely out of soap.

Nasty ass trip to the public bathroom with a corn filled stinky poop diaper. Check.

We got our potstickers. Cali ate them with relish, dripping sticky potsticker sauce all over her arms, her chin, and her clothes. We took one last escalator ride down to just barely catch the bus once again. As soon as we got off and started walking home, I felt a migraine coming on. I thought I may have to leap into the bushes and get sick, but of course now my baby girl is tired and wants to be carried. I made it home without losing my potstickers, set the monkey up in the bath, and lay on the carpet in the hall, where I could watch her out of splash range. This is how she amused herself




I gave up my ideas of laundry and sewing and am just trying to relax before we have church in two hours. But my phone works now, so hey, call me.

Oh yeah, now I remember

There's no question that life with children is busy. It's extremely, unendingly busy. Always changing, always a new phase, a new activity or milestone. So I shouldn't be surprised that I forget about certain things between kids, but I am, and I do.

I'm not sure if it's the same with most 2 year olds, but all of MY 2 year olds have experienced a period of frequent nighttime waking, and nightmares. They're out of bed, every 5 minutes, sometimes with the most ridiculous excuses ("I want a different pillowcase?", "my sock fell off", "spongebob fell off my bed"), but the reason is usually the same. They're scared.
Emily would always come to us with her fears. She was fairly easy to soothe and talk back to bed. Damien....well, he was a little more agressive in his approach to calming his fears. He would take midnight strolls into the kitchen to find knives for protection (believe me, this one of my most nerve wracking periods of parenthood thus far). No matter where I hid them, he would find them. Tenacious, he was a tenacious 2 year old.

For Caliana, it doesn't help that she has older siblings running around, hanging up posters of vampires, or talking about their most recent lego star wars battle, but even seemingly benign things can be the cause of her terror. The other night it was her mr potato head. Just sitting there on her shelf, waiting for her to fall asleep, so he could attack. Bwahaha! She took it and threw it in Emily's room and went back to bed.
Actually, come to think of it, that guy could be a little scary, what with all his body parts coming off and his ear stuck where his eyes should be. I can kinda see her point now.

Well, I sure did ask for it

Identity Fraud. Yep, that's next on the list. When Patrick went to the DMV, they told him he's wanted for identity fraud in Arkansas. He went by his middle name for much of his life and had an ID under that name when he lived in Arkansas. 2 names, one social security number = identity fraud.

Luckily he can clear it up by faxing his birth certificate and ID to the office in Arkansas, but the DMV still can't get him an appointment until March 24th. For now I am carpooling to work with a coworker and Patrick is picking the kids up from school on the bus. It's not ideal, but it could definitely be worse.

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In other, and better news, my baby boy turned 7 on Sunday!!



We had a party at the ice skating rink and he got to ride the zamboni



Cali slept through much of the party, but she got to snuggle with Snoopy





We had cake




And presents.....lots of legos
We got him an ipod




.....and this. This is Jack




Poor Jack managed to get underneath the fridge on his first night home and we spent 20 minutes coaxing him out.

All in all, it was a great day.

Just freakin shoot me already

Something is wrong with the universe. Something shifted wrong, or or or maybe someone cursed me or something, but listen up here, I am not enjoying it!! First I didn't get my paycheck on time for reasons I can't really get into here, but it didn't really make things very easy, and then my garbage disposal took a big nasty food filled crap, and today, well, today my car got towed. That last one is all my fault though. Well, not ALL my fault, but a good part of it is my fault. I have been allowing my husband to drive my car for years, knowing full well that he is not in possession of a valid California drivers license. Why doesn't he have one. A long complicated string of warrant and then citation that led to fine that I sure as hell wasn't paying....except today I did, because him getting a driver's license is the only way I'll get my car back before 30 days. And let me tell you. I. NEED. MY. CAR.
Not negotiable. 30 damn days, no way, not possible. Every day the kids have school, I have to work a whole town away and most evenings they have activities, and there is the tiny little thing about we have a non refundable trip to Disneyland in 3 weeks!
So, I paid the fine, with my bill money thank you very much, and now, now he can't get an appointment with the DMV to even take the driving test for at least 30 days. But we were told to basically stalk the DMV, call them every day, he's going down there tomorrow, oh yes he is, and just see if they could maybe, just maybe, pretty please just squeeze him in. Yeah, cause it's like an emergency here. Every day that my car is in impound is costing me money.
I've been trying to not say it out loud for weeks now, but it has been going through my head...."What the hell else could go wrong??" so there, not only did I say it, I wrote it down! Open up the floodgates universe, let me have it, I can deal, I can pick myself up by my bootstraps, and I can damn sure learn my lesson. Oh yes I did.

Pretty Pretty Princess

Pretty pretty princess is a game I bought for Emily a million years ago when she was a toddler and I'd pretty much forgotten about it in recent years when my next toddler was of the boy variety. Caliana has recently discovered it and even though it's missing pieces, she wants to "play" often.



Give a girl some jewelry and a mirror and she'll be entertained for hours. Ok, hours is admittedly an exaggeration, but it feels like hours. Except once she's entertained in such a manner, you yourself are so enthralled and charmed by her fascination with herself that you don't take advantage of the time, you just take pictures of her.


"Oh look at me, aren't I prettttty?"



"Yes slaves, you may kiss my shoes"




"Ok, no more pictures, I have to preen now"




I've actually caught daddy playing this game with her, but I couldn't grab my camera fast enough




Five minutes after these pictures were taken, miss thing snapped that crown in half. One of the peasants must have pissed her off.

Monkeys and hookers and spongebob

Of course it was excellent. It's a broadway show. A broadway show with an open ended engagement at the Orpheum in San Francisco. A broadway show that puts a new twist on a classic story. Who wouldn't love that. So the fact that I enjoyed it is a given. Some of my favorite moments of the evening though are as follows:

-Dinner beforehand. We didn't go anywhere fancy or expensive. I had fajitas and a pina colada at Chevy's. However, what an amazing dinner. To be able to sit across from my husband for an hour and a half, talking, smiling, slowly eating and enjoying our food, lounging over coffee and dessert. We didn't have to take anyone to the bathroom, didn't have to try and harness a stubborn toddler into a highchair, or rush through our meal, or buy the kids dessert so they would be distracted for 3 more minutes so we could maybe finish half of our food before we were, oh my god, so done. It was a rare treat.

-When Patrick went out to the car for something, and came back to catch me frantically-last-minute writing in his anniversary card. It's just how I am.... but he doesn't hold it against me.

-The flying monkeys. Oh yes, they were way cool.

-Walking arm and arm with my love down the dark, wet streets of the city. Something about large bustling cities calls to me and I would so live there if I wasn't, you know, raising children. Because I want them raised in diversity and culture, just not with quite that much, um, reality in their faces day in day out. As we were getting in our car, a hooker walked out of the alley carrying a crib mattress. I suppose in her line of work, that's like her laptop....she can take her work anywhere.

-Going home. To an empty house. There's something about an empty house that both thrills and disturbs me. It's even better and more rare than the dinner to be home alone, just my husband and I. We didn't have to be quiet, we didn't have to get any sippy cups of water, or change any diapers, or have anyone in our bed but us two.

But... somewhere in my heart and mind, I am screaming for my children to be home and in their beds. It's where they belong, where I can most care for them and be available should they need me. It's one of those conundrums of parenthood, the pull between marriage and children. Don't worry, I made it through the night.

All through work yesterday I was anxious to go pick up my kiddos. Of course if you have children you know that any time you're especially missing your kids, they're probably missing you too, and will show it by driving you completely insane within 4 minutes of finally seeing you. They want full attention, all you, all the time. Damien starts bouncing off the walls and whenever he tries to tell me any of the million things he needs to tell me, Caliana butts in with a very obnoxious
"NO DAMEN, IIIII TOCKING TO MOMMY!"

It's lovely to be so adored.

Last night I let Cali lay in my bed and watch Spongebob. She says "mommy, way down, you want wash dis wis me"
" Ok, Where should I lay baby?"
"wight here, hab daddy's peeyo, get da bwanky on and get cozzzy!
So I did. I cuddled right up and almost fell asleep. Which would have been bad since I was baking Patrick's birthday cake.
Cali sang along with the spongebob song and I swear when she says spongebob squarepants, it sound just like "Spongebob crap-pants"
I laugh at her and she laughs with me. She covers her mouth with her little hand and giggles and tells me "laugh wis your arm mommy" She wants me to cover my mouth and share our secret little laugh. Dang I love that little munchkin.

Something Wicked this way comes

Yesterday Patrick and I celebrated four years of marriage. Well, we didn't actually celebrate, but yesterday was our anniversary. The celebration comes tonight. All 3 kids are spending the night at Grandma's, and we are going out to dinner and then to see "Wicked" at the Orpheum Theater in San Francisco, and I am so excited I could totally pee my pants. But I won't since I don't have time to go home and change, and I'm pretty sure the good people at the Orpheum don't want my pee pee pants on their seats.
I've heard really magnificent things about the show. If you haven't heard of it, it's a story about the witches from the Wizard of Oz. It got mixed reviews from critics and rave reviews from the audience. Since I am definitely more of an audience type than a critic type, I expect to fully enjoy myself.
I am also fully expecting to enjoy sleeping in an empty house, just me and the hubs. Now that is something to celebrate.


__________________________________

In other news, I've finished one of the outfits I'm making for Cali to wear at Disneyland. This one will be for St Patrick's Day (if you're completely dense and didn't quite grasp that)

I am just loving having my own machine.

Just me and the girls

Emily's cheer team had a competition on Saturday in San Jose. I have a friend who lives there who has a daughter Caliana's age, so I thought, "hey, maybe they'd like to come out to the competition, I'll bring Cal and the little girls could play together, awwww.
So, on top of getting Emily ready, I also had to get a cranky, sleepy 2 year old ready, make sure I had enough diapers, wipes, change of clothes, strait jacket, and prozac to make it through the day.
The drive down was pretty good. We grabbed a delicious, nutritious breakfast from McDonald's and Cali was pretty impressed by the Richmond bridge. She kept asking for "nother bidge peese"
Oh sure, forget the competition let's just drive over bridges all day, we could do a circle......Richmond bridge, bay bridge, golden gate bridge, repeat. If we go in a clockwise direction we could even avoid most of the tolls. And driving through Oakland and San Francisco all day won't make me want to drive right off any of those bridges either.
Since my GPS came up missing a few months ago, I had to rely on paper directions to find our way. We were 2 turns from our destination and only 2 minutes late when we encountered.......wait for it........a damn detour. No going straight, you must turn, you must navigate a strange city with one way streets and try to find your way to somewhere you've never been, hahahaha! Luckily I'm brilliant and it didn't take us too long to get back on track.
After we parked, we went through the door that led to the "convention center". It was huge, and there were lots of cheeleaders running around, so since I didn't want to walk for miles and miles with a 2 year old and all our crap, I made my way to the map. As I was staring stupidly at it, a nice man came up and said "go down the hall, go outside and turn right, it's 2 buildings over"
And wasn't he just so correct. He probably saved me at least a mile of walking that day. Thanks strange nice man!
The competition was fun, and exhausting. I had Emily to chase Cali (for awhile at least), and she loved showing her off to her team and coaches. Caliana has her own little cheer that she performed at least 3 times. Everyone just loved her. My friend and her daughter came, after they got lost too. The girls pretty much ignored each other, but were pretty good, thanks to fruit by the foot, granola bars, an apple, a giant pretzel and a gatorade (okay, that was mostly Cali, and most of it ended up with a couple bites out of it before she tossed it on the nasty floor. All except the fruit by the foot. She ate every morsel of that, licked the wrapper and begged for more.
After Emily performed and our friends had to go, I got Cali to sit still on my lap by promising to take her to Applebees when we were done. She absolutely adores Applebees. I'm pretty sure it's a combination of her love for apples, mac n cheese, ice cream sundaes and carousel horses.
So she sat quietly and fell asleep for the next 2 1/2 hours. My back was killing me and my butt was numb, but I was grateful for the reprieve.
30 years later, it was finally time for awards, and Cali woke up in time to cheer with the rest of us when Emily's team won first place!! Emily jumped up and ran to grab the champion banner, she was so stoked. Her coach totally cried, it was adorable.
We were all totally refreshed and elated when it was time to go back to the car. We took a different way back into the garage and that was our second mistake. Our first was not paying attention to which section we parked in in the first place. We walked from one end of that garage to the other, and back again, and again. I was not feeling quite as elated at this point, what with being a pack mule carrying Caliana, my purse, my diaper bag, Emily's jacket, and an assortment of souvenir prizes that Emily got. Add that to the fact that I had no idea where my fucking car was and I was getting cranky quick. We went back to the building where we started and backtracked, and eventually found the car, on a completely different level than the one we made laps around.
Now I just had to find an Applebees. Lucky for us we passed one on the freeway about 10 miles down the road. My sweet baby monkey ran around the restaurant like a tiny little psycho checking out the horses and chatting with a little boy at another table. She ran back to me excitedly screaming "MY TOLD MY BOY MY NAME COW-E-ON-UH"
Emily kept exclaiming how nice everyone was and made sure I left the waitress a tip (of course I did).
About halfway home Cal had had enough of sitting in the car and started to tell us about it, quite loudly. Thank goodness for Emily. She read to her and engaged her in learning her alphabet with a fun little song we got from Leap's Letter Factory (great movie if you have a toddler or preschooler, you should totally get it).
It sings a little song to the tune of the farmer in the dell.

The A says aah
The A says aah
Every letter makes a sound
The A says


Cali: "AHHH!"

She ate it right up. She may not know it yet, but she's lucky to have Emily for a big sister.

We arrived home 11 long hours after we left and my boys presented me with my Valentines present.
This is a picture of a picture, but you get the idea.




Emily has a competition in Fresno next Saturday. That's twice as far as San Jose. She wants to know if we could please bring Cali to that one too. Uhhhh......

I'm not ready for this stuff

How do you teach a boy that he's not god's gift to girls, when all the girls are flocking around him and have crushes on him and are kissing him!!!! OMG, yes, that's what I said. The little girl that he's "in love with" kissed him on the top of the head yesterday. These are first graders! I know it's the top of the head, but then he's talking about how he should kiss her today at his Valentine party and how his friend has already kissed 3 girls and french kissed one.

I was like

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"

"Yeah, it's where you're kissing and you rub your tongues together"

I just stood in open mouthed shock. I did not expect this kind of info to come at such a young age.

Then he goes

"or wait, is that chinese kissing?"

Then I had to crack the hell up.

So all evening as they're filling out valentine cards and I'm cleaning the dining room, I'm lecturing.

"Kissing isn't allowed at school, even kissing on the head, and besides you shouldn't be kissing anyone until you're like 14 or 15"

Emily: "I thought it was 13?"

*oh geez*

me: "fine, 13 whatever, but not 6"

Damien: "well, she kissed me first."

me: "it's still against the rules"

Damien: "if she was my family I could kiss her all I want"

*now we're arguing hypotheticals*

Damien to Emily: "Do you think I should kiss her tomorrow?"

me: "um, is anyone listening to me right now?? NO KISSING!"

See it's like this. This is how I see my little boy




And this is how he sees himself, how do I convince him otherwise?






On the way to school this morning I said "Ok guys, what are we NOT going to do today?"

Damien: "Um, not beat people up?"

me: "ok, yes, good one, and also NO KISSING!"

Damien: "mom, stop" *raised eyebrows*

me: "I'm serious, no kissing!"

I drop them off, get my kiss, say my goodbyes

and then yell out the window

"HAVE A GOOD DAY! NO KISSING!!"

He whips around and stares at me tight lipped and bug eyed, a look he got completely from me....and man this is going to be an uphill battle.

So please pray for no "your son has been kissing little girls today" phone calls from school today. Would ya do me that favor. Thanks.

The plans we make

I was originally supposed to be married in October. October 2nd, 2005, that was to be my anniversary. I had this whole wedding planning album that I made, with ideas for bridesmaid dresses, check off lists, I had my dress picked out, I was researching venues, something in the redwoods perhaps? It was going to be beautiful. Not too big, not too expensive, but beautiful nonetheless.
For numerous reasons, it was important to my soon to be husband that we be married in February instead, in Arkansas, in the same week that I would meet my soon to be mother in law. Hi, yes, I'm Brandi, it's great to finally meet you, I have to go marry your youngest son now, but perhaps we should do lunch soon.

I didn't want to be married on Valentines Day (how cliche!) and Patrick's birthday is the 18th, so we decided....let's just throw our anniversary in the middle, on the 16th, and that's what we did. We were married by a justice of the peace, in her beautiful home, with no one there but us. There's something to be said for getting married that way. It felt so genuine. We weren't putting on a show, just pledging our love and devotion to each other, with no fanfare, just honesty and sincerity.

There's 2 tiny little things that bug me a little about the date that we were married though. For one thing, Patrick's birthday was still 2 days away, so I was like *gasp* older than him when we were married. Our wedding license proclaims it. I was 24, he was still 23. What a cradlerobber!
The other thing is, this time of year, I have Valentines day, our anniversary and his birthday all within 4 days. Do I have to get him a gift for each one? Such pressure. I try to do individual things for each, but for instance this year we're going out on the 17th, sort of a combined anniversary/birthday celebration. And that makes me feel guilty, like he's getting gyped somehow. But hey, he's the one who wanted to get married early.

Of course we still planned to have our wedding in October, the whole February thing was just a formality (and no, I wasn't even pregnant). But somehow, once you're already married, a wedding, where you're going to be paying thousands of dollars, seems outlandish, frivolous, pointless really.
It didn't happen. When October rolled around, I got pregnant instead....

He does this on purpose

I do believe I've mentioned before how I don't do plants. Not really by choice. I think plants are lovely. I would be thrilled to have a green thumb. But I don't. Mine is closer to black....or maybe red. Yeah, red for MURDER! Allow me to present for your inspection, exhibit A



This is not how this plant started out by the way. It was much prettier, and livelier than that when Patrick bought it for me. I vowed to do my best by it, give it all my extra love and attention and a nice spot by the window in my office. Shortly after that, the flowers withered to ugly little shrively things and someone advised me to cut them off so that the plant could focus it's energies on new blooms. So then came exhibit B, a semi-pretty flowerless plant thing.



At this point I started to lose hope. But I didn't give up. I tried very diligently to get that stupid thing to perk up. The result was
too much water = mold
and
too much sun = burned leaves

and I present for you exhibit c, also known as "Dear god, someone put that thing out of it's misery!"




But my husband, he doesn't give up on me. He has faith. He knows I can do it. So, please let me present for you Exhibit D, also known as "OH. MY. FREAKING. GOODNESS. Does he just not get it???"










Why yes, thank you for asking, that IS a beautiful, healthy, thriving orchid. It's also supposedly 4 years old and has bloomed every year. When Patrick brought it home, my first reaction was not gratitude, it was shock and outrage. How could you do this to me? How could you do this to that poor poor beautiful plant. But he ignored my protests. So I in turn ignored the plant. Until he put it in my car and forced me to bring it to work.
Emily was commenting on how gorgeous it was and I agreed, and reached over to stroke one lovely flower.....

and Emily yelled at me.

"Don't touch it! The oils in your hands will make it turn brown!"

What the....? How the heck does she know this? Maybe someone should get HER a plant. She'd probably know what to do with it.

Now here it sits in my office, and everyone who stops by comments on it's beauty. Little do they know it's on death row. This is where all living vegetation comes to die. Dead plant walking! Dead plaaaaant walking.

we're cosleeping

I'd consider myself more on the "natural" spectrum of parenting, or is it attachment parenting? Something along those lines. I breastfed all 3 kiddos, my son isn't circumsized (and he'll probably hate me in 10 years for writing that on the internet), I prefer drug free childbirth, etc, etc...
The cosleeping thing though, it's weighing on me. The social pressure and guilt... to have her in a good bedtime routine, and sleeping in her own bed, and all that.

But but, I did do that! From 14 months when I stopped nursing her until a couple of months ago when she learned to open doors...she had a good nightime routine. A somewhat LONG routine of bath, books, pajamas, brushing teeth, hugging and kissing, turning off all the lights by herself with her stool, singing 5 or 6 songs....but then she would go to sleep. But now, now she hates her bed. She doesn't throw an all out 2 year old tantrum, but she will get up, over and over. If we haven't gone to bed yet, we'll usher her back to her room, with threats of time outs, promises to take her to the park in the morning, offers of a cup of water, or just one more song. Sometimes we'll let her lay in our bed and watch a movie, hoping that she'll fall asleep, but she never does.
Once we go to bed, it becomes even more pathetic. She'll sit in her room and cry big heaving sobs and mutter things like "mommy, daddy, *sniff*, I want you, *ragged breath*
Or she'll come in and stand pathetically in the dark next to our bed, just waiting for us to notice and acknowledge her, and invite her in.
Last night she climbed up on my nightstand and gently stroked my arm with her soft, tiny little hand, and whispered reassurances to me "Is ok mommy, go sweep" and leaned over every once in awhile and kissed my face, her sweet baby breath mingling with mine, her hair falling around my face like a silky curtain. How could I deny her the time she wanted, the closeness, the affection. How could I order her back to her room to sleep alone, when all she wants is me? I opened my blanket and she snuggled right in, and for that moment, I didn't feel any guilt.

And sew it begins

I was 12 the first time I touched a sewing machine. It was a giant monstrosity of a blue metal thing that weighed almost as much as I did. ALthough to be fair, I weighed much less than the average 12 year old. My mom taught me the basics and I cut out and sewed together hundreds of squares of fabric to make my very own quilt. It was outrageously colorful, and I even worked in a pattern to form the numbers 1993. I was so proud. Sniff sniff.
Over the next five years, whenever I got the urge to sew, another friend or family member got a quilt. Unfortunately I didn't know much about different stitch types, or about how some materials fray, especially when attached to other types of material, so many of these quilts have fallen apart over the years.
Once when I was about 15 I attempted to make a skirt for myself, but I thought it was ugly so I gave it away. My first real attempt at clothes, was making my best friend a sleeping beauty costume my senior year of high school, but to be fair, my mom did a huge part of it. My first major triumph would come 6 months later when I made my own dress for senior prom....I know, brave right? I think I'd seen Pretty in Pink one too many times. It turned out great though and I got tons of compliments. Plus it took the focus off my horrible hair.








My next few projects would include a hideous maternity dress to wear to my baby shower, and an adorable lamb costume for Emily, that everyone thought was a bunny, but I was just glad that it actually fit.



Over the years I've branched out to include a dress for Cali and a couple pairs of pajamas that were too small for her but that she loves anyways. I've also put together numerous other Halloween costumes, including this masterpiece, that taught me a lot about sewing......mainly how to keep my patience, and how to rip stitches out.


All of this has been done with the help of my mom. She's answered numerous questions and loaned me her machine and all of her sewing stuff, sometimes for as long as a year. Well this week I thought it would be a great idea to make little custom outfits for Cali to wear to Disneyland. I was gushing my ideas to my mom when she asked me

"Do you have a sewing machine?"

Duh mom, you know the answer to that, I always borrow yours!

But I just looked at her, confused.

mom: "I left mine at the house in Oregon"

me: *shock* *horror*, what about my custom Disney outfits? However am I going to do them now?

mom: "I guess it's time for you to get your own machine"

And I guess it was. So I went to the fabric store, grabbed a box that was on sale, and I am now the proud owner of a Singer something or other model # blah blah blah.

But the point is that it's mine, all mine and I don't have to give it back and I can sew anytime I want!!

Just add that to the list of Dork-a-licious things I've written on this blog.

Recovering

I think there's a law written somewhere that states that I have to spill coffee on myself every freakin day! And if I'm wearing white, at least 3 times. I have issues I tell you, but you probably already knew that. I'm also hungover. The show last night was a lot of fun. We even got to watch a little south park on Saving Abel's tour bus. For real, I'm not lying! Drinking and staying up late on a work night is a lot like giving birth. You know you're going to be hurting and you're kinda blase about it, like "yeah I know, poor me, haha, it sucks but it's worth it"
When really you forgot how much it sucks until you do it again. And to top it all off, we had to get out of the house extra early this morning for a meeting at Damien's school. Stupid stupid. No wonder I spilled coffee on my white sweater, I'm only operating at half capacity.
The meeting went well though, there were nothing but good phrases being tossed around, "lots of improvement", "extremely bright", "definite leader".
His teacher says the other children gravitate towards him, and one little girl in particular will do anything to get Damien's attention. I'm thinking, "how freakin cute is that?"
On the way to school Damien says "I hope I don't have to kiss anyone on Valentine's Day" and I would take this concern seriously if he wasn't smirking at me and almost winking. That boy is going to be breaking hearts one day, and probably enjoying the hell out it.

But it's a school night

Patrick won tickets to go see Saving Abel at Last Day Saloon tonight. He even got a babysitter lined up, woop! So I guess I'm going out and par-tay-ing tonight. I actually used to go out to Last Day quite a bit, but not for like 3 years or better. I'm a little rusty on the bar scene. We haven't drawn straws for designated driver yet, but it should probably be me since I have to work in the morning. AFTER our 7:45 meeting with Damien's teacher and principal. Ha, better not be too hungover. With my luck I'll wake up 10 minutes before we have to be there and still be wearing rumpled clothes from the night before, have eyeliner raccoon eyes and smell of vodka.

Spring is springing

Hey, bite me Punxsutawney, winters are short in California.





In the sun, she could almost pass for a redhead. And please ignore the fact that my 2 year old is drinking soda.



Just look at that blue sky