Thursday, April 30, 2009

Thursday Trivia

More things you may or may not know about me.....or care

1. I hate Thursdays

2. My eyes were blue until I was 12, then they turned gray/green

3. I like stale graham crackers

4. and burnt popcorn

5. I used to want 6 kids, and was proud of it, and told everyone

6. My hair grows way too fast

7. I can't live without coffee

8. I had a collection of lunch boxes in high school, and used them

9. My favorite was Treasure Trolls. It was purple

10. I smoked a cigarette once when I was 8 and coughed my brains out

11. I'm in a hip hop dance performance on June 6th

12. I wanted to be a pilot...until the economy nosedived, now I don't know what I want to do.

13. I have one tattoo, on my toe

14. I took french for 3 years and have never, ever used it

15. I'm hungry

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Field trip

I went to first grade today. With a bird and a 2 year old. Don't you wish you were me?
Damien is MVP in his class this week, which means he gets to do all the special stuff like take the roll call to the office and pass out paper.
It also means that he gets to bring his family in on Wednesday and share some of his toys. Patrick was right in the middle of replacing some plumbing so even if he could take a break, ewwwww, shower! So it was just me, the girls, my 12 year old brother Noah, and Jack Jack, the bird.
Damien's teacher is the nicest woman I have met in my entire life. She never gets even slightly ruffled, and seems to see the best qualities in everyone. I wish she could be his teacher for the next 10 years or so.

When we first got to the school, the older kids were out on the playground, so we were bombarded by Emily's friends. 4th grade girls are just dying for attention, they are out there every day, fighting it out, who knows more, who knows who, who's going to talk the most and the loudest...........

Friend 1: "are you Emily's mom?"

Friend 2: "HI BRANDI"

Friend 1: "I'm Emily's best friend, I'm moving back to Kansas, I'm glad I got to FINALLY meet you before I left"

Emily: would you like to see my bird?

Noah: "it's not your bird Emily, it's DAMIEN'S"

Friend 2: "I already know the bird cause I've been to Emily's house"

And I'm busy rolling my eyes and checking over my shoulder for the entire herd of children to notice the people with the birdcage and come stampeding over. So I usher Cali away from the playground, and Emily from her adoring peeps, and finally make it to Damien's class.

We all sat at the front of the class while Damien introduced us and answered a series of questions like he was a total celebrity.

I learned a lot. Apparently all they care about are his favorites.

Favorite color: red and black
Favorite number: 9
Favorite movie: Wall-E
Favorite second movie: Monsters vs Aliens
Favorite Legos: star wars

and on and on.

Caliana ran around the room "reading books", sitting at people's desks, trying to do their math worksheets and basically making a nuisance of herself. Damien's teacher thought she was brilliant and adorable, so I didn't feel too bad.

Towards the end, everyone in the class had to say something they like about Damien. 1st graders are terribly unimaginative when put on the spot and every one of them like Damien for being either "nice" or "funny", except one girl who likes him for being "kind, sweet and bringing respect to the classroom" She obviously just made all that up. And one girl who likes him for letting her chase him at recess. Now that I believe.

The teacher pointed out 3 different girls in the class that adore Damien and will do anything, ANYTHING to get him to pay attention to them. While at 7 years old I think that is terribly cute, I also know that Damien is power hungry and sometimes callously indifferent, and he will be breaking hearts someday.

It was fun to leave my desk for a little while and pretend I was a stay at home mom who gets to visit my children's classroom and help out. I do make time for the important things, conferences, Back to school night, "special" meetings with the principal, but the fact is, there are 5 weeks of school left and this classroom of 7 year olds that my son spends every day with, are virtual strangers to me. I haven't chaperoned their field trips or brought in cupcakes on Valentines Day or read to the classroom, and I know there are parents that do.

So thank you to those parents for taking the time to aid my child in their education. If your kid has purple crayon scribbles on their math paper, that was my probably my child. Just trying to give back a little.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

A Love Story- Part 2

The following day I was sitting alone at the playground behind our apartments. The "playground" was a gravel filled yard sandwiched between the flat back of the building and a chain link fence that backed up to the creek. There was a play structure made of wood and metal, back before all playgrounds were made of plastic.

We had lived in this same apartment complex for 3 years when I was 6 years old until I was 9, and I remember when they put the playground in. At first we all balked at the chain link fence, that separated us from the creek beyond. Until then, that had been our playground. We soon discovered though that it was easily scaled, but not always so easy for little brothers, so we didn't mind as much. The day they brought the gravel in, all of the children took turns leaping from the roof onto the gigantic pile. My bedroom window led directly into the playground and soon became the shortcut for all my friends and I.

Needless to say when I was sitting out there on that hot summer morning, swaying slowly on the tire swing, and Patrick walked out, that it was my territory and he was the newcomer. I was completely in my element and took great delight in showing off as we had our first real conversation. I performed all the flips I knew on the bars, spun the tire swing with expertise, and climbed to the top of the structure and balanced my way across the top beam.

I don't remember a word that I said that day but I learned that Patrick and his brother Billy lived for the most part, with their mom in a trailer park across town, and that he didn't know his dad very well. He also had another older brother that he had never met named Brandon. I thought that that was the coolest thing. Brandon Walsh, just like 90210.

Other children started trickling out and I went off to play with my friends, but a connection had been made between him and I. I felt confident in calling him my friend now.

The rest of those summer days all blend together. We hung out as a group, me, my sister, Jen, Patrick, Billy, and other kids, in and out, at the playground, the pool, the creek, our houses. Patrick was mostly quiet and withdrawn and when we would all hang around in my room he would mostly keep to himself, coloring or drawing. We didn't talk much, but we exchanged glances often and my crush grew and grew.

One day just before school started our parents planned a trip out to the ocean. There were at least 9 kids and we all piled into the back of Patrick's dad's pickup. This was of course against the law, so we had to lay down in the back, with only our heads propped up, so no one would see us as we were barreling down the freeway.

Patrick and I were huddled under a wool blanket with our heads against the tailgate, surrounded by rope, a gas can, beach toys, and the rest of the kids in our family. The wind was whipping around us and we started to sing. I don't know why....but we did. We sang the Star Spangled Banner at the top of our lungs, over and over. My big sister and his big brother yelled at us to please shut the hell up already, but we were too busy, forming a connection, a bond, grinning at each other and singing and falling in love.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Are we speaking the same language?

Yesterday, Damien was pouting about having to do homework before dinner. I was busy picking up the five hundred books that Cali had ripped off the bookshelf and strewn around the dining room.

Damien: Uhhh, why do I have to dooooooooo this? This is the worst day of my life!

Me: Oh I'm sure it is....stop being so dramatic, I get enough of that from the girls (I'm very sympathetic, no?)

D: YOU sound like a girl!

Me: *snort* that's good, considering I AM a girl

D: I know that! What do you think I am, A HIPPIE??

What the hell ever son.

Friday, April 24, 2009

How to know you're in California

Could it be the blue skies and palm trees?

It's a good start, but you know, Florida and all that.

How about the architecture? Stucco anyone? How about pink, purple and orange stucco? Looks like a throwback from the Flinstones. Not only is this building unique on the outside, but it's very special inside as well. This is co-op housing, where you and your neighbors live like one big family and have to participate in "family" meals and babysitting. Kind of like a commune in the city.

For me though, the real indicator is the billboards. You can tell a lot about a community by the billboards. When I went to Arkansas with my husband a few years ago, I was intrigued by the billboards. There were a lot of anti-abortion ads, paternity testing ads, and even one that just read "JESUS"

I have never seen any of those displayed here in California. No, we are all about the good times here. We have.....

Alcohol (lots and lots of these)


and of course, pot

Hey look, they even take credit cards!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Worker bee

The fourth Thursday in April is always "take your daughter to work day".

The first year Emily participated, she was 4 years old. I set up a little desk for her, let her color herself a desk nameplate, and gave her stacks and stacks of papers to separate. She ripped every other one, but she had her own little tape dispenser to put them back together. She took her duties very seriously though.

Last year I gave her the task of reorganizing my filing cabinets and making sure they were in proper alphabetical order (they so weren't). Partway through, Emily was getting exasperated.

Em: "Who DID this??"

Me: *chuckle chuckle*

Em: "Did they even go to SCHOOL??"

I still tease the girl who does my filing about it.

Today marks her sixth year coming to work with me. Every year she's getting more and more proficient. She's even learning to 10-key properly. She mentioned that she should just work here full time, so I had to explain about child labor laws and such. Phew, she can't take over my position just yet. Come to think of it, that's not such a bad idea. Let her support the family for awhile while I stay home and chill.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


My stomach is rebelling at the moment. I really think I need to start having something besides coffee for breakfast.
It could also be delayed reaction to dance class last night. I've been assigned a little solo part that I really did not volunteer for. You know how in hip hop dances, sometimes everyone will circle around one dancer, and then they my dance teacher puts it, "totally rocks it out, really big and make everyone say wow!"
Yeah, that's supposed to be me. Yikes is an understatement. But I'm gonna try and take the experience and run with it. You only live once....I'm pretty sure.

On another note, how pathetic is this picture?

Please note the bruise on her forehead, the severely protruding lip, the dribbles of snot, and the look in her eyes that says "my life is so tragic"

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Monday, April 20, 2009

Can I please go back to work now?

It was in the 90's here yesterday. That's a little warm for April, even by California standards. In fact, I believe we broke a record.
After lunch I decided to take the kids to the public pool downtown. It has a waterslide, diving boards and fountains, and as you can imagine, it was packed! I wasn't sure about bringing Caliana because she hasn't loved going swimming in the past. She does alright with lakes and rivers where the water is a little warmer, and not so bright, and not so "filled with splashing kids" crowded. But I asked her numerous times if she wanted to go swimming and she was all about it, so we went.
My husband, who also has an aversion to cold water opted to stay home.
We were roasting by the time we got there, and I slathered Cali in sunscreen, which she loved, put her in her new cute little pink striped bathing suit, which she also loved and headed toward the water. We were approximately 5 feet away when she put on the brakes and started to turn around. Being the understanding mother that I am, I picked her up and kept going. I was feeling a little exposed standing there in the first bikini I've owned in 4 years, so I was a little eager to get in the water.
You know how it goes, where you think once they get in, and get a little used to the temperature, then they'll have fun. Didn't happen. She complained the entire two minutes we were in there. I tried to get her to take a walk with me around the place, or sit on her towel and have a snack, but she refused to budge from my lap and just kept asking to go home with daddy.
Luckily one of the moms from Emily's cheer team was there and offered to watch the older two while I ran Cali home. So I started to gather my wallet and my, where are my keys? Not in the diaper bag where they should be. And so that leaves one place, the car. I fully remember hitting the auto lock button before getting out too. And where do I keep the spare key? In my purse, since I usually always have that with me, but not this time. I had left it in the car and only brought the diaper bag.
Unbeknownst to me, Damien had luckily left his window rolled down and saved my life, because yes, the keys, both sets were locked in the car. I drove Cali home, where she immediately demanded a popciscle from her daddy. Her daddy who was not quite thrilled to have his afternoon break cut so short.
The rest of my afternoon was quite lovely. I sat in the shade, swam some, and lay in the sun reading for a little while.
By the time we got home though, I was feeling tired and little dried out. As I'm sure the kids did also, because they started being jerks. Damien started bugging and teasing Cali, which makes her scream, which makes the rest of us want to jump out the window, so he was sent to his room.
I had to go to the bathroom, so of course the kids had to seek me out. Cali barged in and started playing drums on the edge of the tub, and the wall with her drumstick. Don't ask me why she has drumsticks, I didn't buy them. But oh my god, so loud. Then Emily had to come tell me that Damien said he hates Cali, and I'm like "Oh my fucking goodness, are you serious??? I'm IN THE BATHROOM!"
Next comes Damien to ask if he can go to his friend's house, and I wanted to grab the drumstick from Cali and beat him with it.

Today, it's supposed to be 93 degrees, and thankfully I get to sit in my air conditioned office, and they can all be hot and miserable without me.

Friday, April 17, 2009

home alone, sorta

The kids are home on spring break this week. I arranged for my mom to take Emily to gymnastics yesterday, and I was going to pick her up after work. I called home 10 minutes before I left to see if Patrick had anything planned for dinner, or if he wanted me to pick something up.
To my surprise, Damien answered the phone. It was a difficult conversation because he has a tendency to put his mouth right on the freakin phone and speak loudly and it sounds a lot like "MUUUMPH,GER AR BAJKSLD;FJAWOE????"

Apparantly, Patrick had lay down with Cali to get her to nap, and they both fell asleep. I told Damien to stay inside, don't answer the door and don't answer the phone anymore, and behave! Can you even understand me? I can't understand you! HOLD THE PHONE AWAY FROM YOUR MOUTH!"
I could see my coworkers gathering outside my office. Who is she yelling at?

Eventually he figured it out and we were able to talk somewhat normally.

"mom, can I watch TV?"

"Sure, go ahead"

"ok, I'm gonna put the phone down, and you don't hang up and you tell me when I have to stop watching tv"

That boy is SO responsible.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Karma chameleon

Ok, I won't pretend to know what karma chameleon means, but I like Culture Club, and at least karma fits in with this post, so there ya go. Shout out to 1984!! When I was like 3 years old, but hey, the music lives on man.

ANYways, you can call it "Karma", call it "what goes around comes around", call it "reaping what you sow".... the concept is fairly popular in our culture. Sometimes in jest, and sometimes in "OH,let my good deeds outweigh the bad and please lead me to salvation" seriousness.

I joke with my kids about it sometimes. For instance I tell my toddler to please come here so I can put on their shoes, and they run away from me gleefully laughing, until *smack* they run into the wall. They immediately come to me for comfort and I say laughing "now what was that?"
The child wails between sniffles, "that was my kaaaaaarrrrrrma" *sniff*

In all seriousness though, recently in church the pastor was talking about generosity and having a good heart and a giving nature, and no matter your religious affiliation, to me that sounds like a good way to be. Generosity gives so much more than we think. It gives faith in mankind, trust in relationships, hope to the downtrodden, and a desire to do more for each other in this selfish nation. And I do believe that it opens us up for good things, or at least puts us in a state of heightened awareness, to actually notice the good things that happen to us. After all, it's really difficult to accept a gift when your own hands are balled in a tightwad's fist.

On a local radio station, they've been sending listeners out with hundred dollar bills to reward regular people who do something nice....letting someone go in front of you at the grocery store for example. The intent is to spread hope in a time of uncertainty, to recognize people who are kind without an agenda, to encourage a community to not just look to ourselves and our families in a time of need, but to look around.

A few weeks ago, immediately after picking my car up from the tow yard, I was driving around, feeling pretty good. I passed an elderly homeless man, a veteran according to his cardboard sign, who walked with a limp and a cane. I've been known to give to the homeless before. Usually $5. I don't know if the money will be spent for food or drugs or coffee or alcohol, but I hope whatever it is, will help ease their suffering, because god knows they're suffering.
I gave this man a 20 dollar bill. It seemed like kind of a lot to just give away, but in reality, it's less than I make in one hour. I wanted to shake his hand and know his name, the most basic of human encounters, but he wouldn't meet my eyes... perhaps his shame was too great. I'm not under any illusions that my 20 bucks changed this man's lifestyle, but perhaps in the smallest of ways, it helped change his life. Never underestimate the power of a kindness.

Less than a half an hour later, the place where I took my car to be washed, gave me the $27 car wash for free, and not 10 minutes after that, I bought a $3 scratcher and won another 20. Call it coincidence, call it karma, call it god rewarding my generosity twofold. I say there is kindness and generosity everywhere, recognize it, spread it, encourage it. Everyone has something to give, you only think you don't.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

spreading her wings

I'm researching preschools.
Caliana has been in my mom's in home daycare since she was 6 weeks old. I loved being able to leave my tiny baby with her grandma, rather than a stranger, and know that she was being loved on top of being cared for. She currently goes part time, and stays home with daddy the other part of the time. She's getting older and more active, and frankly is outgrowing the small daycare setting.

This morning, she and I took a tour of a rather small preschool. When we first walked in, there were two little boys about 3 years old playing, and zero adults. I called out, "Hello?"
One of the little boys says "ebry-one's outside"
So I asked him "are you guys all alone in here?"
"yep" he replied.

So I went outside to the playground where I found two teachers. "um, excuse me, did you know you have two little guys inside?"

They were shocked and appalled and blame blame blamed the parent. The parent should not have left them there, they should have brought them to the teachers. Now whether they were just covering their own asses, or if this really was a rare occurance I don't know, but I didn't exactly feel like leaving my daughter and skipping out the door.
It's a cute little school, and Cali enjoyed dragging out a bunch of toys, but I'm just not sure. It's all about instinct, right? I mean, it's not like this is my first time. Both Emily and Damien went to preschool. Emily very part time right before kindergarten, and Damien full time, for 3 years. Let's just say he outgrew the in home daycare setting quite early, and with a vengeance.
But, you know, I'm still not sure exactly what I'm looking for in a school. Cost of course is a factor, and quality care, and I'd like her to learn a little something. A certain level of structure of course. But I think the main thing I'm looking for, for her, is freedom. Freedom to run, to explore, to climb and tumble and imagine. I don't think I've found that yet.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Let me give you a hint

Just when you think your kids are brilliant, they surprise you, with their inablity to think outside the box, to conceptualize, to use their damn brains already, please! Now, I'm gonna give them the benefit of the doubt that it was pretty early in the morning, and they hadn't had any coffee yet. Or maybe that was just me.

Every year I create a scavenger hunt for each of the kids to find their Easter baskets. We give them their first clue, and they have to solve the riddle to get to the next and so on until they eventually find the basket.

One of Emily's read like this:

"The key to your next clue is one of a few,
when you find your next letter, don't forget shoes"

She went over to the shoe rack and started checking them out. Obviously she was going to need some guidance.

me: "Em, there's a couple of word clues in there. Why would you need shoes?"

E: "to protect your feet when you go outside"

me: "good! now why would you need a key outside?"

E: "to get back in the house?"

me: "yeah, what else?"

E: "to get in the car?"

me: "aaaaand?"

E: "to check the mail?"

me: "right!"

E: *blank stare*

me: "there's one other word clue in your note"

E: "letter?"

me: "good! Now where do we get letters?"

E: "in the car?"


Ok, I didn't actually say that, but man, I felt like it.

Next year I think I'll make them all like Cali's which said

"look under your pillow"
"look in your potty"
"look in the dryer"

Less frustration for me.

And now, some Easter pics for your viewing pleasure

Coloring eggs

We went to the early church service, and it was very touching. Both Patrick and I were sniffling and wiping our eyes. We spent the afternoon at the park, where we ate lunch, hunted for easter eggs, and ate a lot of candy. Typically we do this at the lake near our house, and there are a lot of people that come. That didn't quite work out this year, and we went to a different park, where it was only Patrick, me and the kids, my ex, and one of my brothers. Not quite a typical family gathering.

Here's Cal in a dress I made her like a year ago, and that will probably fit her till she's 5 since she doesn't grow

egg hunting (Patrick is pointing them away from the poison oak)

Look, he's an angel!! (everyone laugh with me)

Em with her dad

Goofy boy

My other girl with her dadddy

and the only shot of me, self inflicted of course

Friday, April 10, 2009

Good Friday

"Good Friday" seems a little redundant. Friday is good, it's always good. Just on the basis that it is Friday. So I think they need to rename it using a word with a little more PUNCH to it. For instance...
-Deluxe Friday
-Exceptional Friday

or maybe

-Super-eminent Friday!

Yeah, I like that one.
So far, my Friday is only so-so. The lid on my coffe cup broke, BUT I discovered it before I poured coffee down the front of my shirt.
I ALMOST ran out of gas on the way to work, but I didn't!
And when I ordered my egg and sausage mcmuffin, I ended up with an egg and HAM Mcmuffin. Now, you may be thinking "what's the difference?, pork is pork.", but ham can never live up to sausage, never. At least not in the Mcmuffin world.

But it is Friday nonetheless, which means it's a good day. Tonight Emily gets to have a sleepover at the gymnastics center to celebrate the end of cheer season. They'll be taking pictures in their uniforms, so now I have to find her hairbow that I tossed somewhere (read: I have no clue) because, uh, cheer season is over! Plus, I have to pick her up by 8:30 am!! On a Saturday! That is just not nice.

I hope you all have a wonderful Easter weekend!

Thursday, April 9, 2009


That newborn picture that I posted a few days ago....yeah this one

Where my baby was only about a week old. It's been haunting me ever since. Just LOOK at the tiny little wrinkled fingers, and the squishy neck folds and tiny tiny newborn-ness of her. It makes me want to

A. procreate
B. rush home and soak up every minute of her life before she grows any more
C. find a newborn, any newborn and sniff it's head

None of these are particularly rational, and in some cases, they're downright insane (see letter A), which is why newborn pictures should probably be stowed away until after menopause.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Visible difference

Quick note: I've been told by some readers of this blog that it's difficult to figure out how to leave feedback. So for all of you that are blog can leave a comment on any post, you just need to click the comment link at the bottom of the entry. OR if that's too complicated, my email is over there....right....there! On the right. If you don't know how to email.....well I don't know how to help you.


I miss my camera. Well, to be more specific, I miss my old camera. No, not the last one, that I broke, or the one before that, that got stolen. I'm talking about the one before THAT, the one that Patrick left in a casino in Las Vegas last April. I miss my SLR. It was *gasp* not digital, but it took beautiful pictures. Like this one

and this

Ooooh, and this

Now, I have a nice little Canon Elph that does it's job pretty well. It has some cute little features, and is nice and tiny and fits in my purse, but that little lens, try as it may, it just can't do this....

I told Emily I'd take her out one day this spring and do an all day photo shoot, up in the hills, out to the beach, around town, etc.... but I can't bear the thought of doing all of that to end up with "pictures" instead of "photographs"

Allow me to be a spoiled American consumer for a second while I say "I NEEEEEEED a Canon Rebel!"

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

A Love Story

My husband and I first met when we were both 11 years old.
We had just moved back to my hometown and into the same apartment complex I'd lived in from ages 7-9. There was a family with 4 kids that lived across the courtyard, and I quickly became friends with the older daughter, a nine year old named Jennifer. We were both Welfare kids with stay at home moms, absent dads, and bratty brothers, it was a friendship made in heaven. We spent countless hot summer days swimming in the pool, running barefoot through the courtyard and adventuring in the playground and creek that ran behind our apartments.
One sweltering day in mid July we were out at the pool. Everyone in the complex was out at the pool. It was that kind of day. The kind where those with air conditioning probably never left their houses. We didn't have air conditioning, but to us, the pool was better. It was crystal blue and freezing cold. Full to the brim, teeming with children, parents carrying margaritas and bottles of budweiser, intertubes, hot pink inflatable rafts, nerf footballs and squeals of laughter erupting from every side.
That was the first day I saw him. In our apartment complex, I knew just about everyone, and I was certain I'd never seen him or his brother before in my life. His hair was dark and on the longish side, he had bright blue, watchful eyes and a dangling cross earring in his left ear. He was very "21 jump street" in an 11 year old's body. My heart tumbled over itself, and my stomach, fully bared in my french bikini, tangled up in knots.
I quickly pointed him out to Jennifer and it turns out that he was actually staying with her.... in her house! Jennifer's mom had a boyfriend, and these boys were his sons. Introductions were quickly made. Billy was 12, one year older, and Patrick, or Levi as most everyone called him, was just my age. The rest of the day was spent playing, and flirting as children do, snatching each other's toys, grabbing an ankle as you swim by, splashing and teasing.
Late in the afternoon I pulled my exhausted body from the water and lay out on the ground. I closed my eyes. They were stinging from the glare of the sun and the burn of the chlorine. My back was freezing, soaking wet and covered in goosebumps, and my front was on fire, my cheek resting on the scorching concrete, and I was floating.
It is one of the happiest memories of my life. Something significant had changed in my little pre-adolescent heart, something that could never change back.

Monday, April 6, 2009

aka: the chick from Risky Business

Enough about them, let's talk about ME! This is, after all, my blog. And I got a haircut too....sort of. Really I just chopped my bangs off. It's kind of a drastic change, but I think I like it. At least for now.
My first reaction was that it's a little "Rebecca De Mornay"-ish, and then I had to google her to make sure I really remembered what she looked like, and yeah, I kinda stand by that assessment, and did you know that she was born in the same town as me? You learn something new every day. Anyways, here's my hair, and look it's the same shirt that I'm wearing in my profile pic. The coincidences are just popping up everywhere today.

Oh geez, I'm blogging about my hair, can I get any more mundane? Why don't I talk about the weather next? Huh? Huh?
Sunny and 70's if you're really wondering.

Oh wait, I have exciting news! Did I mention I got my car back. Yeah, best day of my life! Or at least best day of the last 2 weeks. Life is infinitely easier when I can drag my own ass to the store for tampons and mayonnaise.

Friday, April 3, 2009


See this baby?

Look closely. She's a juvenile delinquent.

Fine, FINE....that's an exaggeration.

For 1. She's not that little anymore. *sob*

For 2. She's not quite a delinquent yet, but she's working on it.

First off, she's already packing heat, and if you're not careful, she'll totally bust a cap in your ass

Also, she totally goes the wrong way on the slide

She's practicing scaling walls so she can run from the cops

Doesn't use the swings right either, total rebel

And worst of all, she's developing some very inapporpriate language.

We went to see Monsters vs. Aliens last weekend, in 3-D! Way cool. We all really enjoyed it, although Cali refused to wear her 3-D glasses, AND she refused to sit in the booster seat, but that's small potatoes really.
In this movie, there is a very very large robot deposited right in the middle of San Francisco and a big fight on the Golden Gate Bridge (loved that part since I live near there). Well, when that robot is first introduced in the movie, it looms large and there's the obligatory "doom impending" music and the whole theater is quiet.

Except my darling 2 year old baby girl who pipes up loudly with
"what da fuck is zat?"

Yes people, our little girl uses the "F" word. And uses it appropriately I might add. The other kids snickered and Patrick and I were appalled. But I know exactly where to lay the blame for this one, and it's not at the doorstep of my mouth. No siree.

So there you have it, juvenile delinquent in training. Who also got a haircut...couldn't leave her out.

Here's her before shot, I think it was from her pot smoking college years.

Come to think of it, those years are probably what started her down the wrong path.....

Thursday, April 2, 2009


When I found out I was pregnant with Caliana, I had a shirt made for Damien that read "MIDDLE CHILD".
I had him wear it over to my mom's house and I schooled him ahead of time not to say anything, just to let Grandma notice his shirt. Well, in true middle child style, he ran right up to her and enthusiastically pointed at his shirt. He just had to be the one to get the first reaction, be the center of attention for however brief a moment. That's how it is with middle children. I would know.
It could also be that he was not quite 4 years old yet, and we all know preschoolers can't keep a secret.

That was over 3 years ago, and he has now settled comfortably into his middle child-only boy role in the family. He's become somewhat of a clown, always trying to illicit a laugh, a response, someone please pay me some FREAKIN ATTENTION! And oh my god, that was SO me at that age. I remember this one time, putting on my roller skates, and doing a slapstick routine of falling down over and over and over, for at least 20 minutes because it was making my sister bust a gut. That kind of dedication to entertainment, it's a wonderful gift. Either that, or a sign of extreme insecurity. I prefer the former.

Damien just turned 7, so we went and got his pictures taken. This one is my favorite.

It is just SO HIM! And I know that's a weird thing to say, of course it's him, it's a picture OF HIM, but you know. Or if you don't, just go with it, ok?

This is the one we bought for the living room. It was his favorite. Also him, but not as much as the first.

Don't worry, I got his hair cut shortly after these were taken. It's been a power struggle between us for at least a month. It took extreme measures to get him to agree. Once we got his ear pierced, he wanted a haircut so his earring would show. Tada, brilliant parenting, no?

We live in California, where piercings are far from uncommon, and in fact he wanted both ears done, and his lobes stretched, but I have to draw the line somewhere now don't I.

So here he is, all pierced and trimmed up.

He and I went to the park the other night and I got these pics:

First one, normal enough, little boy playing basketball....

But then these....

They're not the kind of pictures you see in magazines of children playing at the park. Probably because they look more like crime scene photos...but this is the reality of children. They are weird, and you will never completely figure them out.

And just to end this post on a good note, rather than a weird one. Here's an award Damien got last week.

I just love that his teacher didn't write some crap like "greatly improved in reading skills", but instead wrote that he's an AWESOME READER!! Hooked on Phonics worked for me!