My heart

See this sweet baby?


She turned 11 on Sunday. 11 years. That's how long I've been a mommy. And in all of those years, I've had millions of blessed moments with my children. But it was just recently that I had one of the best. One of the proudest and heart swelling moments I could possibly imagine.

It was a simple thing really. We were sitting on the floor in the living room. I was cutting out some fabric and had asked Emily's opinion on something trivial, the style of the leotard I was cutting out. She hesitated and then told me what she thought.

A few minutes later she spoke up again.

E: mom, can I tell you something?

me: Sure sweetie, what's up?

E: Sometimes I worry.

me: oh?

E: I worry.....that I'm not going to be like you


That's what my 11 year old, almost a teenager daughter worries about. That she is not enough like her mom.

And I'm nobody special. I'm not famous. I don't have a degree. I'm not even a stay at home mom, there to volunteer at school and attend every field trip.
I'm always late.
I don't keep a spiffed up, decorated house, in fact, she can't even paint her room, because we rent.
I give my kids too much junk food and let them watch too much tv.

But she wants to be like me, to think like me.

I can't even write this without getting emotional. What compliment of my life could top that?
What better reward for all of the hard work of parenting?


___________________________________________

At Emily's colonial day dance, I watched all of the kids. Only a third of them dressed up. There were a lot of downcast glances and insecure shuffles.

Afterwards I told Emily how proud I was of her. Not only how well she learned and performed her dance, but how she held her head high, she smiled at her partner and held his hands, and danced without reservation. If she felt anything less than confidence and joy, it didn't show, and I'm so proud that she can embrace life with a smile.

She thanked me and said
"Mom, you make me feel like such a good person"

I told her
"Emily, you're one of the best people I know"

And it couldn't be truer.

As flattered as I am that she wants to be like me...I'm so very proud of who she is.

May maelstrom

We're busy this month.....like we're not busy any other month....*snort*. Busier than usual let's say. It's the fun kind of busy though, like Christmas, where you have to get your tree, and decorate, and shop, and wrap, and visit...and it's busy, but it's fun. Did I already say that?

It's the last month of school, so there's all the events there, like open houses and last minute field trips and "retro day" and "colonial day" which is depicted here:




Where my almost 11 year old, who is rather small for her age, wore a dress that I wore the month I turned 15.....*double snort*

And look what I did to her hair, curled it old fashioned like, with no new fangled electricity or nuthin (pictured with my mommy).



So, that was fun. On top of school events, it's baseball season, so we're at the fields four days a week. Add that to being at the gymnastics center 5 days a week, and these kids are getting a hell of a lot more exercise than their mother.

May also brings the Rose Parade, which we ventured to this past Saturday. It was lovely out, and pictures are below.

But the best part about May, if you ask Emily is that it is ta-da....her birthday month!
Somehow, she manipulated me into a triplicate birthday celebration.

It started with her foregoing a birthday party in lieu of getting to go to San Francisco to see Wicked, with one friend in tow. (this Saturday)

Then she pitched the whole, couldImaybepleasehavejustaslumberpartybecauseitdoesn'tcostanythingplease!

And I was all "well, why not?" so there's that (this Friday), which grew to camping in the backyard, with marshmallow roasting and pizza and cake.....

Except she realized she wouldn't get to celebrate with family and friends of the family and whatnot, so we're BBQ'ing on Sunday too, probably complete with another cake.

But it's fine, I'll need the cake. It helps with the denial that OHMYGODMYBABYISELEVEN!




I still have this little one to squeeze the life out of though




And of course, the boy (pictured here with his dad, they have the same smile)



Look, freckles! Sorry, can't help myself.




Hope you're having as much fun as we

Random pictures on my computer- take 4

evolution of a water hater

You may not see anything unusual about this picture, but trust me, it's spectacular.




Let me tell you why. My little monkey here, she's a water hater. Bigtime. Wait... that's not quite fair or accurate. She's really a COLD water hater. She's a cold hater period.
She takes after her dad in that respect. He hates to be cold too.

We're in May now....beautiful weather. 70's and 80's, sunny and warm. Everyone is breaking out their tank tops and shorts, flowy sundresses abound.

But not for these two



The man in my life is still wearing two pairs of pants, 3 shirts and sweater, and he's dressing his baby in long sleeves and pants. It may have something to do with their complete lack of body fat....


But some of it may be my fault, I suppose. Caliana was born in the middle of July, during a very hot summer. Being home on maternity leave was no picnic in the heat, with a sweltering 4 and 7 year old. Our saving grace was the pool. We spent many a day waterside, swimming (Emily and Damien), sipping ice cold coke (me) and sleeping (the baby).
But she seemed so hot and miserable, that often I would dunk her little baby washcloths in the chilly water and flop them unceremoniously on her newborn baby noggin. And there wasn't a thing she could do about it.



And for the next two summers, that girl would scream bloody murder if you tried to get her near a pool. And during the summer she turned two, when we took a vacation to a water park, miss monkey spent the entire time dry as a bone, which was just fine with her daddy, because a water park to him, is about the equivalent of spending the day getting his toenails ripped off.



So I tell you again.

Amazing.



When I brought out the slip n slide the other day, I assumed it would be used enthusiastically by the older kids and studiously avoided by the little.

I was wrong.

This one took one turn, dried off and went back to her beloved trampoline



This one also took one awkward turn, declared it too cold and ran off.




And the little...... she experimented, she splashed, and she enjoyed




Maybe it's time to revisit the waterpark

owwwwwww

Some days I'd like to punch myself in the uterus. Because some days, that bitch hurts me, and I want to hurt her back. Kicking is usually better than punching because it's more covert, and I like a surprise attack, but it's pretty difficult to kick yourself in the uterus. Not as difficult as hair pulling though, which is my other fighting method of choice. So punching it is.
Today is a uterus punching kind of day.
If you're a man and you're reading this and thinking, "what the hell, this chick is off her hormones" then I say that you should just punch yourself in the nuts because you have no idea what ouchy uterus feels like.
If you can't take the shit, then stay out of the bathroom....or something to that effect.

That one is different....er special

We live in a valley. It's beautiful here. We have vineyards and trees everywhere and our city is surrounded by hills. I forget to see it sometimes. I just see the traffic in front of me, the mess in my car, the jammed parking lots. Sometimes it takes a fresh eye.

We're riding in the car and we turn a corner and behind a building emerges the horizon. The sky, the hills, the trees, and my 3 year old gasps. "Look Emily!"

Emily looks around. "What? What is it?"

Cali gives a contented, awestruck sigh and says

"the whole world"

Indeed.

3 years old and so profound.


Profound, and also kinda gross....and um, flexible....

you know you're grown up when you circle 4-15 instead of 4-20

In case you missed it, yesterday was tax day. No, don't bother rushing to the post office now, you're too late. Penalties and interest abound.
Unless you're like me and couldn't give a second thought to tax day....the first thought being "poor people, have to rush around and make sure they pay their taxes on time, tsk tsk, *giggle*"
Because see, I've been a parent as long as I've been an adult, and being poor and having dependents pretty much works out to the government feels sorry for you and gives you all of your money back and then a little extra, because "woah, how do you survive on that income"
Until now. For a few reasons. I'm not quite as poor as I used to be. In fact, I make 3 times what I made 10 years ago, teen mom, no degree, not bragging, just saying.....

Also, the state of California is so broke they're throwing all their stuff in storage and bunking with their mother in law.
So instead of giving me all my money back like usual, I actually had to pay a tad bit more in state taxes.
I know, right? The nerve.

I don't really mind, unless I think too hard about it. Like the fact that Emily and Damien's dad doesn't pay child support. He doesn't work. He collects food stamps from the state, so in a way, I could be paying to help support him.
That gets me a little worked up, so I prefer to think my taxes pay for things like my children's education.



Point: I joined the masses yesterday, all the poor souls that I snickered at in years past and mailed my payment...on time and everything. Awww, babygirl is all growed up...being a productive member of society and everything