But Who's Really Counting?

Only 31 hours, 19 minutes, and 55 seconds till the season finale of Lost...but who's really counting?

Minute Maid 100% Apple White Grape Juice Box Trivia Questions

• Question: If you were a 3-year-old, how many times would you ask for a juice box before you finally gave up?
• Answer: 623

• Question: And if you were a mom of a 3-year-old who would ask you 623 times for a juice box before giving up, how many times would the 3-year-old have to ask you before you would finally give in, just begging for her to please leave you alone already?
• Answer: 9

• Question: And what if you were the mom of a 3-year-old who starts asking for cupcakes at 9:45 am, using the same juice-box inquisition tactic she achieved success with 7 minutes earlier?
• Answer: Lock yourself in the bathroom and curl up in a ball on the floor with your hands over your ears and your eyes shut tight. Counting slowly. To 623.

Did I Really Just Say That

If you had asked me 5 years ago, these are 10 things that I thought would NEVER come out of my mouth:

1. Stop using the Ranch dressing as fingerpaint right this instant!
2. Eat two more carrots and then you can have a chocolate chip cookie.
3. Do not sit on your sister's head.
4. Please do not put your shoe in your mouth.
5. Who left a piece of cheese on the bathroom counter?
6. Why is there a trail of pink nail polish in my bathroom at 6:30 in the morning?
7. Is there a reason an entire roll of toilet paper is lying in a pile next to the bathtub?
8. We do not lick people....it's not polite.
9. Do I really have to make you a bologna sandwich with ketchup on it?
10. Why are there are rocks under my pillow?

It All Started With a Chihuahua

Have you ever started one project that turns into about three or four or seventeen others? Yeah...that happens to me all the time. And then my usually dormant OCD kicks in and I just can't stop. Even as I am typing this, all I can think about is cleaning grout.

This time, it all started with a Chihuahua. A peculiar little thing named Josie. She has a penchant for keeping her nose warm by tucking it directly under the attached end of her tail (gross) and leaving "Josie trails" on fiberous surfaces (read: peeing on every single carpet and/or rug in the house). So, I asked my wonderfully kind and patient husband (six months ago) to please remove the carpet in our bedroom before I set fire to it the very next day. Six months came and went, and I just could never bring myself to light the match. I am sure that if I had, I would not have been happy with the results.

So, finally, a few weeks ago, the joyous day came when the husband just woke up one day with only one thing on his agenda (well, two if you count being a lecherous dork): to pull that carpet outta' there.

(Shhhh...don't tell him, but really I stayed awake all night whispering a hypnotizing chant in his ear: "I will pull the carpet out of the bedroom tomorrow because my wife is sweet and caring and she deserves it. I will pull the carpet out of the bedroom tomorrow because my wife is sweet and caring and she deserves it. I will pull the carpet out..." You should try it sometime. Sure, you're tired the next day, but when you've got your husband doing all the chores and taking care of the kids for the day, you can sneak off and take a nice little nap!)

Now that the carpet had been exterminated and laid to rest, I could proceed to the next task - paint. It started with the ceiling in that ever-daring hue of Roadster White. Which is really just a very light cream color, but Ralph Lauren wants you to think it is fun and exciting by throwing in the "speediness" of Roadster. RL is very cutting edge like that. I'm sure he is always thinking about the salability of a can of paint. His niche in the paint market is probably the bulk of his retirement plan. That, or the dozens of other home lines he endorses. Or that genre of clothing called fashion design. That area of culture that I know nothing about or have any interest in. I was born without the fashion OCD gene. Sorry, RL, but I tend to prefer jeans and cotton t-shirts. And your color palette in the paint section at Home Depot.

So, back to my paint. Everyone knows that when you paint the ceiling, you are going to have to paint the walls. And when you paint the walls in your master bedroom, you are going to have to paint the master bathroom. And when you paint the master bathroom, you are going to have to paint its ceiling, too. And when you live in a house whose previous owner loved high-gloss paint in the bathroom, you are going to have to put a minimum of two coats on. And while the two coats of paint are drying, you notice that, boy, the grout in your floor tile is really gross. So you go to Home Depot. And you buy some heavy-duty, burns the skin on your hands and knees grout cleaner. And everyone knows that after you have spent an hour scrubbing grout lines with heavy-duty grout cleaner and a toothbrush that it MUST be sealed to prevent such grossness from ever occuring again. And just for safe measure, two coats of sealant with a minimum of 1 hour dry time between each application must be used. Just for safe measure. And when you get to the doorway of the bathroom, you realize that it looks great, but makes the rest of the tile look even worse. So...if you just keep going, things will be just fine.

Except that it is 10:30 pm on a weeknight. And you have finals to study for. And final projects to work on. And the rest of the house is a disaster. And that unreliable laundry fairy didn't even feel the need to stop by to help out while I battled my compulsive behavior. Obsessive compulsive behavior. And it all started with a Chihuahua.

And What About a Pink Roller Coaster?

What about a pink roller coaster???

Random.

Even more random as an interjection to the conversation about the fishing trip with Daddy this weekend.

And completely irrelevant to fishing. Unless maybe it's a three-year-old's attempt at an elaborate metaphor for fishing. Yeah, that's it. You know, "pink" to represent the breed of fish known as the "Pink Salmon". And "roller coaster" to represent said "Pink Salmon" swimming upstream?

Pink Roller Coaster = Pink Salmon Swimming Upstream

I know, I know, it's definitely a stretch and I'm attempting to make my daughter sound like some sort of child genius. That, and the fact that they are going nowhere near a river that has Pink Salmon. Rainbow Trout, maybe. Catfish, possibly. Pink Salmon, definitely not.

So, I guess we should just call it what it is: random.

Can't See The Children For The Weeds...

So, I think I may have to rescind my recent post regarding the telephone poles in Tucson overshadowing the glory of nature seeing how the weeds in my side yard are capable of partially concealing small children and completely swallowing a chihuahua.

Tips on Love, By: TJ

The lessons we could all learn from a five-year-old about Love...

Yeah...9 is definitely TOO young, T. Wait until twenty-NINE. Or, thirty-NINE. Please.

Great idea on the date thing...much cheaper than dinner and a movie (especially since paying a babysitter for that 4 hours can set you back close to what it costs to have, say, ELECTRICITY in your house for an entire month?!?!). Definitely more fun. Will you go on a date with me? Will my tush still fit down the slide? I might get stuck. Maybe we should just stick to running around. Or, walking. Really fast walking. Yeah, that's more my speed. What's that you say? I'm a boring date? Hmphf.

"How do you fall in love"?!?!? "How do you make someone fall in love with you"?!?!? Does anyone know the answers to two of life's most challenging questions? Apparently preschoolers do. Need marriage counseling? Talk to someone in the four-and-five-year-old crowd. It might be worth your while.

And, my favorite: "Love is...that you appreciate somebody." All you need is love, love, love is all you need. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love. All you need is love. All you need is love.

(now you're singing it too, aren't you?)

My little lovebug - gotta love him!

Not Exactly What I Had In Mind When I Decided To Have Children...

Let me start off by apologizing. I have committed a major parening faux pas and for the very first time in my blog history - which has spanned a whole 1o months if you've been counting. Which I know you have. I am sure this here blog is read by at least tens of people every two years - oh, yeah, back to the "first-time-in-Candace's-blog-history-moment." To get the full effect of what went wrong when I decided to have children, I must include a "naughty" word. A "wash-your-mouth-out-with-soap" word. Sorry. But, it has to be done. I am just here to report the facts. And if a curse word is part of the evidence, then so be it.

Ok, content warning now out of the way. I am (still) so not getting the Mom of the Year Award. Ever.

So, let's set the scene: Loving Grandmother outside with her incredibely cute but sometimes ill-behaved grandchildren. They are doing the "green-hour" thing and are outside in Granny's yard watering plants and working on the lovely backyard fountain. A beautiful spring day in sunny Tucson. Can you picture it?

Said grandson is working diligently on the task at hand - cleaning out the fountain, wondering how much money he'll be able to talk said grandmother out of today. He has probably already asked her at least 17 times how much money he'll be making. He charges by the minute.

Said-granddaughter is doing the same - working that is. Or, more likely, just standing there trying to look busy and pretty at the same time, but really just plotting her next attempt to completely eradicate any and all attempts her mother has made to raise a well-mannered, gracious little girl. Don't worry, it won't take long. She's a mastermind at working out these evil schemes of hers in a matter of milliseconds. In fact, I think she came pre-programmed with an arsenal of them at birth.

"Granny," she says "this is a f---ing man's job!"

Oh, no...there it is. Seriously, when will she understand that feminist remarks like that are just not tolerated in this household? And how dare she call her grandmother "Granny." What was she thinking?!?!?

And I really do have a hard time understanding her pronuncitation of the the "---" sound. It kind of sounded like "uck" when everyone knows that hyphens really make an "ountain" sound. Come on, how could I have failed in teaching her that basic skill? I am afraid that speech class is in her very near future. That, and a bar of soap. In the mouth. For at least a minute. For Daddy and Mama.

Can't See The Forest For The Trees

Or, as our motto here in Tucson states: "Can't See The Beauty of Nature For All The Telephone Poles."

Telephone poles and telephone lines are one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to living in Tucson. That, and the infinite number of potholes in our city streets. And the fact that no matter where you are trying to drive to in this town - whether it be just 4.8 miles away or in excess of 30, it still takes you 45 minutes, nonetheless. I know - it's baffling. I grew up in Tucson and still don't get it.

Oh, and the fact that you can start out on a street by one name, drive due east, and the name changes on you 3 times (really, who are the geniuses that came up with this one?!?!?). And what about those streets that abrubtly end, without warning, and then just randomly reappear 1/2 a mile away? Or, the four-lane divided streets that are traveled by maybe 10 cars per day, when there are still the ancient two-laners with no middle turn lane that are traveled by hundreds each hour. Do you see a theme to my Tucson gripes? I LOVE driving in this town!

Let's get back to those telephone poles. I meant to post these photos a few months back when I took them. And, yes, these are actual pictures, not Photoshop-ed to add the snow. It does occasionally snow here, for all you non-Tucsonans!

See, there's the snow. And the big, heavy clouds. And, look, the beginnings of a rainbow. Oh, isn't it all just so beautiful?



But, wait...

...there are those pesky telephone poles that I promised you. (I'll let you in on a little secret about the first three photos: I said that I didn't Photoshop the snow in, but you can be dang sure that I will most certainly crop those big ol' matchsticks out of my shots!)

It's weird, there is this profound concept of burying power lines so that they don't clutter up the streets and skyline, or detract from a city's beauty. I suppose they just haven't heard of that in Tucson yet. You know we are still a "small town," afterall. And by "small town," what we really mean is several hundreds of thousands of people, dontcha' know. With lots and lots of eco-friendly wanna-be's who want us to ride our bikes to work and go green by turning all of our electricty off for one hour on one night of the year, but yet don't mind looking at a majestic, snow-capped desert mountain through a cage of telephone lines. Weird.

If Only You Knew What A Pain It Really Is

I was reading my friend Jesusita's blog this evening in which one of her posts reminded me that we both belong to an exclusive club: The Order of the Natural Curl. Oh, I know that all of you straight-hairs are saying: "I wish my hair would do that," "It must be so nice to have curly hair, mine just lies there," blah, blah, blah, I've heard it all...

If only you were able to experience for just one month the wonder of naturally curly hair. You might not be so sure about committing to a lifetime worth of an extremely limited range of hairstyles (two, maybe three) . And always having to buy just the right shampoo and conditioner to "accentuate the curl" (read: tame, control, beat into submission). And the styling products that are not too heavy or oily or dry, and are able to give some hold, but don't make your hair crunchy or fluffy. If it's a mousse or gel - I run away. Fast. Serums and creams are my good friends - whoever invented these gems definitely deserves an award of some kind.

Oh, and frizz - definitely NOT a curly girl's best friend.

Please don't get me wrong...I am absolutely sure that I could NOT do the straight hair thing everyday. I do, or rather, have learned to love my curly hair - it has kind of physically defined me for many years. Although I will on occasion spend the 3 + hours to blow my hair out straight - just to have it start kinking up 30 minutes later, because, hey, I have nothing better to do with my time.

I guess the best part of natural curl is that with the wonders of humidity and frizz, it is pretty easy to blame the weather for a bad hair day, and women actually believe you. I mean, how can a straight-hair possibly question a curly-hair about the validity of such statement?

I must admit that, for the most part, curly hair is easy. Easy as in trying to hold a grasshopper easy. But, once you learn that it has a mind of its own and it (and only it) is in control and will ALWAYS win, you've got it made. That kind of easy.

Very easy. Until you need to get it cut. I think the number one rule of The Order of the Natural Curl is: Thou shalt not allow a stylist to touch your hair unless they are licensed, bonded, and insured and have a magic wand that can be used to replace the 2-inches of wet hair that was cut and now that it is dry appears more like 10-inches were removed.

I speak from experience - I have had one stylist cut my hair since I was 12. Not for the past twelve years, but since I was TWELVE! As I have moved around Arizona, I have found it necessary to find back-ups, but not without a thorough background check and a strict interview involving lots of questions like: Do you know who Bozo the clown is? Well, don't make me look like Bozo. Seriously, do you really know who Bozo is? Do you have a picture of him in your mind? What are your credentials? Is your hair naturally curly? What about your sister's hair - is hers? What about your great-great-grandmother - did she have naturally curly hair? Have you ever been sued for making someone look like Bozo? Do you own a magic wand?

Curly hair: it's not all it's cracked up to be.

Skunkhair Skunkpants

Is she Spongebob Squarepants hot new girlfriend? No, but she could be!

Skunkhair Skunkpants (aka: Amanda Overmeyer on American Idol) was one of TJ's favorites and he was so disappointed to see her go: "I like Skunkhair. She's awesome." But, alas, another one bites the dust.

Which is o.k. with Brynn. She didn't particularly care for the un-princesslike "skunkiness" that was Amanda's hair. "Hey, girls don't have hair like skunks!" Oh, but some girls do.

Anyways, so long, Skunkhair Skunkpants...maybe the folks in Bikini Bottom would love for you to come do a show at the local sandbar!

By Smart, I Also Mean a Little Bit Odd at Times

He has the mental capacity to remember an event that happened 4 years ago. He can name and draw at least 7 different species of cacti. He can tell you today's date.

But, he has a shoe in his mouth. A dirty shoe. In his mouth.

In the meantime, while I certainly appear cool, calm, and collected on the outside, I am freaking out about the unquantifiable amount of germs that are happily parading from shoe to mouth. Has the kid never heard of "Foot-and-Mouth" disease?!?!? Well, I guess he wouldn't have since he is not a cow. Or pig. Or goat. Or sheep. Or any other variety of hooved animal normally infected by this virus...

But SHOE + MOUTH = eewww!




He is also notorious for tucking his shirt into his underwear.

Click On This If Your Screen is Dirty

Seriously, Click on This Link now...you'll thank me later! Oh, yes you will...

Grace: A Study in Contrast

My daughter is quite inventive. Oh, yes she is, that one. And, she is ALWAYS on the cutting edge of fashion. I am pretty sure that Prima Ballerinas all over the world (because, as I am sure you are well aware, they are my biggest readership base...is that a real term, readership base...oh, I digress again...) are shrieking in horror at the sight of this little girl in her soft, pale pink ballerina outfit and, um, are those Daddy's dirty, grungy running shoes?!?!?! Why, yes they are. Stylish choice in footwear, my little ballerina!

Why I Can Forgive My Children for No Longer Being Able to Have a Pleasant Dinner in a Restaurant (Fancy or Not)

1. Because of their endless fascination with an apple that can be both red and green at the same time.
2. Soft, sweet butterfly kisses as bedtime.
3. Endless admiration for their ability to wake in the morning smiling, laughing, and playing with at least 10 toys before their little feet even hit the floor.
4. Still being able to read the same books after five years and discovering something new about the story each time.
5. Having serious conversations about why we cannot have candy or ice cream for breakfast.
6. Being reminded each time we drive by one that "Oh...there is another palm tree that you don't like." Note to self: when expressing personal likes and dislikes to a four-year-old who doesn't forget a thing you say other than that pertaining to housekeeping, remember that he will keep said list of preferences and aversions handy to use at the most inopportune (read: embarassing) moments).
7. Being able to read "Where the Wild Things Are" on a regular basis.
8. Quick forgiveness of my short temper.
9. Being reminded that, in certain circles, the word "poop" can be the source of endless laughter and tantilizing conversation.
10. A big hug and "Mama...I love you" -- for absolutely no reason.

Reasons to Wake Up Before 6:13 am, Reason #16

And then there was the morning I realized that the Pretty Princess Make-Up Kit from Aunt "RoRo" needs to be kept under lock and key. At. All. Times.

I just know that Tammy Faye is so proud right now. I mean who wouldn't be envious of this stunning makeover? Soft, supple, smooth skin and creamy, bubblegum pink makeup - it's like a dream come true!

The Plague

I'm pretty sure that I have contracted The Plague. That, or just (another) respiratory infection. I think that my immune system has been subjected to just about every viral infection out there (plus a few bacterial ones) since having children. Oh...when will it every end?

Priorities

When one is faced with the decision of studying for Statistics class or making little-heart-shaped-mini-sandwiches for a Preschool Valentine's Day Party, priorities MUST be established: heart-shaped-mini-sandwiches trump stats every time!

Valentine Schmalentine

If you have a minute, check out one of my favorite "bloggers" and her commentary on Valentine's Day: http://bigmama1.com/2008/02/06/valentines-day-brought-to-you-by-hallmark-and-the-popcorn-industry/

Oh, how I understand...

What Is Love

I received a little bit of affirmation that I must not be too big a failure in the whole childrearing department when TJ took on the question of "What is love?" -- and why does that awful dance hit from the 90's pop into my head whenever I say that (and if you have no idea what song I'm talking about, then you are oh-so-blessed for never having heard this little not-so-great byproduct of the 1990's).

Tangent...Tangent...Tangent - back to the question at hand, "What is love" - it brought tears to my eyes when my little man said "Love means that you appreciate someone." Oh, if I could just wrap that little voice up and keep it in my pocket forever! I'm very sure I'll be needing it desperately in about 10 years!

Normally, I would say that the kid is just good at answering deep questions on the fly, but he was able to convey the exact same answer to both to his teenage cousins AND his teachers, so I think he definitely gets the concept! Yay - chalk one up for me! Oh - wait...

Today, on the very same day T's teacher doled out compliments on my parenting, Princess B's preschool teacher informed me she is still having "Anger Management" issues. In one fell swoop, she shattered my parenting pride. I am also pretty sure I heard a little bit of accusation in the tone of her voice. Or maybe that was my own guilty conscience.

Anyway, forget about that whole "in the lead with childrearing" thing. But, honestly, there are days I wish I could just bonk certain people on the head with a My Little Pony and get on with my day, too!

I Don't Know About You, But I LOVE Cake!

Bite ONE:

Bites TWO - TEN:

Yum, Yum, Yum...Delicioso!

Happy 5th Birthday, My Little Boy!

On the 29th of December, the Y-ego Master turned 5. FIVE. Five-years-old. Amazing how much your life changes in just five short years. Thank you, little man, for showing us that, as parents, our hearts are indeed capable of walking around outside our body.

You are our sweet, kind, and loving little boy - although I am sorry that you have inherited your mother's impatience and obsessive need for germ- and dirt-free living and your father's trait of arguing your point (regardless of whether it is right or wrong) to the very end. To. The. Very. End. The VERY End.

So, Happy Birthday, T - We Love You!

Y-ego Master

This year, in celebration of the birth of Jesus, the wise men betrothed our household not with gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh, but rather box upon box upon box of Legos - the Lego City Airport, the Lego City Rescue Helicopter, the Aquaraiders Lobster Strike, the Mars Mission Strike Fighter, the Police Helicopter, the Fire Rescue Truck, and the huge variety set, otherwise known as the "Big Blue Box of Legos" - I think there may be more, but they are mercifully hidden under the treasure troves of all the other Lego sets.

T has become a skilled Y-ego Master in the span of just one week. We thought we were going to have to spend big bucks on tuition for the International School for Lego Architecture, but alas, the boy is a natural! In fact, he is a lego-building fool...a Lego Ninja (see pic below)...a Lego Guru...the Swami of all Lego Builders...a Lego virtuoso, if you will.

Oh, I'm kidding - but seriously, the kid is obsessed with those tiny building blocks of rock-hard plastic that feel oh-so-wonderful on the bottom of bare feet. He goes to bed thinking about the Lego accomplishments of the day, and wakes up the next morning to finish the next big thing! Who knew that all it would take to bridge the gap of boredom was a $29.99 box of Legos?

Do they offer Lego insurance? I think the vast Lego collection now residing in our home has got to be approaching a net value of at least $250. Note to self: see if we can take out a second based on the value of our children's toys...

Reasons to Wake Up Before 6:13 am, Reason # 2

Like Little Husk-Wrapped Gifts from Heaven

I love tamales. I love tamales. I LOVE tamales. I LOVE tamales! I LOVE Tamales!

But especially the homemade ones. They are lovely, and fresh, and wrapped inside a cornhusk, with all kinds of yummy masa, and meat, and a green olive (or if you're lucky, two) inside!

Red tamales are awesome, but a good green-corn tamale is just about as good as it gets...blissful!

I am pretty sure that tamales are little presents of joy sent straight from heaven. They are wrapped (just like a present), they make you feel oh-so-good inside (just like a good present), and have even more inside than you expect (like a really, really good present).

See...I told you they are like little, heavenly gifts!

In case you were wondering, if I ever need to choose a "last meal", tamales would be it. Well, maybe tamales with a big ol' helping of Italian: mezzaluna with a sun-dried tomato sauce would be perfect. Ummmm, ahora tengo hambre (oh, good, my Spanish class is finally coming in handy)!

O' Tannenbaum, O'Tannenbaum - Oh...Tannenbaum

I entrusted all of the Christmas ornaments (glass & metal alike) to the ever-steady hands of a 3- and 4 1/2 - year old this past weekend (well, all but my one or two or eight of my most cherished). Bold, venturesome, crazy...I know!

But you know what, they managed not to drop or break even one!

I hate to admit it, but the only casualty of the night was all me. And, truthfully, it would have been a "no-breaker" if my overwhelming need to replace all of the old, yucky hooks with the newer, more attractive hooks from Crate-and-Barrel hadn't taken over.

Don't judge me, Perfectionism is a disease. See I capitalized it, so it is. Really.

And I know if anyone were to look closely at my brand new ornament hooks, they will notice nothing special about them. But they are - really. I got them from CRATE AND BARREL and they were only $0.99 for 50, or maybe they were $1.99, or maybe...ok, I actually am not sure how much they really cost, but I know they weren't expensive. And they curve a little differently than my old ones. And they are just the right length. And...ok, now you can judge me.

Anyway - here is a picture of the kid's version of the tree. And, yes, immediately after they went to bed, I couldn't stand it any more and redistributed the ornaments evenly throughout the tree...Perfectionism is a disease!

Ornament Exchange Etiquette Tip

When attending a Christmas Ornament Exchange Party, do not bring the Lenox China Keepsake Ornament that you received as a wedding gift 3 years ago.

Especially when said keepsake ornament is inscribed with "Our First Christmas, 2004" - Really. I am pretty sure you will be the only one in the room who the ornament would be suitable for...think about it.

Jump into your Honda, and instead of stopping at Starbucks for an Iced Caffe Mocha for you and a friend, swing by Pier One - or Crate and Barrel - or Hallmark - or even Target, and use that $7 or $8 to buy a tasteful bauble that the recipient will at least be tempted to place on their tree this year. Thanks.

Reasons To Wake Up Before 6:13 am, Reason #12

Playdoh.

Mama, I'm Hungry...

You just ate.

But I'm still hungry.

You should have finished the food on your plate.

But I'm still hungry.

Here, have a piece of fruit. Yogurt? Raisins?

No.

Well, what is it that you want, then?

Chocolate.

No.

But I'm Huuuuuunnnnnnggggrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyy!

No! (as I inwardly curse the Trick-or-Treating festivities that gave way to this daily conversation)

Amazing Turkey Recipes

T's preschool teacher had her students (four-year-olds, mind you) provide us with their best turkey recipes. Here's the little man's:

"Go to a barn to get your turkey. Catch the one that is really clean. Shoot him! Take him to the oven. Pull the feathers off. Put a gallon of cinnamon all over the outside. Put 10 cups of juice around the turkey. Put it in an oven on ten. Cook it for thirty minutes. You can have turkey sandwiches. Have turkey custard for dessert!"

Yummy! Do you want some?!?!

"Catch the one that is really clean" - obviously, the poor child has inherited his mama's fear of dirty, disease-ridden birds.

"Shoot him!" - He's his father's son, alright!

"...a gallon of cinnamon..." Now that's just...interesting (and a little wierd)!

It's Friday...

That is my son...on Friday...at 12:13 pm...still in his jammies. Nice. The "Mom-of-the-Year" Award Committee will definitely NOT be knocking at my door this year! Oh well, at least Brynn was dressed for the occassion...afterall, the ball is just hours away!

Reasons To Wake Up Before 6:13 AM, Reason #31

6:30 am: Walk into bathroom to wash face.

6:30:23 am: Faint smell of something...what is that?

6:30:29 am: Really, what IS that...I know that smell but can't seem to place it. Weird.

6:31 am: Do a lightning-speed flip through the little rolodex of odors in my head. Cleaning product? No - not strong enough. Toothpaste. No - not sweet enough. Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm. No - not minty enough. It is more chemical, more...

6:31:10 am: Then I look down. Oh - nail polish...that's the smell that absolutely does not belong in my bathroom at 6:30 am. In "Rose to the Occasion" pink. On my ceramic tile floor. With a little trail leading out to the hallway. Awesome.

6:31:19 am: Follow the bright pink trail of lacquer to the second bathroom where a little girl is frantically scrubbing her tiny little fingers with a tiny little piece of toilet paper covered in a whole bunch of Kandoo Jungle Fruits soap - extra foamy. Fantastic.

6:31:23 am: Process a plan of action to clean the streaks of "Rose to the Occasion" (and boy did she ever) off of her legs, her stomach, her face, fingers, and toes at a time of the morning when I can hardly manage the monumental task of actually removing myself from my down comforter that is oh so comfy...

6:31:30: A sponge bath with nail polish remover ought to do the trick. That and training myself to wake up before Brynn. Her internal alarm clock (which she never, ever hits the snooze button on) goes off at 6:13 am - everyday, rain or shine, late-to-bed or not - it's amazing! But early. Early.

I have to give the diva some credit where credit is due, however. She did manage to remove the nail polish cap without spilling it all over the floor (otherwise, this story would have a dramatically different tone). And if you look close, she did a fairly decent job of full coverage on her nails.

And the cuticles. And in between the fingers and toes...

Note to Self

Don't submit yourself to unneccesary torture. Before taking small children to a new park...please do a drive by (without children of course), taking the time to scope it out first. Most importantly, determine whether or not the bathrooms are more than 150 yards away from the gigantic treehouse play structure...if so, don't take the kids there. Ever. Ever. EVER.

Quote of the Day

"No."
-Anonymous

A Moment of Zen for All Y'All

Deep thoughts from a 4 year old:

"Why are you still here if you're not going anywhere?"

The kid's amazing. Such wisdom. Such insight. Quite enigmatic, this one. Our own little Buddha. Or maybe the 'Tao of T' is really just the nonsensical ramblings of a 4 year old...

Fashionista

Brynn can be quite the little diva...this is what she would wear to school everyday if left to her own devices. Well, she MIGHT put on clothes (but only if it's a dress or skirt), and she may even treat her admirers to some highly fashionable knit purple or pink polka dot mittens - worn on either the hands or the feet, and I am pretty sure she would don her crown so that nobody would mistake her for anything other than the princess that she is!

Trick-or-Treating with Davy Jones

Trick-or-Treating was fun...well, it was fun until we got to the, um let's see, second house. You see, there were some very well-meaning, fun-loving neighbors who were really into the spirit of Halloween. Maybe it was the fact that we had just come from a sweet older woman who was VERY interested in Princess B's story about the Cinderella costume, or maybe it was the strobe light and spider webs; maybe the creepy Halloween music; maybe even the risque "Policewoman", or MAYBE it was just the really tall man dressed up in a very realistic Davy Jones costume from Pirates of the Caribbean (otherwise known as "Octopus Pirate Guy" at our house).

Whatever it was, Princess B decided right then and there that Trick-or-Treating was a highly questionable event. No more running eagerly up the driveway for her candy, and definitely no more ringing of the doorbell - who knows who (or what) might open that door! She did finish her Trick-or-Treating escapade, because after all, candy was involved. But, she did so quite reluctantly, dragging her little feet along in her flashing Cinderella glass slippers...TRICK-OR-TREAT!!!!

Oh...and did I mention that T was bold this year and chose the Fireman costume for the THIRD time? He plays it safe...consistency is key with this one!

On A Good Day...

It is a rare occasion to have both of my children standing nicely together for a photo...it is even rarer to have both sets of eyes open, looking in the general vicinity of the camera, and an expression that is not on the verge of hysteria...so, PLEASE, enjoy - it may be a while before this happens again!

Oh...and please ignore the dubious hand placement and mischevious grin - he loves his little sister, really!

Curse of the Oleander

Who plants an oleander because it would "just be so pretty here"? Definitely not a native Arizonan! We know better....they are poisonous, allergenic masses of ugly! It has about all the glory of gravel - you can walk all over it, probably drive all over it, and it doesn't seem to mind.

We have three huge ones in our front yard that came with the house - I have hated those things since we moved in. We finally bit the bullet and paid a landscaper to remove them for us, but the darn things are so stubborn that they just about pulled his truck bumper off as he was attempting to pull them out with a chain.

Vegetation killer, gasoline (can't burn them though because the smoke is toxic), maybe a shotgun??? Regrettably, I think the only thing that will get rid of these awful speciman of a plant will be hours and hours and hours upon more hours of digging (by my husband, of course)!

Best Invention Ever

...well at least one of the best inventions ever: the BLEACH PEN!!!

Case in point: the yucky white handles of white appliances...if anyone has white-on-white, you probably know what I am talking about...and all I have to say is thank goodness my special little secret weapon...the Clorox Bleach Pen!

The Wonderful World of Disney

Even the most well thought out plans have unknown variables. Case in point...the Treiber's first trip to Disneyland!

We started with a solid foundation: a great rate on airfare...two really nice two-room suites at the Doubletree...a comfy rental car...five days: 2 for travel, 3 for fun...a great deal on all of our 3-day Disney tickets for only $500...and 2 very excited little ones!

We ended up with all of the above plus an added bonus: 5 days of 100+ degree temps in Anaheim...in addition to the extreme heat, add high-humidity and you have a super-grouchy mom, cranky kids, a hot granny, and a grumpy dad! On top of the heat-induced bitterness, add a little princess want-a-be who now wants absolutely nothing to do with her friends Cinderella, Snow White, and Belle and you have a slightly unpleasant Treiber experience at the "Happiest Place on Earth."





However, the little man was a real trooper and went all out in his first amusement park experience: Thunder Canyon Railroad, Space Mountain, the Tower of Terror, and the Grizzly River Run...Hubby and I are still not sure what he actually thought...but he said he had fun. The only one we really know he was absolutely thrilled about was the river ride...he thoroughly enjoyed Mama and Daddy getting absolutely soaked!





The wonderful world of Disney...not so wonderful this weekend, but maybe next time!

Happily Ever After...The End

Phew...we just completed a three day celebration of Brynn's 3rd birthday...I did not realize until this evening that my daughter (at least at this age) will never grow weary of princess themed clothing, toys, stickers, napkins, plates, cups, utensils, coloring books, shoes, etc, etc. I didn't know there was really that much "princess" stuff out there!

She partied with the Treiber's at Aunt Lori's house: pizza and a blue-and-pink Cinderella ice cream cake...lots of adorable ballerina-themed outfits and gear, two really pretty dresses, and Ariel the Little Mermaid!

Daddy and brother took her to see Ratatouille on Sunday - wonderfully kind thought, but without any really girly characters, and definitely no princesses, she was sorely disappointed (but she got to wear a pink tutu skirt out with Daddy, which has never happened before...I still don't think Daddy was to keen on the outfit, but hey, it's her birthday)!

We rounded out the celebration at Granny's house with a pink cake (inside and out), pink ice cream, and the winner-of-the-most-cherished-gift-by-Brynn award: a big, poufy, Cinderella gown with matching glass slippers that have blinking blue lights in the heels...she already asked if she could wear it to school tomorrow!

Pink...Princesses...Ballerinas...Dresses...Shoes...what more could a little girl ask for?!?!?!

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!

Things That Do Not Go Together

Bananas and mayonnaise...chocolate and mustard...white shorts and green grass...diet coke and mentos...libraries and three-year-olds...a pretty pink & white boutique party dress and royal blue icing from a Cinderella ice cream cake.

Divide and Conquer

After much thought and consideration, and an unbelievable amount of stress, I have decided to wait and apply for the Fall 2008 BSN (Nursing) program. I was going to apply for the one starting this coming January, but that would have meant carrying 18 credit hours this semester, along with studying for an intensive assessment exam, taking a CPR course, and aquiring at least 8 more hours of volunteer time. My pride and perfection wanted me to go for it, but finally reason took over. It is only a 7-month setback - and what is 7 months in the grand scheme of things, right? Now I have a few extra months to divide and conquer the huge list of application criteria before the deadline of mid-March...phew!

And Then There Were Five

Five days until we are walking through the gates of the happiest place on earth! The kids are down to the last five links on their paper countdown chains and are becoming so excited...Disneyland here we come!

My Name Is Earl...

When I was managing apartments in Prescott, one of my service guys was named Earl. Earl B...from Ely, Minnesota. I loved Earl - he had the best Pollock jokes (he was Polish, which makes it ok), was a great storyteller, had a heart of gold, and played the bass guitar. One night we went to watch him play at a local bar - he was really great, and according to legend, may have toured in the 60's and 70's with some renowned rock bands. Anyways, he played "Mustang Sally" that night and it was the best rendition of that song that I have ever heard...I've never forgotten it.

I was at Starbucks this week, and they were playing "Mustang Sally" covered by Wilson Pickett - it reminded me of Earl and I've thought about him all week - when I left Prescott, he was going through some rough times, I think with drinking, a DUI, and job/marital problems. I wish I had taken the time to keep in touch with Earl - he is one of those people who, even though only a part of your life for a brief time, stays with you forever...."Ride, Sally, Ride."

My Friend Cinderella

Brynn has started greeting ladies at the mall, the grocery store, and pretty much anyone we meet with "My name is Brynn...do you know my friend Cinderella?"

It's funny, but most of them just kind of look at her, head tilted to the side, and don't respond - really, it's a simple question, but I think many adults just forget how to engage in imaginative conversation with a 2 1/2, almost 3-year old...it's kind of sad in a way...

Anyway, she loves her Cinderella - the stories, the movies (yes...there are at least 2 sequels to the original), and dolls - I really hope she loves the real-life Cinderella just as much when we meet her at Disneyland in a few weeks! She can be unpredictable, though, and I would not be surprised in the least if she either ran away screaming or hit the poor princess!

Anticipation

So we let the cat out of the bag and told the kiddos we are planning a trip to Disneyland - although it's not that far away, each morning we are greeted with an enthusiastic "Is today the day we are going to Disneyland?" The daily inquisition borders on being very cute and very frustrating - what was I thinking!?!?!?

The "Target on Oracle & Roger"

I don't like "The Target on Oracle & Roger" - it's the worst (and oldest) Target store in the entire city of Tucson, and each time I go there it is such a monumental disappointment.

I try time and time again to avoid going there, but somehow, that place always ends up being closest when I'm in need of a Target (and if you know me, that is often - at least three times a week!). The place just sucks you in and then succeeds at ruining the whole Target experience everytime!

If you live in Tucson , please, take my advice and avoid "The Target on Oracle & Roger" - you'll thank me for it one day!

White Clothes

Why is it that I have an aversion to folding the "white" load of laundry? We don't even have the dreaded whitey-tightey chonies in our household, but this group of laundry just drives me crazy! It is not uncommon for them to sit in the laundry basket all week long...just waiting for that silly laundry fairy to show up!