I thought this would be more like having a cat.

A Berry Happy Birthday--To You! (Too much Strawberry Shortcake!)

So many birthdays!

Erik's birthday is today--so although you like to stay incognito on my blog, tough titties baby! Here are 32 things ('cause, duh, he's 32) you may or may not know about my spouse.

1. He hates hates hates eggs. Really. With a burning passion. Even the IDEA of deviled eggs makes him gag. If Sophie wants him to eat something and he balks, she says, "But there's no debbled eggs in it Dad!"
2. He was an amazing radio DJ in college, as well as an amazing professional radio DJ for a couple years before and after we got married. In fact, he won a broadcaster of the year award, but we spaced the banquet because we didn't know it was in his honor. (Remember that time we did it on the desk at KBRE honey? GT.)
3. He loves his children with great, great, intensity.
4. He has apocalyptic nightmares several times a week.
5. He loves Dune. (I, however, do not.)
6. He never looks at other women--at least in my presence. Doesn't even mention who's hot in Hollywood when we're hanging out with friends. (I, however, do.)
7. He broke both arms in grade school. (They were playing Star Wars. He was standing on the jungle gym. When he was "shot" he flung himself backward, falling through the jungle gym.)
8. His 2 culinary specialties are fajitas and English muffin pizzas.
9. He loves wine spritzers.
10. He runs like, a million miles a day. Really, like 7 or 8.
11. He loves to play Madden football and some boxing game on the PS2.
12. Lately, he's into Entourage.
13. He loves gravy. Loves it.
14. He talks about fixing computers in his sleep.
15. He's dynamite in the sack.
16. He sometimes asks me if his pants make his head look to small. (Sorry babe. Had to mention it.)
17. He gives me a run for my money at Scrabble, even occasionally winning.
18. He travels hundreds of miles, literally, every week in order to be a father to his son/my stepson.
19. He has the most delicious shoulders I have ever seen.
20. He has now performed 3 karaoke numbers, IN PUBLIC. (Anarchy in the UK, Hit Me Baby One More Time, and You Give Love a Bad Name)
21. He's a Frisbee thrower extrordinaire.
22. He never puts his laundry away, but has a complex system of moving it among, like, 7 laundry baskets.
23. Although I refuse to do his laundry, he often will wash a load for me.
24. He often washes my hair for me.
25. He LOVES cartoons. In fact, when I was about 8 months pregnant, and asked him how he really felt about the fact that he was about to have a daughter, his answer was, "Well, we'll probably have to watch a lot of girl cartoons."
26. He gets down on the floor and really plays with Sophie, and the other kids in our life.
27. The only way he'll eat corn is on the cob. Period.
28. About this time of year, he starts helping with the dishes at my Mom's house (more than usual. That is, he always helps, but begins now to go the extra mile) because he's "saving up" for Thanksgiving--so he can eat and then sit on the couch and watch football without feeling guilty.
29. He's a gifted writer, particularly of fiction.
30. He brushes his teeth with Sophie's Barbie electric toothbrush.
31. His favorite clothes are full of holes.
32. He has a constellation of moles on his right forearm that look just like a puppy paw print.

Now then, on to Kodi. I totally totally forgot Kod's birthday which was like, 3 days ago. Add to that, I don't even know exactly how old she is. So in honor of Kodi, who I love like a sister, who I could not live without, who is one of the only people who I feel comfortable hanging out with in my messy house with no bra, here is my absolute favorite Kodi story.

In the LDS church, you're baptized at 8. After that--you have to stay sin-free (or repent like a mad man) to get into the highest level of heaven. So, sweet Kodi, on the night before her 8th birthday, figured she'd better get her major sinning out of the way. She pondered for a while, and then hit on the perfect, most sinful activity an almost 8 year old could engage in. She sneaked into the neighbor's yard and jumped naked on their trampoline. Yes!

So Happy Birthday to both of you.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I love how Soph can get so excited about something so seemingly insignificant. A box of Backyardigan bandaids, her first maccaroon, a bottle of apple juice in the shape of, jump-back, an actual apple!

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
We went to the dentist to start having her cavities (that's right--plural) filled. Fuck, dude. What a tortuous nightmare. Long story short, we're going to have to take her to the pediadontist and have the rest of them done while she's asleep. Nightmare.

RIP Kenmore

It took me a long time to finally let go. I've been clinging for months to the idea that it might get better. But today, I finally had to face up to the truth.

My dishwasher is dead.

Even my usual process of spinning around three times, saying the proper incantation, propping up the open door with my shin while gingerly loading the glasses in the broken top rack, praying it won't all fall to pieces has stopped working. It is officially twice as much work to load the dishes as to just wash them by hand. I surrender.

I LOVE my dishwasher. I put everything in it: light fixtures, plastic toys, storage bins. If it fits in there and needs washed, in it goes. But now, sigh, my dishwasher is dead.

So I climbed up on the counter and peeled my dish drainer off of the top of the cabinets, hosed it down (literally), and hand washed this morning's dishes. I'm seriously going to have to institute a one glass rule--every one gets one glass per day, and that's it. I swear it seems like Erik and Soph are in a contest to see who can have the most drinks from the most glasses.

I HATE doing the dishes. As far as household chores, it's the one I hate the most. Well, I really hate scrubbing the bath tub--but that's not an every day thing. In fact, it's embarrassing to tell you how often I do clean the bath tub, so I won't. Sweeping I hate, but mostly because I have to move all the rugs and can never find the dust pan. Vacuuming hurts my back so I can pawn that one off on Erik pretty easily. Laundry isn't TOO bad. I just hate lugging it up and down the stairs. Folding laundry is a nice excuse to watch trash TV without guilt. But dishes. Fuck dude. No TV. Smelly. My shirt gets wet. Soph always gets in some kind of trouble. Dishes also have such a time table. Skip for a day or two, and you're completely fucked.

My mom and dad made us start doing dishes at age 8. By the time all 3 "big" kids (sorry Katy) were 8, we had the dishes broken into 3 jobs. Clearing, rinsing, and loading. Clearing was the job we all wanted, and we were supposed to rotate, but somehow, my little brother Jon always ended up with that sweet job. He'd clear the table, one fucking fork at a time, keeping Mandy and I waiting until we'd just go and do it for him. The clearer was also in charge of counter wiping, but as that little fucker is in possession of a wiener, he never did that either. (Sorry, but really, most men just don't wipe off the counters. I'm sure all you metrosexuals do, but really, you're the exception.) Rinsing was the worst job, as it involved actual scrubbing and water. Plus, I think my mom mostly looked at the dishwasher as a sterilizer, and she insisted that the dishes that were loaded into it were basically clean already. Loading was ok, but you always ended up being the last one out of the kitchen, so that kind of sucked.

So--now I'm dishwasherless. Pity me.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Having chocolate milk available to put in my coffee

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Whining. And whining. And whining some more.

Home Again, Home Again

Ok. Blogger sucks, as usual, and I can't get all the photos I want to download. So--here are a bunch, and I'll compose a second post to finish things up.

So--the Albuquerque trip.

I've already covered Wednesday and Thursday, travel day and zoo day, respectively. So, on to...

Friday was Madeline's birthday. I should say, Friday was Madeline's birthday EXTRAVAGANZA! After a night of swapping Zack's bed and the air mattress several times, Soph and I woke up feeling about as tired as we did when we went to bed, a process that was to be repeated pretty much daily during our trip. Madeline was very sweet, and like most birthday kids, didn't allow the slightest opportunity to pass without reminding friends, family, and strangers that it was her birthday.

We mobilized the kids and hit the road at about 10:00, destination: Build a Bear. We were there early enough to avoid a huge line. If you're not familiar with the build-a-bear process the kid picks a stuffed animal skin, then helps an employee stuff it, inserting a heart and some kind of annoying sound, if they want to. Then they give the animal an air bath, choose some expensive stuffed animal clothes to dress it in, use a computer to name the animal and print a birth certificate, and then, take the build-a-bear oath. It breaks down to about a 45 minute process that costs about 40 smacks per kid. Soph chose a rabbit, dressed it in a Sleeping Beauty dress, and named it, what else, Aurora. (She later decided that the dress was too scratchy, took it off, and renamed the naked bunny "Vanilla Icing.") Zach built a darling surfer monkey, and Madeline built a pink birthday bear that sported a denim mini-skirt. Sweet.

After Build-a-Bear we let the kids ride the Carousel at the mall. This was a huge treat, and a chance for the moms and grandma to sit down.

From Build-a-Bear, we loaded the kids in the van and headed for the Mecca of 7 year old birthday parties everywhere, you guesses it, Chuck E. Cheese. Actually, it wasn't as painful as one would think. The place was surprisingly clean, and the rides and games were only 25 cents each.

However, here at Chuckey's, I began to loose my cool. It all started with a popsicle. Those bastards have a fancy popsicle machine right at the exit. When it was time to go, Soph spotted it, of course. Because it was a party day, she had pretty much been getting whatever she wanted. So, when she asked for a popsicle, I kind of absentmindedly said sure, kind of forgetting that we were going to be eating cake and ice cream in 20 minutes. Of course, in a group of three kids, one can't have a popsicle without the other 2 getting one So, I bought popsicles all around. In my imagination, Mandy was pretty annoyed with me for doing this. Disapproval of any kind kind of throws me for a loop. I spent much of the rest of the afternoon imagining that I was a terrible mother and aunty and that the popsicles had ruined the day. Dur.

Cut to the next morning. Mand had a long day of yoga, and grandma and I were taking the kids out on the town. Again, in my imagination, I was fucking up the plans--getting in the way, and generally not following the program that I somehow couldn't figure out. My paranoia snowballed until I was sure Mandy wanted me to get a hotel and take myself and my rowdy daughter the hell out of her house. Matters weren't helped by the fact that the kids were all pretty rotten, and that my mom was entertaining, I think, similar feelings to mine.

By the time we got home, having gotten lost for a while thanks to my navigation error, I was hosting my first, I think, official migrane. Lights flashing, nauseaa, and pounding, pounding pain. My sweet mom decided I needed some distance and alone time, and as soon as Mand came in the door, left to find me a hotel room. Sigh. Left alone with Mandy, I totally came unglued, spilling my guts, telling her how I felt totally in the way, like I was doing "something" wrong, etc. I don't think she'll mind my sharing her response. See, in HER imagination, I was still mad at her for leaving me, moving to Albuquerque in the first place. She felt guilty for being happy. For being happy without me. This lead to her putting distance between us, because she felt like she was betraying our friendship, our sistership, with her happiness. So--tears, hugs, and then mom arriving back with the hotel key.

I decided to go ahead and stay at the hotel for the night, which I think was a good decision. Soph and I watched Ice Age 2 together, and both slept in a real bed, which was a good thing.

Sunday was a down time day for everyone. Mom had a long nap at Mandy's while the sisters and their kids took the kids to the hotel pool. It was small, but we had it to ourselves, and it was very nice. Later we made a trip to Whole Foods to procure dinner fixins. Sigh. Cedar City has lovely things about it, but good shopping is NOT one of them. I'll be shopping at Whole Foods in my dreams. Dinner was roasted veggies on focaccia with goat cheese. Can you say yummy? I'm going to recreate that meal soon. We also played some Disney Princess Monopoly with Zack and Madeline after Soph went to bed. Zack rolled the dice for everyone, chanting "Sugar pop, sugar pop, give me a sugar pop," each time before giving the dice a roll.

Continued Below.

Jiggity Jig

Where did I leave off? Sunday? My mom stayed at the hotel on Sunday night, which was good, because she'd been sleeping on the couch for 4 nights. Monday was mellow. A little more swimming for the kids, a trip to Target. The highlight of Monday, and maybe the trip, for me anyway, was going to a yoga class with Mandy that evening. Not only was the class great, but I got to visit the space and people that have become so important to Mandy, and by default, are important to me.

By Tuesday morning, Sophie was absolutely exhausted. She woke up tired and grumpy, and grumped her way through the rest of the day. We flew out at noon, and changed planes once. I ended up carrying all 50+ pounds of her through 3 airports. Luckily, she slept on both flights. When we arrived in Vegas, I rented a luggage cart, ignored the warning signs, and let her ride for a while. Then we got lost in Vegas for a while, then we came home.

The End.

Explora Kids Science Museum (Experiments in Extreme Blowdrying and Bubble Making)

The vacation is going, well, ok. Yesterday, frankly, was a bit of a cluster fuck. I spent a lot of the day in tears, with a raging nauseous headache. Just my usual of trying to feel other people's feelings for them and/or with them, and getting my feelings hurt by inventing other people's feelings in my head. Dur.

Luckily, I've come far enough to be at least honest about it, and think I resolved most of the shit last night. I'll post about this abstract crap in more detail once I have a little perspective on it.

Today's best thing about being a mom:

Swimming together--her wet little cheek pressed against mine doing mermaid spins in the water.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:

Taking my personal shit out on her, then realizing I've been taking my personal shit out on her, then feeling absolutely terrible about it.

What a Zoo!

zoo 008 Originally uploaded by missuzj.

All Aboard the Zoo Train

zoo 015
Originally uploaded by missuzj.

Seals and Sea Lions

zoo 014
Originally uploaded by missuzj.

Day 2

So, we just returned from the zoo which was 60% awesome, 30% hot, and 10% smelly.

We were very wise, and rented a wagon to haul the kids around in, although I did end up with Sophie on my shoulders for a while. The Albuquerque zoo is very lovely, with lots of trees and shade and such, but the bottom line is that it's July in the desert and no amount of cottonwoods can change that.

If I were to guess, I'd say that Zack's favorite part of the zoo was pulling the wagon. His least favorite part was the peacock that got quite cheeky during lunch. I'm thinking Madeline's favorite thing was/were? the chocolate Dippin' Dots we had on the way out. Her least favorite part was waiting for said dots until the end of the trip. As for Soph, she got quite a charge out of the train ride, and out of watching the seals swim. Her least favorite part is a tie between the heat and the smell. That girl has the most sensitive nose, which she does not plug when smelling an offensive smell, but rather shoves a finger up each nostril and whines/yells, "Mom! Get that smell out of my nose!"

Last night was a sleeping nightmare. I think ultimately Soph ended up sleeping in 5 different beds. She started out in Madelines as Madeline wanted to sleep in the princess blow-up bed that we brought. That lasted about 10 minutes, the amount of time it took Maddy to change her mind. Then Soph tried the princess bed. No dice. So I tried Mandy's bed with me, then Grandma lying next to her. Nope. Finally we moved sweet Zacky-roo from his bed to his mom's, and I put Soph in his bed. Success, but it left me on the floor in Zack's room, as I am far to big for the princess bed. I rolled around on the floor for an hour or so, and then hunted up all the blankets I could, made a little nest, and put Soph in it. I managed to get a few hours of sleep in Zack's bed, but they were restless. One iced macciato and 2 Pepsi's later, I'm still only quasi awake.

Currently Zack is vaccuming with the toy vaccum (the one he LOVES that he got from Soph who received it from Kodi for her birthday and was scared to death of) and Soph and Madeline are playing babies. I am shirking my motherly duities, and Mand and Mom are visiting. Guess I'd better go join in the fun.

Safe!

We made it.

The trip was basically uneventful, but there were a few moments. First of all, our flight was canceled. We were switched to a new flight--15 minutes earlier, actually--but had to stand in the ticket line rather than self check, which, of course, sucked.

Then, we had to run for the plane because of Vegas traffic, me holding my 50+ pound daughter and her carry on fully-mobile-Sophie-unit. (Purple sparkly Disney princess backpack with wheels and a pully handle thingy.)

After boarding, however, everything went swimmingly. Soph totally took take-off in stride. She was looking out the window, turned to me, and said, "Wow! Riviting!" I shit you not.

It's time for dinner, so must go. More manana.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Hearing strangers in the airport whispering about how cute Soph is

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Hearing her announcement on getting out of Mand's car: "I'm going to teach these guys how to play NAKED!"

Albuquerque here we come!

I hate packing for trips. I can never decide whether to go the kitchen sink rout or the take only what's necessary rout. So, I've procrastinated worse than usual, and am still not done getting ready for Soph's first long vacation. It's also her first trip on an airplane, so there's a bit of anxiety there, too.

Exciting plans for our stay include a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, the zoo, and many other kid friendly attractions. I just hope I can squeeze in a cocktail or two without pissing off my mother. What's that you say? I'm 30? Well, fuck you.

So--we drive to Vegas in the morning--6:30 p.m. to be precise. The flight leaves at 10ish, and arrives in ABQ, well, sometime. My mom has the tickets, so I don't exactly know.

Someone remind my husband to water my flowers and return the movies--kay? (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was fun fun. Nanny McPhee was too, although Colin never so much as jumped in a pond or loosened his sweaty cravat. Drat.)

Today's best thing about being a mom:
No specifics today. I just love my girl.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Took her to the beauty college for a trim today. The girl totally butchered Sophie's hair. It was bad. So I hurried to my salon (that I go to twice a year) to have someone fix it. Friends, it is SHORT. Way short. Too short. But--I guess it will grow. Sigh.

Voila!

Step one: Wash and dry your favorite shapeless baggy thrift store jumper with a lipstick. Step two: Spray and wash and soak several times, failing to remove lipstick spots. Step three: Say, "Fuck this shit!" Step four: Fill the pen to the Aquadoodle with bleach. Step five: Disguise lipstick spots by drawing, badly, assorted butterflies and flowers all over said jumper. Step six: Photograph and post.

Life, the Universe, and Everything

Ever try to explain geological time to a 3 year old?

Soph, like many preschoolers, digs the dinosaurs. We've talked in the past about how dinosaurs are not around anymore--how they were alive a long long time ago. Of course, to a 3 year old, a long long time is how long ago Christmas was.

So--we were looking at a dinosaur book that had some pictures of dinosaur bones in a museum. Also of note, we took Sophie and Janzen to the dinosaur museum a few months ago. Soph began to explain to me how the dinosaurs all died in museums (convenient--eh) and then the people took their skin off and their guts out and hung them up with ropes. She was very confident that she had figured the whole dinosaur thing out.

I tried to explain to her that the dinosaurs lived a REALLY long time ago. Before Disneyland. Before cars. Before people even. She didn't buy that for a minute. Before people? Whatever mom. I'll stick with the dinosaur skin peeling thanks. You're nuts.

Kind of tricky. The origins of life on the planet and the universe and everything. I guess I could have told her God did it, but I have a feeling she would have found that as ridiculous as the "before people" bit.

I've decided that folks began religions and mythologies because they needed something to say when their kids asked them questions. "Mom, why are their wieners?" "Mom, when will I be big?" "Mom, who made words?" I need a better answer than--"Umm."

Kung Foo Cowboy

A few questions Soph has asked me over the last couple of days:

While eating lunch at the Hunan today, and a group of cowboy hat clad burlyish guys walked in:
"Mom? Are they having a Chinese hoe-down?"

While playing My Little Ponies with me yesterday:
"Mom? Do My Little Ponies poop colorful poop?"

After performing a bellyflop--directly onto my belly:
"If you mind if I join you?"

She has started to preface a lot of her questions with "If you mind if...," as in, "If you mind if I get on the counter?" and "If you mind if I get out my Barbies." I'm not sure exactly where this little syntactical glitch stems from, but it is a little cute.

In other news, I put a load of my favorite clothes in the wash (read--the ones that fit) along with my mocha brown lipstick. The damage is irreparable. I've sprayed and washed and soaked and blotted and scrubbed. This doesn't bode well for my trip to Albuquerque in 5 days. S0--that sucked.

Also--the renaissance fair is in town, and Soph has suckered me out of about 20 bucks worth of tickets for the huge blow up slide thing. She loves it with a boingy bouncy passion that cannot be denied. So much so that I'm looking into renting it for her birthday. Which is coming up pretty soon, actually. Less than a month. I may cave and get her the floam. I may double cave and also get her an easy bake oven. Spoiled little shit.

Janzen is back up at his mom's house, and while I miss him, it's also nice to not feel like I need to come up with fun things to do everyday. In fact, today I'm pretty much not going to do shit. Soph and Bianca dragged all of the doll stuff into the front room, and I'm hiding out in my room. When I was a kid, my mom had days where she would say, "Unless someone's bleeding or dead I don't want to hear about it." This is kind of one of those days.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
While we were at lunch, she kept wanting to do that Lady and the Tramp thing with her lo mein noodles--both start at one end and meet in the middle. It did get old after a while, but was fun to start with.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
While I was leaning across the table to cut up her chicken, I put my boobs smack in my plate--bright red sweet and sour sauce. Good thing I have a new bottle of spray and wash.

Yesterday

Whew. Yesterday was busy. Took the kids to Cedar Breaks National Monument--just about 20 minutes "up the mountain." It was grayish, but the wildflowers were spectacular, and they both had fun. We drove home in a thunderstorm, and made peanut butter and honey cookies, then did a little puddle jumping.

Today Soph has been tormenting Janzen's friend who's over by calling him a "Bonny wee lassie" over and over and over again.

Pics and Haiku follow.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Watching Janzen look out for and take care of his little sis

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Trying to watch a movie, albeit a very stupid one that I'm too embarrassed to even name, and having her climb all over me, lick me, kiss me, pinch me, draw on me, and try about every trick in the book to shift my attention from the movie to her.