Swinging on a Star

Under the Big Top

2011-09-17T15:13:00.001-04:00

Maya turned two and I, being crazy, decided to throw an over the top carnival circus themed birthday party complete with animal cupcakes, games, a candy table and multiple buntings. The fact that I even know what a bunting is just further confirms my craziness. Don't worry, by the end of this post you'll know what a bunting is too, so you can share in my craziness. I designed, printed, mailed, sewed, decorated, baked, ordered, assembled, inflated, planned, and frosted for months and was finally ready. The guests arrived and about 15 minutes later so did the thunderstorm. We were packed like sardines in our decked out Florida room, watching the skies turn black and hoping like hell that we weren't going to lose power or that the bounce house wasn't going to blow to Oz. A few hours later, after my house was covered in a sticky candy coating, things mellowed out a bit and the kids were able to bounce for awhile. It was fine, but not the Martha Stewartesque soiree I was envisioning, cause I'm pretty sure it never rains on Martha's parade.

See the bunting?

Before the storm

This marks the second year in a row that my Indian Summer baby's birthday party has been thwarted by crap weather. I totally love that all the prep and work got over shadowed by mother nature--again. Totally. Next year, I'll go all low key and then it will be perfect weather, I just know it. Or maybe by then I'll convince Husband to move to Maui where its always 75 and sunny.

Dude, I Smell

2011-04-15T21:18:00.003-04:00

Did you know that smearing aluminum on your body everyday can lead to Alzheimer's? Uh-huh, sure does. Why would one do such an asinine thing, you ask? Well, I'd be willing to bet that unless you are one of my Crunchy Ann Arbor Type Friends, you most likely smeared aluminum-laden Secret or Degree or whathaveyou on your pits just this morning, and are therefore increasing the probability that you're gonna end up losing your memory marbles sometime in the not so far off future. Doesn't that make you want to run to your medicine cabinet right this very minute and throw your deodorant in the f-ing trash? Well, before you swear off the evil stuff altogether, heed this warning: you will smell. Bad. You'll have Bo like you've never had before. You'll try Tom's Natural. Some magic crystal stuff that you have to lick prior to application. Straight up baking soda. Baby powder. Extra perfume. You'll finally realize that it's the Antiperspirant that has the memory sucking stuff, so you switch to plain deodorant, which they only make for men, by the way, because there is no way in hell that a woman should ever ever perspire. So you'll be elated that you've found the solution, even though you walk around smelling like Old Spice. This'll work...for awhile. But then, you'll be right in the middle of an indoor soccer game and you'll realize that Bo is definitely back--with a vengeance. Oh, just a fluke, you'll think. An extra hard game with no subs. But then the next day you're at work and you catch another whiff of Bo. You quickly slip your hand up your shirt sleeve and brush your fingers against your pit ala Mary Katherine Gallagher and sure enough, you smell like stank Bo mixed in with a tinge of Old Spice. So then you'll have a decision to make. Smell all pretty and end up with Alzheimer's or walk around smelling like a barefoot, homemade clothes wearing, dreadlocked Phish fan who lives in a TransVan all day. I'll chose the later. But dude, I smell.

Balance

2011-03-09T17:23:00.005-05:00

Last fall, I took Lily to Disney's Princesses on Ice, and ever since she's been begging to go skating. Well, with Husband *finally* done with his frequent, very long trips to the Great White Tundra, we decided to go to open skate at a local rink last weekend. Pete got to skate with Lily and I (lucky me) got to be on chase-Maya-around-the-arena-duty. As Pete and Lily sat down to put on their skates, he explained to her that it would be difficult to stand on the slim blades of her skates and that she'd have to learn to balance. It might be hard and you might fall down and that's okay, I told her, fully expecting a fall followed by a fit. Well, as soon as her helmet was on and her skates were velcro strapped to her feet, she stood up and started running around the lobby on those two freshly sharpened, shiny, silver blades. Pete and I looked at each other with Holy S*** eyes.

Her first trip around the rink she used what looked like a blue, plastic, kid-sized walker. She tried to balance holding the blue thing, push off on her toe picks, and stay on her feet while Pete was hunched over her, making sure she didn't completely bite it. It was slow going, for sure. When they finally turned the corner I figured there was a 50/50 chance she'd either be loving it or hating it. As soon as I saw her face I knew she was totally digging it. With each lap she got braver and braver, and by the end of the session (including a very messy Cheeto eating snack break) she progressed from barely being able to push the blue chair around to tearing away from Pete without holding anything at all. She found her balance.

Balance tends to be pretty elusive--especially when it comes to parenting. There is a thin line between holding our kids up and pushing them around the rink, or letting them race off on their own, knowing full well they could trip and take a serious beating on the completely unforgiving ice. I think the best thing we can do is give them a helmet. A tool to keep them safe, while still allowing them to go off and do it on their own. The helmet can be the skills to stand up for themselves if another kid snatches their Vanilla Milk at the lunch table, or to work it out if their Bestie won't take turns with her favorite Princess dress. Or it can be helping them to develop an authentic sense of self-esteem that isn't filled with meaningless praise (Wow, you are the best teeth brusher in the world!!). It can be allowing them to learn the natural consequences of their actions--like not wiping really really well leads to poopy stink-butt, or putting the empty blow up pool too close to the grill leads to a melted blow up pool (ooops, that was Husband, not the girls.) Balance is tough. Just when you think you've got it, you suddenly find yourself skidding across the ice on your stomach, hands scraped and frozen. But that's when you pick yourself up, brush off the frost, adjust your helmet, and push off on that toe pick yet again.

Drinking the Kool-Aid

2011-02-23T21:15:00.009-05:00

So I'll admit, I used to think people who loved all things Disney were a bit, well, ...Freakish. Kinda like immature or childish, or permanently living in Never Never Land. Or snorting fairy dust. Or so cheesy I'd throw up a little in my mouth when told about the entire Disney themed Christmas tree that was in their living room at home. Or how they were going to Thehappiestplaceonearth for the 5th time in three years. It got to the point where there were permanent grooves inside my lids from all the rolling that was going on whenever I heard the D word dropped at the lunch table. And I don't mean douche. Although I roll my eyes whenever anyone uses that nast-ass word, too. I was such a Disney virgin (having only spent one day at the Magic Kingdom when I was 11) that I truly believed that all of Epcot was in the giant golf ball.

Now, Lily is a Princess Fiend, so when I convinced Husband to go down to Florida for Christmas last December (like Christmas would be in a different month, but whatever. Actually, now that I think about it Eastern Orthodox Christmas is in January so there.), and being the amazingly awesome Mommy that I am, I started to ponder a day trip to the Magic Kingdom to fulfill my little girl's dreams. Papa's condo is a mere 2 hour drive from The World, so the plan was that we'd wake up at the butt crack, drive to Disney, spend the day, and drive back to the condo. Good. Great. Low key Disney, baby. Just one small sip can't hurt, I told myself.

Then in August I decided to tell my two friends about my plans. One is a Disney Freak and the other, I quickly discovered, was a closet Disney Freak. "Oh, no, you'll be too tired to drive back that night!" and "You'll be surprised how cheap the Value Resorts are!" and "Oh, are you going to do a Character Meal?" and "OMG, OMG, I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about Lily meeting the princesses!". Two hours and $300 worth of charges on ye ole credit card later, I had booked a night at the All Star Movies resort and scored 8:05 b'fast ressies at Cinderella's Royal Table. My low key Disney just got upgraded to medium key Disney. Just a swig now and then won't be a problem.

Over the next few months I found myself typing www dot disboards dot com into my google chrome with alarming frequency. It was as if my fingers were possessed. I created a user name, posted my first querry. Began to wonder if I should make an ADR for dinner at TTS so I could be sure we'd have a good view of the ELP. I made sure that Cinderella knew our address so that she could invite Lily (via handwritten note discovered in the toe of her Christmas stocking) to her castle for breakfast. Read up on Fast Passes, Park-Hopper Passes, and Photo Passes. Plotted and planned our Magical Day at the MK. Bought Lily an autograph book and a new Cinderella costume and both girls Minnie plush. I'm not, drunk, occifer, really! It was just a drink with dinner!

Finally, at long last, our Magical Day arrived. We did, indeed, wake at the butt crack and sped along the Turnpike to Kissimmee (WDW is not actually in Orlando, for those of you not "in the know"). We pulled up in the parking lot, grabbed the girls, the stroller, the changes of clothes, the sunblock, the diaper bag, the camera and made it just in time for the Rope Drop. Ran to the Monorail, rode to the park, and walked down Main Street all decked out in Christmas splendor. And then...The Castle. I think we must have taken over a hundred pictures of that thing in less than 24 hours. The rest of the day was a blur of Princesses, pricey souvenir shops, small worlds, flying elephants, spinning teacups, stroller naps, high fives after scurrying in line just before the CM closed the queue for Jasmine, magic carpets, Means, mice, parades, autographs scribbled by plush hands, lines, spaghetti and meatballs a la Lady and the Tramp, impossibly long hair, embroidered ears, explosions in the sky and just.plain.fun. And it didn't end there. The next morning we scampered off to the Grand Floridian to dine with Alice, Mary, Winnie and friends, breathed in the yummy gingerbread, and hung out Downtown (Disney of course). It was...well... Magical. Woooowhooo! The room's spinning! I love you, man! Glug, glug, glug.

Since our return from WDW I've been trying in vain to re-create some of the magic by immersing myself in scrapbooking, Disney movies, and secretly planning our next trip. Last week I made over 50 phone calls to a local radio station to try to qualify for a vacation on the newest cruise ship the Disney Dream!. I got through once. I wasn't the 96th caller. My Husband and sister confronted me and told me that I'm obsessed with Disney. Pete even updated his facebook status about how I liked Disney more than Lily. I seriously considered buying Lily and Maya an electric Monorail set to surround our tree next Christmas, complete with replicas of the Polynesian and Contemporary resorts. Quick, hide the packet, the wooden spoon, and the Big Smiley Pitcher! No that's not a red mousetache, I mean, mustache baby. My lip is just chapped from the wind blowing across the cold winter tundra that is my life.

I've been getting slightly better and have been working the steps towards a Disney recovery program. I'm on step one...write a hilarious blog post admitting that I'm a crazy whacked out Disney Freak that will inspire all of my loyal followers to come out of hiding and comment on how frakking funny I am, and how they still cherish me and our friendship even though I drink the Disney Kool-Aid and I freaking love it. My name is Katie and I'm a Disney Freak. There. I feel better now.Gimmie another, bartender!

Revival

2011-02-19T08:41:00.007-05:00

Recently I've discovered a blog that has had me absolutely riveted. She's honest, crafty, talented, and one hell of a mama, and has inspired me to revive my blog. Here goes...

Stir Crazy

There are few things that lose their luster as quickly as Winter in Michigan. I love winter up until the day I return to school from winter break in January. I love the Christmas presents, Christmas trees, Christmas movies, Christmas music, Christmas cookies, Christmas lights...okay,okay, really anything Christmas. I love peeking out the bedroom window as the sun rises to see a fresh blanket of white snow has fallen during the night, stirring dark hot chocolate made with Maya's whole milk in a pan on the stove, bundling up and walking over to the sledding hill behind our house with Pete and the girls, baking cherry scones with real butter, and building "snowgirls" as Lily calls them.

But as I remove the thumbtack on my calendar and turn the page from January to February, and the fresh, white, snow has become a dirty pile of nast, and we have our tenth day in a row of sub-zero temperatures, I begin to get over my love for winter. Quickly.

Valentine's Day offers the last bright spot in an otherwise dreary cold tundra of winter's existence. This year, Daddy had to go to the really cold tundra, so I picked up some cupcakes from a local bakery as a treat for the girls. They were a hit.

Happy Valentine's Day

As I type, the sun is shining, the dirty nast snow is melting away, and spring is in the air. As a lifelong Michigander, I know better than to believe that Winter is gone for good.

But at least it's finally gathering up it's belongings, putting on it's coat, and heading for the door.

Then and now...

2010-07-21T16:36:00.003-04:00

Me in my favorite blue dress in 1981.

Lily in the dress 29 years later!

4th of July

2010-07-04T17:27:00.000-04:00

The girls had fun at our neighborhood parade (complete with decked out bikes and a police and firetruck escort), picnic, swimming at Didu's and LO-Town fireworks for the 4th. I made sure I purchased matching dresses in red, white and blue glory. I think I swore at one point that I'd never subject my children to matching outfits. I lied.

Baby Proofing

2010-06-22T22:13:00.005-04:00

So we moved into this house when Lily was 18 months old. We put a cabinet lock under the sink, gated the stairs, switched the outlet covers and called it good. Now that Maya is on the move we're realizing that we should probably do a bit more in the baby proofing department. Case in point...I was about to leave for soccer, gave Husband a kiss and said, "Watch out for the step down into the laundry room because Maya could take a header off of it. You should keep the door shut." Um, yeah. Sure enough, I came home and Husband explained that Maya took a header off the step. She's obsessed with cords, loves biting the edge of the wooden coffee table, thinks the door stopper is the bee's knees, bangs on the lamp bases and pretty much wants to eat every one of Lily's toys, while ignoring her own. Since she's been born I've been bragging to all my work friends about how easy she is (except the sleeping bit) and now I have the feeling that its all about to change. Suddenly she's quite the handful. Add that to the 3.5 year old who will most likely win a Golden Globe for best actress in a drama, and I'm pretty much thinking my life is going to be anything but easy--at least for the next 18 years. Oh well, at least they are cute.

Pearlie Girls

2010-05-29T22:24:00.004-04:00

Time for my once a month mommy brag update on all things Lily and Maya.

Maya is 8 months old and finally likes eating something other than mama milk. She's mastered going from tummy to sitting, says Mama, claps on command, waves on command, crawls backwards, does push-ups, is perfecting her pincher grasp, dances to music, and shakes her head no and thinks its hilarious.

Lily is nearly three and a half, is obsessed with wearing tights,goes from being Alice in Wonderland to Dora numerous times daily, can write her name, had her first music program at school (video coming soon), and laughs hysterically at Skippyjon Jones books. She knows all capital letters and letter sounds, can identify beginning sounds in most words, rhymes like crazy and when given two numbers can tell which one is bigger up to 30 with 100% accuracy. She got that last skill from her Daddy, for sure.

Photos

2010-04-18T20:02:00.005-04:00

So I often wish that I were a photographer. Sometimes I pretend to be one. I scan the house for good light, carefully position one or both of the girls in said light and attempt to take non-blurred beautiful pics with my expensive camera that I don't really know how to use. Every once in awhile I get a couple that make me think I could actually be a photographer. I show them to Husband, who mumbles his approval. I post them on my facebook page or put them on snapfish or maybe even post them here. I've gotten a few comments on my facebook gushing about how great one or two of my pictures are. And then we had our friend who shot our wedding over to take portraits of the girls. Um, yeah. I can assure you all here and now--I am not, I repeat, not a photographer. Bryan Mitchell, however, is an amazing photographer. Here are a few of the pics he shot of the girls last week at our house. They put mine to shame.

You can find Bryan at www.bryanmitchell.com

Half-Year Girl

2010-04-06T18:02:00.003-04:00

Man 6 months goes fast! Maya celebrated her half birthday a few weeks ago and started sitting unpropped, got her first tooth promptly followed by her second tooth, started sleeping on her tummy, had her first bites of food (which she hated), started saying mama and dada, and got up on all fours. Its been quite the month!

5 Months Old

2010-02-17T19:36:00.002-05:00

Maya is 5 months old today and sitting pretty!

Milestones

2010-02-08T22:27:00.007-05:00

The first 4.5 months of Maya's life have flown by. When Lily was born, I remember the first 3 months of her life were the longest of mine. Going from zero to one was life changing. Going from one to two was a change, for sure, but one that felt so much more familiar. With baby number two not only do you know what you're doing, but you have perspective. You know that the hard things don't last forever. Maya is growing up so fast. She's smiling, laughing, "talking" and rolling over. She can sit propped up by her hands and loves to play with Mommy, Daddy, Lily and lots of toys. Since I know what's to come I'm excited about her getting older, but since she'll most likely be our last baby I'm trying to savor her babyhood instead of just getting through the 30 minute nap days and the middle of the night feedings.

Maya Laughing

2010-01-15T18:46:00.000-05:00

Three!

2010-01-10T21:53:00.000-05:00

Well, I have a three year old. Lily had her first kid party at Pump it Up, had a princess cake and a homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and got her first two-wheeler (with training wheels of course)on which she proceeded to zip around the basement at breakneck speed, overcook a corner and fall over. Luckily she was wearing her helmet. She then got right back on her bike and now rides at a snail's pace. A slow snail.

So far three is, um, special. She insists on wearing "ballerina" dresses each morning, and can go from professing her love for me and Husband one second to running away from us, throwing herself on the couch and sobbing fierce hot tears while choking out "Don't talk to me, Mommy!" the next. She is sensitive and strong willed, frustrating and hilarious. She loves princesses, singing, dancing, playing with Maya and pretending. She never ceases to amaze us everyday.

Christmastime!!

2009-12-26T19:43:00.000-05:00

We had a great Christmas this year and luckily didn't have to travel. We actually planned on driving down to Florida for the week between Christmas and NYE, but then decided that would be frakking crazy with a nearly 3 year old and 3 month old. Maybe next year. Lily spent lots of time with beloved Didu, Papa, Kaarin, Auntie Gretch, Uncle Ash, Nana, Ota, and Uncle Andy. Maya got lots of extended family love, too. The highlight for Mommy was a trip by myself to Target the day after Christmas.

Santa Visit!

2009-12-12T21:13:00.002-05:00

Happy Halloween!

2009-11-02T09:46:00.003-05:00

Lily the Good Witch and Maya the Bear!

First Smiles

2009-10-27T11:15:00.003-04:00

There's nothing like those first sweet baby smiles. I remember waiting and waiting for Lily to smile after she was born, but Maya's first smiles really snuck up on me. I have a feeling that this is how it is with baby number two. Things are really flying by. Before we know it, she'll be walking and talking. Since Maya will most likely be our last baby (much to my father-in-law's chagrin) part of me wants to slow things down and keep her small forever, but I'm looking foward to all of her firsts and watching her grow.

Lily's Milk

2009-10-27T11:08:00.002-04:00

Since Maya's been born, I've logged many, many, many hours nursing. Lily finds it fascinating that Maya drinks "Mommy's milk" and has decided that her plethora of baby dolls should be drinking "Lily's milk." I find it fascinating that Lily's milk comes from her belly button and that its milk if Lily drinks milk and water if Lily drinks water. And Daddys don't have milk cause that's so silly. Here's a pic of her nursing Marisol.

Fall in Michigan

2009-10-27T10:49:00.005-04:00

Although I loathe the end of summer (temp drops, shorter days, back to work), I do love fall in Michigan. There's just something about crisp days filled with cider mills, pumpkin patches, farms, and colored leaves that make me happy. So far this fall, I've been on two wagon rides, tromped through two pumpkin patches, picked 4 pumpkins, had two different kinds of cider and doughnuts, and have dressed the girls in their first matching outfits and its not even the end of October!

One Month Old!

2009-10-19T12:41:00.002-04:00

I can't believe littlest is one month old already. I think when Lily was born, that first month was one of the longest of my life. Now that we're old pros at this parenting gig this past month has flown by. Maya is a pretty chill baby who loves her sleep (so far anyway, knock on wood!). Lily loves being a big sister and can't get enough kisses and pats to Maya's head.

Last Night...

2009-09-25T16:53:00.002-04:00

Last night was, um, interesting. Lily didn't nap at preschool yesterday so we knew she'd most likely sleep like crap. Maya is a week old so we knew she'd most likely sleep like crap. When Lily and Maya sleep like crap Husband and I sleep like crap. My night went like this...

7:30 Lily asleep
8:00 Lily awake, pooped in her pull-up
8:15 Lily back asleep
7:30 Maya asleep
9:30 Maya awake
10:00 Maya asleep
11:00 Maya awake
11:30 Lily awake (Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!)
11:45 Lily asleep
12:00 Maya asleep
12:45 Maya awake
12:46 Lily awake (Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!)
12:50 Lily asleep
1:15 Maya asleep
1:45 Lily awake (Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!)(Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!) (Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!)
1:55 Lily asleep
5:00 Maya awake
5:30 Maya asleep
5:45 Maya awake
5:50 Maya asleep
6:15 Maya awake
6:20 Maya asleep
6:45 Lily awake

Soooooo fun (insert eye roll here).

Welcome to the World Maya Gabriella!

2009-09-18T20:37:00.006-04:00

September 17th, 2009, 8:10pm, 9 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches long.

Butts

2009-09-05T12:59:00.004-04:00

So along with potty training comes copious amounts of butt talk. Lily, having been potty trained for a few months, has become more and more interested in not only her own butt, but in Husband's and my butts as well. She talks about her front butt and how it needs to be wiped "down" and her back butt, which needs to be wiped "up". Yesterday she and Husband accompanied me to my OB appointment. After the visit was over, Lily announced she needed to use the potty, so Husband took her in. The nurse and I waited outside, chatting, catching snippets of the conver going on inside the bathroom. Husband cheering for Lily's pee. Lily saying "I wipe DOWN!". Husband saying he has to go pee. Lily announcing loudly, "Daddy! You have a SWINGING BUTT!!!" The nurse and I giggling like two schoolgirls outside the bathroom door.

Dear Woman at the Zoo,

2009-09-01T18:12:00.002-04:00

Yep, you're just so f-ing funny when you flash your huge yellow teeth at me and say "Big lunch?" as I'm walking by you while 37 weeks pregnant. So funny.

Renovations

2009-08-27T18:40:00.004-04:00

WTH is wrong with Husband and me? In the fall of 2006, less than 8 weeks before my due date with Lily, Husband and I renovated our kitchen and installed hardwood floors on the entire first floor of our house. I painted the kitchen walls when I was overdue. I nailed flooring, held up heavy-ass cabinets and grouted glass mosaic tile when I was 9 months preggers. After we were finished (just in time for Lily to be born), we looked at each other and thought "WTF were we thinking??!??".

Fast forward 2.75 years. I'm 3 weeks away from my due date with our second daughter. Guess what I did this week? Cleaned grout from our newly installed glass mosaic tile backsplash in our kitchen (Husband did a fan-freaking-tastic job on the install!), and am watching him pound the last few boards into place in our new kitchen floor. I guess we just never learn. Of course, at least this time we chose a much smaller project, but to make up for it we started only 3 weeks out instead of 8. Oh well, I'm sure the new baby is totally going to love the new kitchen!

Welcome our New Family Member!

2009-08-13T09:41:00.001-04:00

We have a new family member...and no it isn't the baby. Her name is Didi and she's Lily's new imaginary friend. Over the past few weeks, Husband and I have noticed Lily whispering or talking softly to herself. "Who are you talking to?" I asked one day. "Didi," Lily replied. "I told her to sit down. We don't stand up on the couch!". Lily goes back and forth between saying Didi is real or just 'tend, but nearly everything she says to Didi is pretty bossy and sounds strangely familiar. Things like "Hold my hand in the parking lot, Didi! There are cars!" or "Didi its time for night night. I'll sing you one rainbow and two twinkles. No, Didi, just ONE rainbow and TWO twinkles." or "Didi we'll go to the park if you take a good nap!". Well, at least Husband and I know that she's listening when we ask her to do things, even if she appears to be ignoring us.

2.5 Years and 32 Weeks

2009-07-27T17:35:00.003-04:00

Lily and I had a photo shoot done today documenting 32 weeks of pregnancy for me and 2.5 years for Lily!

The Quest for the Perfect Play Cafe

2009-07-15T20:09:00.005-04:00

Trust me, when you become a parent your vocabulary quickly expands with all sorts of new words. Jumperoo, bumbo, bugaboo, moby wrap, robeez...and play cafe. I had never heard the words "play cafe" before having Lily. Shortly after her mid-winter birth two and a half-years ago, however, I was bored, sleep deprived, and seriously jonesing for some cheap out of the house entertainment that was baby/mommy/child friendly. And then another mom started throwing out names like Jungle Java, Urban Toddler, Pump it Up, and Chelsea Tree House. I was intrigued. What are these places? I asked. I soon found out. They were Baby-Mommy havens. They had climbers, bounce houses, play kitchens, dress-up clothes, infant parks, wireless internet, comfy chairs and coffee bars. Now, each of them had some of these wondrous amenities, but none of them had the whole package.

Fast forward a few months, and we move to The Hills and leave our beloved play cafes behind. No matter, I thought. Certainly there would be plenty of play cafes in and around The Hills. Alas, none of my findings over the past 11 months has been even close to perfect. Bounce U is great for Lily, but not so much fun for me. The toddler/preschool play area at the local Jungle Java is tiny and boring for Lily, plus there is a constant stream of big, fast, old kids who infiltrate the little kid area even though the sign clearly says 3 and under. Somerset Mall has no play area, of course, and the one at Great Lakes Crossing is always packed and leaves Lily clinging to my leg instead of running off to play.

But then...last night while chatting with my work friends at book club, one of them mentioned a place that had pretend play areas, ride-on toys, a big, safe climber, an infant park, wireless, good food,coffee and comfy chairs. Kid something...I can't remember the name, she said. Hmmmm...I thought. Sounds too good to be true. When I got home I hopped on my laptop and started googling like crazy, trying to find this elusive new play cafe. Finally I found it. KiddieKlub. Okay, bad name, I thought, searching their website for clues to its level of perfection. The pictures on the website didn't really show all that much. Mostly faces of seemingly happy children without any real shots of the place itself. Well, it could be crap, I thought, but at least we'll go check it out.

I packed up Lily and we were off. Less than 15 minutes later I turned into a shopping center and saw the KiddieKlub sign. I got Lily out of the car and grabbed our stuff. We walked to the door and slowly opened it. Laaaaaaaaaa! It was perfect. Bright and wide open, with a big, but not too big climber, plenty of pretend toy areas, a big infant play space, nice comfy chairs, wireless, a full cafe with good healthy food and yummy coffee drinks. We stayed all morning. Lily happily played on the climber, the slide, rode little bikes, pushed baby dolls in strollers, and looked at books. I parked myself in a centrally located cushy chair and surfed the net. It was lovely. We've already made plans to return next week to our new favorite play cafe, and I know it will become a regular hang out for us after #2 is born and I need a place to take Lily where she can play and I can relax. Hooray for our new, perfect play cafe!

She's All Growns-Up and She's All Growns-Up

2009-07-02T21:26:00.004-04:00

My baby is sleeping for the first night in her big girl bed. I guess that means she's officially a big girl instead of a baby now. I don't even think I can call her a toddler anymore--as she certainly doesn't toddle. Ever. Stands on one foot while she smoothly lifts her other leg, straightens and bends it with perfect balance, yes. But toddles, no.

She won't be 2.5 for another week yet, but in many ways she seems so much older to me. Her play has become richly imaginative, and her attitude and bossiness is much beyond her years. I wonder where she gets that from?

I keep waiting for the day to come when she turns into a terribly difficult child, and maybe when her baby sister is born she will. For now though, I would really like to tilt the hourglass on its side, allowing the sand to rest a bit, since my baby is growing up unbelievably fast.

L is for Lily!

2009-06-22T13:53:00.004-04:00

Potty Training

2009-06-15T09:28:00.004-04:00

Lily and I are now on day three of house arrest. Yep, that's right, we're potty training. We haven't left the house since Friday night. I've actually assisted in the potty training of many children in the past eight years--they just happen to be children with autism. No matter, I thought. I'll just use the same techniques we used with those kiddos with Lily. I've been prepping Lily for about two weeks telling her that when summer came there would be no more diapers. "What happens when summer comes?" I'd ask, expectantly. "No more deepers!" she'd answer excitedly.

Day one we woke up, took off her diaper and put on her underpants. After she had been up for about an hour and a half I took her to the potty. And there we sat. And sat, and sat, and sat. Husband went to the store to get provisions for breakfast. We still sat. Husband returned and made breakfast. We still sat. Breakfast was ready. "Come on and eat before it gets cold!" said Husband. I thought about cold eggs. Yuck. I thought about the fact that Lily hadn't peed in three hours and had been sucking down copious amounts of chocolate milk, juice and ice water. Hmmm...At Husbands urging, Lily and I emerged from the bathroom and went to eat breakfast. Maybe she'll just tell me when she has to go, I thought. Right. Two minutes later she peed in her highchair while happily munching a bagel. I took her to the potty, glaring at Husband. I cleaned her up, changed her underpants and took her back to breakfast. "Lily, when you have to go pee, just tell Mommy or Daddy, okay?" I urged. "Okay!" she replied. Ten minutes later she was still finishing breakfast and peed again in her highchair. "Uh-oh!" she said. "I peed in my highchair!" Yes. Yes you did, I thought, glaring again at Husband. Wash, rinse, repeat. About an hour later, Husband took her to the potty where she peed pretty much on command. For the remainder of day one she had many other successes including a poop (I never thought I'd be so excited about a poop before) and two more accidents. Day two she had one and a half accidents. Here we are on day three and so far she's had zero accidents and two pees and a poop. Wooo-whoo! See how exciting my life has become?

Mommy: The Job

2009-04-22T19:05:00.003-04:00

I played hooky from work today. I'm exhausted, run down, have a headache, and am nearly nineteen weeks pregnant. I work full time and have a two year old. I decided to stay home today when I realized that I have not had a full day to myself for the past two years, three months, one week and five days. That's a lot of time to go without having a single day to your self. When this next little one arrives, I'm sure things are going to get exponentially busier, especially since I'm planning on only taking 6 weeks of maternity leave before returning to work. Yikes.

I've had the pleasure of seeing a few friends go from one child to two. I've read about their sleepless nights, their failed efforts to balance the needs of two little beings, their mounting stress as they realize that they can't possibly do it all. I have a pretty good idea what I'm in for, and it isn't going to be pretty. I'm sure there will be times I'll be asking myself why we decided to have two children. I'm hoping that the times that I question are fewer than the times that I look at their sweet little faces and realize that Mommy: The Job is far more rewarding than a full night's sleep.

Spring!?!?

2009-04-07T12:40:00.002-04:00

So its April in Michigan and I'm on Spring Break. Yesterday we woke up to three inches on snow on the ground. WTF. No matter, I thought. I'm not about to let this crap weather ruin MY vacation plans. So I bundled Lily up, threw her perfect yellow spring dress in a bag and drove over the river and through the woods to the mall to see the Easter Bunny. Having dealt with Somerset Mall's holiday festivities before, I called early in the morning to make sure I wasn't going to get there at 9:30 and not see the HaHa (as Lily calls bunnies) until 4:30. "Nope, you should get right in," said the lady on the phone. Sweet. We got there and after a quick costume change, Lily was in her "Easter" dress, ready to see Hester Fairweather, the bunny herself. She loved it, and was by far the best kid there (if I do say so myself!)

Holy Crap. I have a 2 year old.

2009-02-17T20:20:00.003-05:00

Okay, okay, I've actually had a two year old for over a month now, but Husband has been out of town in the great white tundra for the past 4 out of 5 weeks, so blogging really hasn't been on my priority list lately. But now he's back, and luckily he's shaved his beard, so I have a little more time for updating my neglected blog.

Lily turned two last month, and I really can't believe how quickly the past two years have gone. Granted, there have been times I was certain would never ever ever end. Like when she stopped sleeping at 3 months old, or when she threw more food on the floor than she put in her mouth. Or when she called me dada for months and months. But now here she is, a spunky, lovey little girl who amazes us everyday with complex language, random letter, number, shape and color identification, and a bizarre obsession with Puff the Magic Dragon. She's really into dolls and stuffed animals lately, and is now upstairs sleeping with her entourage of Big Bird, Abby Cadabby, Elmo, Zoe, Mermaid, Marisol and not one but two blankies. Favorite foods are yogurt, bananas, cereal, cereal bars, veggie burgers, berries, sunbutter jelly, and 'roni cheese.

Christmastime is Here, Happiness and Cheer

2009-01-12T19:24:00.006-05:00

Here are some pics from the FIVE Christmases we celebrated this year. Lily had a blast. I needed a vacation from my vacation! And yes, I did add the nose picking pic on purpose.

Santa in The Hills

2008-12-19T09:18:00.004-05:00

Visiting Santa in The Hills isn't like Santa in A2. In A2 you go to Briarwood, stand in line for a few minutes while looking at fake snow and mangy-looking stuffed animals, sit on the worn patch on Santa's knee while a zit-faced teenager takes your picture, get a broken candy cane, and be sent on your way. The grainy picture costs $14.99 and comes with a "sweet" graphic that says "Merry Christmas 2008!" printed across the bottom. Niiiice.

In The Hills, visiting Santa is billed as "An Experience". We arrived at Somerset at 9:30 am Sunday morning and walked up to the castle to make our "Santa Appointment". First available: 4:42 pm. Mind you, this was on December 14th. So we went and did a bit of shopping before going back home.

When we arrived back at The Santa Castle we were greeting to a mob of toddlers, babies and older children running around in their holiday-wear like court jesters flinging oversized checkers at one another. Lily promptly joined in the fun and tried her best to procure as many checkers as she could get her little hands on, even if it meant stealing them from very stoic little boys in the midst of a serious checkers match.

When it was time for our appointment I rounded Lily up and approached the Santa counter, Santa Pass (yep, that's what its called, I kid you not) in hand. The people at the Santa counter have pretty much the most powerful job in all of Oakland county during the holidays (think bouncer at the most exclusive club in NYC). When my Santa Pass was verified, we were allowed into the holding pen to wait our turn with the jolly elf. The holding pen contained numerous velvet-clad benches arrayed in a semi-circle facing the stairs that led to Santa. We walked into the pen and sat down on the bench closest to the entrance. "Oh, no, you can't sit here" a young Maiden admonished. "You have to sit here" she said, pointing to another bench 6 inches away from the bench we had chosen. Good grief. We then had to switch benches 4 more times to ensure that we were in the proper order amongst the rest of the lucky chosen in the holding pen.

When we finally moved to the final waiting bench, I knelt down in front of Lily. "What are you going to tell Santa you want for Christmas?" I asked. "Ba-bies!" she yelled. "And a choo-choo train!" she added, nodding her head. Good, I thought. All that practice was about to pay off! Young Maiden approached the top of the stairs..."Now presenting, Princess Lily!" she squeaked. We walked up the stairs to Santa. At this point, Lily looked at Santa, looked at Husband, and clenched tight to his jacket, her faced beginning to crumple. Uh, oh. I thought, picturing a photographer's nightmare. Quickly, I said to Lily in my most cheerful voice "Look! Its Santa!!!!! Blow him a kiss!". She did, and the rest was a mad blur of flashes and smiles as she sat on his lap, gave him a hug, and told him what she wanted for Christmas.

When it was all over, I happily skipped down the steps and shelled out $30 for these beautiful pics. Santa in The Hills may be a gigantic pain in the ass, but seeing my angelic child's face in these pictures make it all worth it.

I'm Famous!

2008-12-13T11:44:00.001-05:00

Check out the It's Lovely, I'll Take It blog in my sweet blog list. One of the photos I found made it on the site (Two Bottles of Beer...) I'm famous!!

Lily's Mama! Lily's Mama!

2008-12-08T21:55:00.003-05:00

Lily's been going through a bout of separation anxiety the past couple of weeks. She hasn't been napping the past couple of days which makes it worse. She's extra weepy and hates any sub teacher at school. Every morning its "Mama! Mama! Lily's mama!" Even when I'm holding her its "Lily's mama!" Lily's mama!" (at least she has possessives down. And while I'm bragging she's also counting to 20 and singing the whole alphabet, frosty the snowman, rainbow connection, ring around the rosie, twinkle twinkle, and old macdonald. She also can finish any sentence of any book we've read her in the past month.) So while its nice to be loved, its also exhausting. Hopefully she'll be back to her happy, confident, independent self before I know it. I know one day she'll want nothing to do with me, and I'll look back on her clingy monkey phase with longing. Although today I think it'd be nice to just make a trip to the bathroom without a little one-person audience!

Ho.......Ho......Ho......

2008-12-05T13:34:00.008-05:00

So somehow Husband and/or I have agreed to host numerous holiday engagements this month. I think many, if not all, of our "sure" "yeah" "why nots?" happened in September, when we were still delirious over our new house that is over 1000 square feet bigger than the old one. Suddenly, however, after we had 30 people over last weekend from Husband's bike racing team, and now that we are anxiously anticipating the arrival of countless staff members from my lovely elementary school tomorrow night, our super-big house isn't seeming so spacious. Then, as if that weren't enough, we also agreed to host Didu's entire extended family for Christmas in two weeks. As if adult parties weren't bad enough, that party will include "The Hellions", whom, admittedly, are over the foaming-at-the-mouth, propelling-one's-self-around-in circles-with-one's-feet-while-laying-on-the-floor, touching-every-painstakingly-decorated-sugar-cookie-with-grimy-hands stage, but who now are in the dyed-hair-in-the-face, black-nail polish-wearing, uber-tragic teenage stage. Just thinking about all of this makes me damn happy I've got a stocked liquor cabinet at home in anticipation of all of the impending merry-making that's about to occur. In the words of the underpaid angry department store Santa in The Christmas Story: "Ho....Ho.....Ho...."

I boss Dada. I boss.

2008-11-24T11:38:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago, Husband got Lily out of her crib in the morning and brought her to our bed--a weekend morning habit. After kisses and hugs to Mommy, Lily starts in on her demands...usually "Sesa! Sesa!" or "Get up Mama!" or "'Amon Dada, 'amon" or "Lily eat! Lily eat!". This particular morning, after her list of demands was rattled off, I said to Husband, "Lily's the boss!" after which Lily replied, "I boss Dada. I boss," knowingly nodding her head. My sakes.

5th Grade Camp

2008-11-07T17:12:00.002-05:00

For the 7th year in a row, I went to 5th grade camp for three straight days. I swear, I'm a glutton for punishment. Here are a few of the things I did while at 5th grade camp this year:

1) Listened to 47 ten and eleven year olds scream their heads off about 100 times
2) Ate food with nitrites, nitrates, MSG, and high fructose corn syrup at every meal
3) Whispered to three boys to zip up their pants in order to avoid their embarrassment
4) Dressed up and sang like a duck
5) Interpreted for an alien with blue hair (who also happens to be a colleague)
6) Reminded kids to be respectful about a thousand times
7) Saw a tree that had been struck by a tornado. Its bark was ripped off and inner wood was twisted like a cork-screw
8) Scored a goal while playing human Foosball
9) Reassured my fellow staff members that no, the parents in the next cabin could not hear us talking about them.
10) Rolled my eyes at a mom who constantly barked at the kids
11) Blocked the door when the same mom tried to barge into the staff's room
12) Watched kids dissect owl pellets (nasty)
13) Breathed through my mouth, trying not to vomit, while walking past the septic field 30 times a day
14) Skipped out of the reptile house in order to avoid possible salmonella contamination
15) Said the words "Ding dong" countless times
16) Listened intently for the words "And it is." to prove a point.
17) Accidentally swore in front of kids a few times.
18) Talked to Lily on the phone everyday
19) Explained why calling a kid poor might hurt his feelings
20) Was truly disappointed that the parent judges didn't let the staff win the Dutch Auction.
21) Watched my principal on the zip-line

Oh what fun.

Happy Halloween!

2008-11-01T13:56:00.004-04:00

Lily had quite the Halloween this year--parade at her school in the morning, parties at Mommy's school in the afternoon, over-the-top complete with train, mountains of food, and king-sized candy bars neighborhood party in the hew Hills 'hood, and a very brief jaunt trick or treating in the evening. Here are some pics from the lovely day.

Our Little Punkin 2007 and 2008

2008-10-19T12:21:00.006-04:00

Holy crap. It may be cliche, but man, kids grow up so fast! For the past two years, we've gone to Jenny's Farm Stand in Dexter and chosen our pumpkins for Halloween. As luck would have it, on a recent trip to Baby Gap at the outlet mall, I found the same outfit for Lily that she wore last year, in her new, big girl size. Here are some pics from last year:

And here are some from this year!

Farm Fun

2008-10-19T12:05:00.005-04:00

Last weekend that weather was amazingly warm for October in Michigan, so we decided to take Lily to the farm. She had a great time running through the corn maze, looking at roosters, turkeys, chickens, ponies and of course her favorite--the pigs, building a love/hate relationship with the "guys" (her word for scarecrows), and playing around in the butterfly garden. Mommy, Daddy, Papa, and Tana all ran around after her with wipes, trying to prevent animal feather, fur, and feces from entering her mouth. Yuck. But it was all worth it to see the look of joy that graced her beautiful face all afternoon.

World Cup 2031, Here We Come!!!

2008-10-01T22:17:00.009-04:00

Lily had her first soccer class last Saturday. I'm thrilled to say she had a blast, and she looks darn cute in her uniform, too! She scored goals, kicked down cone towers with amazing accuracy and agility for a nearly 21 month old, and just generally rocked. She was by far the star player in her class (would you expect anything less?). Husband told me that the most World Cup players were born in January. That, along with her superior athletic genes, make her a shoo-in for the 2031 USA Women's World Cup Soccer Team.

Little Crazy Girl

2008-09-22T11:40:00.005-04:00

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! Hi ho, hi ho, its off to work we go!

2008-09-22T11:21:00.002-04:00

After our "vacation", Husband and I got to work on all of the house stuff that didn't get done last weekend, this weekend. Joy. We woke up on Saturday morning and worked all day long. Weeding, mowing, mopping, scrubbing, vacuuming, dusting...you get the idea. Mind you, it was beautiful outside, so I was oh so thrilled that I got to do the indoor chores. I was pretty happy, however, that Husband spared me the outdoor work this time when he fell into bed on Saturday night, exhausted and whining about his back. All of this work was of course interrupted by Lil's numerous "Elmo potty!" false alarms that resulted in another big old poop in her diaper.

On Sunday, we were awoken at the butt crack of dawn by little miss "Mama? Dada? Elmo? Abby? Bi-bir?". To my dismay, Husband drug himself out of bed and started to get ready for his mountain bike race. After a nice, but hardly relaxing, morning at the races, we went home and an exhausted Lily and Mommy took a nap while Daddy "organized" the garage. Unfortunately, my napping meant Husband's "organization" had no assistance from me, and I woke to an even messier garage.

We then dropped Lil at Papa's house for a bit and drove to IKEA, grandiose ideas of lovely home organization swimming in our heads. Two hours later, we left with $125.00 worth of stuff, and nothing that we had planned on getting. Such is life. Maybe next weekend will be better.

Its Rain-ing its Pour-ing, Mommy is Cra-bby

2008-09-14T20:52:00.003-04:00

So we just got back from my first "vacation" since May. We went to Chicago for the weekend, well, Evanston, actually. I was excited. I made big plans to take Lily to the beach, the park, the zoo, yada yada yada. I knew that rain was in the forecast for The Hills all weekend, but I was hoping that the Windy City would be somehow spared and we'd be able to spend a glorious weekend outside. No such luck. The rain started on our way over Friday night and did. not. stop. until we came back home Sunday night. It wasn't just rain, mind you, it was record rainfall. 7 inches on Saturday alone. Instead of going to the beach, husband and I took Lily to Home Depot to get sandbags for my poor in-laws who were dealing with a partially flooded basement.

After the flood was contained, being the perfect mother that I am, I googled indoor playplaces for us to take Lil on Saturday afternoon. After 5 hours in the car Friday night and a morning spent inside, the wild child needed to run and play. I chose Exploratorium in Skokie (husband didn't waaaant to drive to chicago, waaaah, waaaaah), which was voted best indoor place to play in 2002, apparently. The parking lot was flooded so we had to park across the river-like street, but I was relieved to see that Explorawhatever was open. We snapped Lily into her raincoat, busted out the umbrellas, ran across the river and burst through the door. "Are you here for the blah blah's birthday party?" an all-too-bubbly zit-faced boy asked. "Nope, we're here to play!" I exclaimed, smiling at Lily. "Oh, we closed at one to the public on Saturdays," zitty stated. "Would you like a magnet with our hours?" he asked. Hell no I don't want a magnet with your hours! I want to know what kind of "best indoor place to play, 2002" is closed to the f-ing public at 2:00pm on a Saturday?!? Lily's little face fell as we walked back into the monsoon. She teared up as we buckled her into her carseat and sped through the river.

We decided to go to the mall, so Lil could play at Pottery Barn Kids (and Mommy could do a little shopping). Unfortunately, the mall in Skokie is an outdoor mall. Who thought that an outdoor mall in the Windy City with a winter that lasts two thirds of the year was a good idea is beyond me, but whatever. So we marched our raincoated, umbrella-ed bottoms through the flooded mall "streets" to PBK. Lily made a beeline for the play kitchens and doll stroller while Mommy browsed and Daddy picked up toys in Lily's wake. I was in the midst of sticker shock ($115 for a Halloween costume?!?) when I heard Husband call out my name. "What?" I answered, annoyed. "Come here," he said. Sigh. I walked over, sure that he was bored after 5 minutes and selfishly wanted to leave. "Elmo potty," he said, knees slightly bent, face red and strained. I stared at him, confused, until Lily ran by pushing a shopping cart at break-neck speed. As I caught a whiff of poo poo, I knew that we indeed had to leave.

Today it was back in the car for the drive home. The further east we drove, the harder the rain fell. Nice "vacation". Mommy is crabby.

Hope

2008-08-29T19:56:00.002-04:00

After listening to Biden and Obama's speeches the past couple of nights, I'm actually filled with hope for this country for the first time in a very long time.

GOBAMA!!!!

Alert! First Catwoman sighting in the Hills

2008-08-26T18:37:00.009-04:00

Today was my first day back to work after a long, leisure filled summer vacation (yeah, right, if you can call packing, moving, and unpacking leisurely). During my 15 minute, new and improved commute, I stopped at my corner Starbucks for a non-fat venti iced chai to make my day-long inservice about the new social studies curriculum a bit easier to swallow. I was standing in line when the woman in front of me turned around. I glanced up from my wallet and had my first face to face encounter with a bonafied Catwoman. You know, a woman who feels compelled to say to her plastic surgeon "Please, make me look like this!" as she points excitedly to a box of Meow Mix. This phenomenon is deserving of a WTF? WTFingF? "Go ahead," she purred, rubbing her head against my leg (okay, I made that last part up).

Apparently, this is some sort of plastic surgery reserved only for the very rich, older woman who thinks that having her face sculpted into feline form (save the whiskers) will make her look young and beautiful. I IMHO believe that it makes them look freakish, Michael Jackson-like, and like they are about to bolt off after a mouse at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, I'm sure that this sighting is only the first of many in the new 'hood. Next thing I know, I'll be greeted by a chorus of "Memory" in the milk aisle at the local Krogo, or be hissed at for taking too long in the litter box, I mean, bathroom stall at Neiman's.

Lily Poo Poo!

2008-08-24T12:15:00.005-04:00

Lily's at the age where she's starting to announce to anyone within earshot that she's about to poo poo. "Lily poo poo!" she exclaims, just before her face turns beet red in fierce concentration as she poops in her diaper. She also brings us various baby dolls numerous times daily saying "baby poo poo" and wants us to change their diapers. She talks about Mommy's poo poo and Daddy's poo poo (lovely). Being the outstanding mother that I am, as soon as this behavior started I immediately ran out to Tarjay and purchased the following items, convinced that my smart-as-a-whip daughter would certainly be potty trained in no time:

1)An Elmo potty seat
2)An Elmo book all about using the potty complete with uber-annoying sound buttons of Elmo screaming "Elmo can use the potty!", "Horray!", and toilets flushing.

Unfortunately, they did not sell compliant 19 month olds who can poo poo on command while sitting on said potty seat while reading said uber-annoying potty book. Lily of course is obsessed with her potty seat and potty book (no doubt because of her Sesa addiction) and wants to sit on the potty and press those little sound buttons hundreds of times each day, but has yet to poo poo anywhere but in her diaper. Of course, I'll keep all of my loyal readers updated on the Lily Poo Poo situation, as I'm sure you're all on the edge of your (toilet) seats waiting with baited breath for that first milestone poo poo in the potty.

We're Heeeeere!

2008-08-20T11:03:00.002-04:00

Alright, so now we officially live in The Hills. We've been unpacking since Friday with no end in sight. Gotta love it. I'll post pics after the plethora of cardboard has disappeared.

Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!

2008-08-13T13:10:00.002-04:00

We just sold our house. We're homeless for the moment. The guy who bought our house is very nice--makes me feel better that the place we've called home for the last 5 years isn't going to be inhabited by a jackass. Okay, back to packing.

The Heat is On, The Heat is Ah-On. The Heat is....On.

2008-08-11T09:28:00.002-04:00

T minus 4 days and counting till the move. Crazy. For the past two weekends, Husband and I have been sorting through spices with expiration dates of 2003, hauling car-loads of stuff to the recycle center, and generally being in awe of the total amount of crapola we have accumulated. I mean, really, does Husband need 20 old socks and 15 old boxers to use as rags? Am I really going to read all 300 pounds of wedding magazines ever again? For the love.

So in between packing, we've been trying to cram in every bit of A2 that we can before we move. We went to Zola for brunch yesterday (Lily ate half of my omelet but wouldn't touch the yum waffle we ordered for her.) and then went to an awesome park that is built like a huge wooden castle maze. So fun. We got burritos from BTB, sushi from Yotsuba, and I even got my old college staple--a Chipati from Pizza House. Yum.

We've also been packing in all the time with friends that is possible, given the amount of she-ite we have to do. Last week, Lily and I had back to back to back playdates with some amazing women and their gorgeous kiddos. Friday night, we went to a going away party for a friend who gets to move somewhere much cooler than The Hills. Saturday night we hung out with our friend (and his lovely girlfriend) that may be the only one who has outlasted us in A2. We've seen so many of our friends leave over the years that it's really strange that we're now the ones who are leaving. "Are you excited?" people have asked me. Ummm, nope. While I'm excited to have my commute drop from 45 miles to 8, and to have a bigger house, and to actually have a yard, I'm not excited to live in suburbia.

Last night I asked Husband if he thought that any liberals live in The Hills. "Maybe," he said. "Hopefully...". I suggested that we put an Obama sign in our yard right after we move in and then see who still welcomes us to the neighborhood. Husband didn't think that would be a good idea, and that we might alienate some people. Oh, dear. Let's hope that we find at least a few like-minded peeps in The Hills. I promise to try to be open-minded and not assume that everyone will be plastic surgery sculpted cat-people with names like Buffy, Dick and Mitzie.

Even More Pics!

2008-08-05T09:47:00.012-04:00

Just cause I'm trying to procrastinate and not pack, here are the latest pics of Lily, courtesy of JCPenney! I thought for sure they'd turn out like crap cause Little Miss Thang wasn't very cooperative (go figure), but I'm pleased as punch!

I'd Rather Be in Ann Arbor

2008-08-03T11:45:00.001-04:00

What can I say about the lovely town that has been my home since 1995? I'm going to miss it immensely. There's a reason why Husband and I continued to live here and commuted 35 and 45 miles one way to work, respectively. Actually, there are many reasons why we stubbornly stayed in A2 despite my incredible loathing for spending 2 hours each day in the car. Here are a few:

1. Lifestyle: Ann Arbor is a liberal oasis. We have a liberal gay mayor, a greenbelt around the city that outlaws urban sprawl, mandatory bike lanes on all road updates/construction, a million parks and lots of crunchy, organic stores.

2. People: Living here for 13 years we've seen many friends come and go. But it seems that no matter how many friends leave, new ones are always waiting in the wings ready to go play trivia at Connor O'Neills, suck down Sangria at Dominik's, grab brunch at Zola, or meet up at Burns Park for a playdate. Then there are the infamous people that make Ann Arbor the kind of place that prompts people to say, "Only in Ann Arbor!" as their heads shake, faint smiles on their faces. Like Bra Man, for instance, who Husband and I saw a couple of summers ago, riding his bike downtown in full make-up, bra without a shirt, and a thong poking out of his jean mini-skirt. Or Shakey Jake Woods, who passed away last fall but had been an A2 icon for years, always spotted downtown with his guitar in hand, smile lighting up his face. And then there was the guy we saw this spring with dreads down to his knees. The best thing about the people of Ann Arbor is the amazing level of diversity that is concentrated in such a small city in Southeast Michigan. On our street alone we have people of African-American, Indian, Latino, Asian, Filipino, Spanish, and Serbian (of course!) descent. Pretty amazing.

3. Events: There is always something to do in Ann Arbor. There's Top of the Park, a free two week long festival with music, food, and movies every night, Art Fair (not fun if you live on South U or work downtown!), UofM football games at the Big House, Taste of Ann Arbor, a car show, the Kerrytown Farmer's Market, FestiFools (a parade with huge puppets made by UofM art students), Oktoberfest and countless other things that draw huge crowds downtown.

4. Kids' Stuff: Toddler pools, countless parks, Urban Toddler, Jungle Java, The Hands on Museum, the library, Kindermusik. Lily is really going to miss going "Weee!" and to the "Oct-pus" (her name for the pool) in A2.

5. Soccer: I play soccer 2-4 nights each week, year round in Ann Arbor. The Ann Arbor Soccer Association is my outdoor soccer league April through October, and then WideWorld sports complex hosts my indoor teams for the rest of the year. I've not only played, but have been really involved in organizing the teams on which I play. Its going to be very hard to find such great peeps to play with in Metro Detroit!

6. Biking: Husband is already mourning the loss of some of his favorite bike routes in A2 and the surrounding areas. Maybe he'll decide to spend a little less time on the saddle and more time with his needy wifey when we move??? Yeah, right. I'm sure he's already pouring over our new County maps, highlighter in hand, plotting his next 100 mile adventure. He'll definitely miss the bike lanes, though. Let's hope he doesn't get run off the road by the Land Rovers, H2s, Beemers, and Benzes in our new hood.

7. Restaurants: This is a typical conversation between me and Husband on a Friday night..."Where should we go to eat?" Husband asks. I say, "Let's see, we have Zingerman's, Zingerman's Roadhouse, Eve, Pacific Rim, Zola, Palio, Upstairs Palio, Gratzi, Yotsuba, Godiako, Prickly Pear, Zanzibar, Middle Kingdom, Habana, Shalimar, The Earle, Gandy Dancer, Casey's, Amadeus, ABC, Grizzly Peak's, Great Lakes, Tuptim Thai, Siam Square, La Shish, Chop House, Felix...[Pause for breath] Sabor Latino, Bella Ciao,". You get the idea. Man, we're going to miss the food in A2. Our bank account will be happy though!

8. UofM: This is where I went to school for 6 years, and Husband almost as long (although I got 2 degrees and he only got 1! Hahahaha!) There's nothing better than living in a college town. Not only do we get to laugh at all the drunken college kids playing Beer Pong on Packard on our drive home from downtown, but we also get to take advantage of lots of stuff an amazing University has to offer. For example, I took a class at the School of Social Work this summer (as an aside, I don't know how students are able to pass any classes when they sit there clacking away on their laptops messaging their friends on facebook. The best diversion I had as a student was the crossword in The Michigan Daily.)

Yep, it'll royally suck to leave Ann Arbor. Watch for a post in the coming weeks about what its like to live in The Hills (speaking of royal suckage).

Bloody Hell!

2008-08-01T18:30:00.000-04:00

Husband and I have now been together for 10 years. We met in 1998 at UofM. Unbeknownst to either of us, we lived next door to one another on South U for nearly a year before we met. One night my housemates and I threw a party, Future Husband crashed said party on his way home from the bar. We were both wasted and ended up talking for over an hour on the front porch (I always tell him it was a good thing I was wasted cause otherwise I would have told him to beat it). A few weeks later, one of my roommates invited Future Husband to come out with us for my 21st birthday. Future Husband accepted the invite and showed up at my house at 11pm on July 30th, 1998. At midnight, we hit Mitch's, by last call I was wasted again and Future Husband ended up spending the night. The rest is history. It never should have worked, but here we are, proof that drunken hook-ups and putting out on the first date sometimes pays off.

Lots has happened in the past 10 years. We've both earned Masters degrees, gotten jobs, bought (and sold, hopefully!) houses, and have an amazing daughter. We're pretty damn happy and successful. The picture of perfection. In the past few months, however, it seems that Husband has a little secret. A dark side, if you will. Its come to my attention that Husband has adopted a new idol. And its not Lance Armstrong. Husband's new role model is a serial killer that kills serial killers named Dexter.

It all started when our friend Ana recommended we watch Dexter, a Showtime series that she was hooked on. Here's the premise from the Showtime website:

He'll charm fellow officers with a doughnut, wile away a Sunday with his girlfriend Rita, or chop up a victim and package their body parts in plastic bags. Hiding beneath the mundane exterior and contrived façade of Dexter, a charming blood spatter expert for the Miami Police Department, is an obsession with meting his own twisted brand of justice: stalking and murdering the guilty.

We cued up our Netflix with the first two disks and the next thing we knew, we were hooked as well. We watched the entire first season in a little over two weeks. Then, because we couldn't wait, we ordered Showtime and watched season two On Demand. Now, don't get me wrong, I love the show, too, but I started to become concerned when Husband started talking about Dexter non-stop. How cool Dexter was. How likable Dexter was. Dexter this, Dexter that. He even suggested that we name our future son (if we have a son someday) Dexter Morgan Ehmann. Ummmm...I kinda think it wouldn't be a good idea to name our son after a serial killer character, hunny. The fatal blow came when I woke up one morning and Husband was whining that he had been up all night. When I asked him why he mumbled something about thinking and worrying. Work? I asked. Nope. Biking? Nope. Husband was worried about Dexter. After a particularly gut-wrenching episode, Dexter had gotten himself into a sticky wicket and it looked as though he may get caught. Husband was so worried that Dexter would be apprehended by Johnnylongarmofthelaw that he stayed up all night, his mind racing with possible ways Dexter could get out of the jam, unscathed.

So does it worry me that Husband is idolizing a serial killer? Do I think that its the beginning of a mid-life crisis at 35? Do I wonder if he's really going on training rides and not hunting serial killers whom he will then serial kill? I don't know. But after 10 years of being together and 4 years of marriage if the worst Husband is doing is fantasizing about slicing "deserving" people's throats and living a double life like Dexter then so be it. It could be worse...he could be a Republican.

More Pictures!

2008-07-30T08:53:00.000-04:00

18 Month Pictures

2008-07-30T08:43:00.000-04:00

I can't believe Lily is 18 months old already! Well, she's actually almost 19 months old but I've been busy! Here are some pics from her big Year-and-a-Half birthday for your viewing pleasure...

Here she is...

2008-07-29T08:26:00.000-04:00

A couple of summers ago, Husband and I met up for lunch in Farmington Hills, where he works as a not-so-nerdy engineer. I was driving him back to the office and was stopped at a traffic light when I glanced in my rear view mirror. There was a young bleach-blonde girl in a purple PT Cruiser looking in her rear view mirror, applying make-up. I rolled my eyes at her obsession with her appearance, and thought about the media's influence on young women, self-objectification, and all sorts of other smart, scholarly things that constantly fill my incredible machine-like brain. The light turned green and the car jerked forward suddenly. Husband looked at me, assuming that I stalled the car. I, on the other hand, knew immediately that the make-up maven had rear-ended us. I pointed to the right, indicating that she follow us to the side of the road. "She hit us!" I growled to Husband. I pulled over, got out of the car, and watched the bleach-haired bobble head walk toward me, her hands covering her lipstick laden mouth. "I'm sooo s-s-s-sorry," she stammered, her hands visibly shaking. "You really need to watch where the hell you are going, instead of putting on make-up!" I stated, furious. Husband surveyed the car and, noting no damage, told me to calm down. Oh, I was perfectly calm. Calm and very angry. "Give me your name and insurance information," I ordered the girl, who looked all of seventeen. She opened her purse and dug around in her wallet, clearly terrified. "Here," she squeaked, holding a card in her hand. I looked down at her Blue Cross Blue Shield card. "No! Your car insurance!" I yelled, stunned at her stupidity. She walked to her car and after a minute or so returned with the correct insurance card. I wrote down her name and insurance information, wagged my finger at her one last time, and got back in the car to take Husband back to work.

Fast forward to last summer. I was in Farmington Hills at Jungle Java, waiting for my friend to round up her kids so we could leave. I was standing by the door, Lily in my arms, when I looked down at a newspaper stand. I couldn't believe it. The bleach-blonde bobble head was smiling up at me, her picture plastered under the headline 'Miss Michigan Crowned...blah blah blah'. Yep, we got rear-ended by Miss Michigan.

Fast forward to this past winter. I was flipping through The Guide when I saw a very intriguing listing--Miss America:Reality Check. Hmmmm, I thought. I wonder if the bobble-head will be on tv. Yep. There she was, coiffed hair, blue swimsuit, Michigan sash, fake eyelashes and all. The premise of Miss America:Reality Check was that Miss America needed a make-over. Here's the description from TLC...

For the first time in history, all 52 women competing for the Miss America 2008 title, live under one roof to undo everything they have learned about pageant basics. The goal is to determine if their smarts, attitudes and looks hold up in contemporary society. The women participate in an intense set of events and challenges designed to prepare them for the finale: a renewed, modern competition that will redefine what it takes to be Miss America.

Yeah, so Miss America was going to be smart, talented, modern and non-plastic looking, I thought. Awesome! Certainly the girl who thought her medical insurance card would be helpful to me after she rear-ended us due to her obsession with her lacquered face couldn't possibly be a contender in such a competition. So I proceeded to watch Miss America:Reality Check (admittedly, this was not difficult, given my fascination with train-wreckish reality tv shows). She wasn't on the reality show much. Apparently she wasn't too interesting to the editors who instead focused on the homely, outspoken girl from Alaska or the brave girl from some southern state who refused to style her hair without her "ratting comb". After the reality show was over, the Miss America pageant aired live. I watched in horror as Miss Michigan survived cut after cut. I cringed while I listened to her sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in the talent competition and was certain that she had blown it and was about to be axed. I heard her profound answer to her interview question how "respect keeps marriages together" and thought she was looking at a fourth runner up spot at best. Nope. As last year's winner placed the crown on her (bobble) head, I realized that not only were we rear-ended by Miss America, but that we live in a world where women's obsession with looks trumps their intelligence, and plastic-faced, fake eyelashed idiots win every time. As a parent of a little girl who will grow to be a woman before I know it, I can only hope that I can help her build a coat of armor that will prevent her from being permeated by the media's idea of an "ideal" woman, and that she will grow up strong, confident, and smart enough to know that if she rear-ends someone it will be because she was distracted by a super interesting story on NPR, and she'll need her car insurance card, not Blue Cross Blue Shield.

Packing up and moving out

2008-07-21T08:00:00.001-04:00

Well, I'm happy (and somewhat sad) to say that Incompetent pulled through--we sold our house. We have exactly three weeks and two days to pack up all of our worldly possessions and move. Where are we moving, you ask? That's a topic for another post...now its time to focus on the fact that I've been buried in a sea of cardboard boxes, packing tape, and five years worth of crap that we've seemed to accumulate while trying to occupy an 18 month old (let's just say she's had her Sesa fix a little more often lately!). And where is Husband through all of this? New Zealand. Skiing. Yep, that's right. I'm sorting through 50 pairs of jeans and attempting to fit martini glasses into a box made for white wine glasses while Husband is in "the most beautiful place on the planet, baby! Let's move here!!!". Now, to be fair, Husband is technically in New Zealand on a work trip, but that really doesn't make me feel any better when packing up 19 boxes of books. Not fun. In addition, I am attempting to schedule contractors to take care of the few things that we need to have done per the home inspector prior to closing. The most fun I've had this week is spending hours in the blazing sun digging out the ginormous flower boxes that the previous owner's son decided to place right up next to the house when building the deck. Apparently dirt next to the foundation of a house isn't a good idea. Umm, duh. Given the quality of the flower boxes and the deck itself, I'd say the previous owner's son wasn't playing with a full deck (pun intended).

So, yeah, while Pete is hanging out with the hobbits in the picturesque land where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed, I'm just having a keen time hauling 200 pounds of magazines out to the curb for recycling, wrestling with my grandmother's overgrown rosebush so I can take it with us when we go, and staring incredulously at the sheer volume of baby stuff that has taken over our basement. Fun stuff.

Parenting:The Game Show

2008-07-15T17:25:00.000-04:00

I'll admit it, I've been known to be somewhat of a braggart when it comes to my child (and many, many other things in my life, come to think of it. They are all worthy of braggarting, though, I promise...). Lily's been crawling since 6 months, 1 week old. Lily knows how to count to ten. Lily knows 50+ words. Lily's the most gorgeous child in the universe. Blah, blah, blah. My work friends, with whom I eat lunch nearly daily during the school year, never fail to razz me about my deluded perception of my child. I can always count on them to not-so-gently yank me back to reality when I start talking about how Lily can make an elephant sound better than a real elephant. "Wow! She's soooooo gifted!" they'll say, rolling their eyes at each other between bites of tuna noodle casserole or left over LaShish (mmmmmm, LaShish). Now I think that this type of bragging is perfectly normal and perfectly fine, and I think if you are a parent and claim that you've never engaged in this type of behavior you are FOS (google it if you don't know what it means), but lately I've noticed a different type of bragging that can only be described as Parenting:The Game Show.

Parenting:The Game Show works like this...the contestants (the parents) take turns verbally sharing special tidbits about their child's development that they are pretty sure the other contestants' children have not yet mastered until one parent is completely satisfied that their own child is indeed superior to every other child in the group, all while seeming modest and non-braggarty. Parenting:The Game Show is played in a variety of settings, including, but not limited to: playgrounds, play dates, classes geared towards children, "play-cafes" (again, google is your friend), fast-food restaurants, libraries, stores, public restrooms, school lobbies, etc. etc.

Here is a typical round of Parenting:The Game Show.

Contestant 1: How's Nevaeh sleeping these days?

Contestant 2: Great! She's in her toddler bed now! No more crib! How about Isabella?

Contestant 1: She's been out of her crib for months! Her ped said that she could have slept in a twin bed from day one, but we didn't want her to feel different from all the other children. We really wanted her to have the crib experience, you know?!? (laughing)

Contestant 3: Yeah, I know what you mean about wanting them to be like normal kids. Our Spencer can identify twelve different species of penguins by call alone, but we tell him that other kids may be embarrassed if they don't know that much about penguins, so he should be sensitive to their "special needs".

Contestant 1: Oh, and don't get me started about choosing a school. I mean, I just don't know if the schools in our neighborhood are really equipped to teach someone with such advanced knowledge as Isabella. Some of the childen in that school have never even been given an IQ test!

Contestant 2: But are IQ tests even valid? I really think Nevenah was bored during her testing because she only scored 4 standard deviations above the mean. According to that, she's only smarter than 99% of children her age. Of course at some point you have to wonder if she's just smarter than the people who came up with the test!

Contestant 3: Wow! Nevaeh's really bright! I think Spencer is the only child who scored higher than her!

Notice the constant one-upping, the criticisms masked as compliments, the false show of sympathy for those that are less accomplished. I've seen way too many episodes of Parenting:The Game Show. I think I'll go back to my regularly scheduled programming--So You Think You Can Dance, The Bachelorette, The Real World...you know, the really high quality stuff.

Oh the Nostalgia...

2008-07-08T15:05:00.000-04:00

So every fourth of July since I was little, LO-town (my hometown) hosts an event of pure magic and wonder--a carnival downtown and fireworks over the lake. I remember my grandma taking my sister and me, dressed in matching sunsuits, to the carnival summer after summer. We'd ride the "small rides" as my dad had outlawed the bigger ones for fear that the gentleman that had put the ride together had thrown back one too many the night before and missed an essential bolt of some sort (insert eye-roll here). We'd also get some sort of forbidden treat like cotton candy or a snowcone. Later, we'd stay up late, twirl sparklers through the air, and watch the fireworks from my grandparents' house on the lake. It was amazing.

This year Lily was old enough to enjoy the festivities--at least part of them, anyway. Fireworks at 10pm don't really jive with her 8pm bedtime. I was sooo excited to take her to the carnival, and couldn't wait to snap pictures of her on the "small rides", especially the carousel. After her nap, Husband, Lily, my mom and I drove downtown LO-town. As soon as the carnival entered my sight line I was flooded with memories. We parked, strapped Lily in her stroller and with a goofy grin plastered on my face we walked onto the "midway". It was...disgusting. Suddenly, I turned to my mom in horror. "Was it always like this???" I asked her, my face surprisingly ashen in the glow of the afternoon sun. She laughed and replied with a curt, "Yep!" Oh for the love. How could I have been so wrong as a child? How could I have not seen past the dizzying lights, spinning horses, and gigantic stuffed flamingos to see the carnival for what it really was--a nasty, dirty place that smelled of chemical toilets and nast-ass fried food? The people were gross (think mothers with titty tats and menthol cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, dragging kids with Kool-Aid moustaches around), the prizes were speckled with dirt, and there was yellow, police-grade caution tape sectioning off a quarter of the carousel. Yuck. My hopes of a perfect picture of a smiling Lily on a dazzling painted horse were dashed. No child of mine was going to set hide nor hair on a caution taped carousel. Suddenly, I knew exactly why my "over-protective" father had put the cabash on the big rides. The "gentlemen" and "ladies" working at the carnival looked like they were on something a little harsher than a few too many drink-a-roonies.

As I walked through the streets, utterly horrified, wallowing in disappointment, my daughter was pointing frantically at everything, a ginormous grin covering her gorgeous face. She was loving it. We turned a corner and a three-story high slide came into view. Lily tore at her stroller straps, attempting to break free and run, arms flailing, up the rusty metal staircase to the top of the slide to go "Weeeee!" (see Language explosion blog entry). I looked at Husband. Husband looked at me. My mom was smiling and nodding at Lily. I took a deep breath as I watched kid after kid come down the slide, wind in their hair, perma-grins plastered on their faces (I think the Kool-aid 'staches made their smiles stand out even more, but I digress). "I could take her on my lap", Husband croaked, equally as shell-shocked as I. I knelt down to Lily's level. "Do you want to go on the slide with Daddy?", secretly hoping she'd chicken out. "YESSSSSSS!" she replied, elated. So Husband dished out $6 (I did some quick math and had a very fleeting thought at this moment that maybe I made the wrong career choice, cause those peeps are banking!), hoisted Lily out of her stroller, and began walking up the metal staircase, one step at a time. As I stood at the bottom with my mom, watching my daughter and husband slide down the faded green plastic on a burlap sack, I realized that its our duty as parents to allow our children to live in a world of magic and wonder, even though we know as adults that the world can be a nasty place.

Hi, my name is Lily, and I'm an Addict.

2008-07-07T09:41:00.000-04:00

My daughter is addicted to Sesame Street. Its like kiddie crack. I was so careful about not letting her watch ANY tv for the first year of her life, but then sometime this spring (most likely when she dropped from two naps to one), she had her first glimpse of "Sesa". Then, a friend of Nana and Ota bought Lily an Ernie puppet. Now, just a few short months later, she's officially hooked. Here's what a typical day looks like for my little fiend. Wakes up. Talks in her crib "Mommy? Daddy? Mama? Dada? Abby? Bert? Ernie? Mommy? Daddy? Abby? Abby? Abby?". Pete goes in to get her, changes her diaper. "Mama? Mama? Mommy? Mommy?" He brings her into our room. "Mommy!" Gives me a hug and kiss. "Hi! Sesa? Sesa? Sesa? Sesa? Sesa?" Points to the remote control. "Eh! Eh! Eh! Sesa? Mommy, Sesa?" Mommy and Daddy succumb to the addiction and put on Sesa On Demand (On Demand is like having a coca field in your backyard and a crack lab in your basement). She watches while we attempt to get just a little bit more sleep (our addiction since Lily was born). Later, when we come downstairs, she beelines for her toy bin and gets her Abby, Big Bird and Snuffleupagus dolls and her Bert and Ernie puppets. "Sesa? Sesa? Sesa? Sesa?" Because we're enablers, she then continues her episode from upstairs on the downstairs tv, surrounded by her Sesa dolls and puppets. If we're home all day, she ususally requests Sesa at least 50 more times, and will ususally watch at least one more episode in the late afternoon. So how did we go from zero tv to two hours per day? Much like a crack addict wakes up one day and wonders how his addiction got so out of control, the last few months is a blur of yellow feathers, monster puppets, songs of sunny days, and uni-brows.

Safe Sand? Raising kids in a toxic world.

2008-07-02T16:27:00.000-04:00

I never would have thought that as a parent I'd google things like 'safe sand' and receive almost daily emails from the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission warning of toys that may cause my child bodily harm. Seriously, I don't think parents of us Gen-Xers had to worry about lead-laden Barbies, roofie-laced Rubik's Cubes and G.I. Joe dolls with guns that can actually shoot kids' heads off. So yesterday, in the interest of my daughter and the fact that I don't really want her inhaling sandbox dust that will promote tumor growth in her lungs, I found out that safe sand is sold by a company in California. Its only $60.00 for 50 pounds of the stuff, shipped. Too bad the tiny sandbox I plan on purchasing holds 200 pounds of sand. Hmmmm...should I spend $240 on safe sand for Lily? I guess it just infuriates me that I even have to make such a decision. Next thing we know, we'll all be wearing gas masks and enclose ourselves in big plastic bubbles. Except then we'd find out that our plastic bubbles are made of plastic containing BPA. I think really the only thing that's safe to say is that we're all pretty much gonna be screwed.

Peony Garden

2008-06-30T17:44:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures we took of Lily in the Peony Garden in the Arb. There are hundreds of peony plants that all bloom at the same time each spring.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

House, anyone??

2008-06-27T13:02:00.000-04:00

OMFingG. We are never going to sell our house. It doesn't really help that our realtor is turning out to be an Incompetent. Wednesday afternoon, Lily was just settled down for a long summer's nap, and I was chillin' on the couch watching the lesbian show (don't ask) and in what do my wandering eyes do appear, but a realtor and couple with their baby walking up to the door. WTF!?? WTFingF!?? Apparently, Incompetent doesn't think that its important to pick up the phone and make me aware of the fact that people want to see our house. So I let them in, explain that no, my realtor didn't call and yes, my daughter is sleeping upstairs so they can't see her bedroom, and scurry onto the deck to give Incompetent a call. Voicemail, of course... "Umm hi. Its Katie. People just showed up at my house for a showing that I wasn't aware of. Call me back." (Read: You stupid Incompetent, you forgot to call us about the showing. I'm so glad you are potentially going to suck up any remaining bit of equity we have built in this house for doing such a suck job. Oh, and by the way...you SUCK) 20 minutes later, she calls back, gives 50 different excuses (Read: LIES) and thanks me for "Being so sweet about this!" Now, if you are reading this, you most likely know me personally, and undoubtedly know that I am anything but sweet. In fact, I don't think anyone has ever referred to me as sweet. Except maybe when Lily has wiped her cookie smeared hands on my face and then someone runs into my face with their tongue. Then maybe I can be categorized as sweet. Maybe. So, dear reader, what is the point, you ask? Well, if we don't sell our house then I can look forward to yet another school year filled with 60-90 minute commutes (ONE way), idiots crashing into one another, salt shortages, orange barrels, obnoxious morning show deejays, copious amounts of money spent on gas, and my personal favorite--sunshine delays on 696. So please, someone buy our house. Anyone.

Talking up a storm

2008-06-26T09:12:00.000-04:00

Lily is in the midst of something called a language explosion. I like it much better than her earlier explosions, which I coined "Poopsplosions". Yes, language explosions are much nicer. Here is a partial list of her words, in no particular order:

Sesa (always whispered, meaning Sesame Street)

Papa (for Grandpa)

Didu (Grammy is glad that she's no longer refering to her as DooDoo)

Botch (Gretch)

Bert (from Sesa)

Abby (from Sesa)

Bobby (Barney, the uber-annoying purple dinosaur)

Nana (banana or Nana, depending on the context)

Oh (Ota)

Mommy (sometimes Mama, but lately Mommy)

Dada (sometimes Daddy)

Ami (Her doll Amelie)

Ball

Down

Elp (Help)

Apple

Weee! (Swing or park)

F,S,P,M,N,V,Z (the letters)

Lil-lil-lil (Lily)

Baby

Babies

Thump (Frosty the snowman-related)

Block

Cheese

Ha-ha (Bunny)

Neow (Kitty cat)

A million other animal sounds

Nose

Mouth

Ears

Eyes

Ni-ni shh shh (bed)

Baff (bath)

Books

Oct-pus (Octopus)

Lala (Princess)

Ah-ah-ah (Evil queen)

Ah ah ah, ah ah ah (Mermaid)
Hot
Wet
Niiiiice (Lotion)
Brush
Beans

Yep, even when she says "no!" and runs away, I'll take language explosions over Poopspolsions any day.

Heeere we go!

2008-06-20T08:21:00.000-04:00

Well, I thought since I have sooo much time on my hands this summer (at least according to my husband, who lives in a world of pure imagination) I thought I'd start a blog to serve as a stand-in for my memory, which has all but disappeared since birthing Lily. Its my hope that this blog will offer the reader philosophical musings, answers to questions previously unanswered by the human race, reasons to keep smiling in times of despair, and at the very least, updates about all things in the world of Ehmann (which, let's face it, is truly fascinating indeed!)

Why the title? Well, for those of you who don't know, Swinging on a Star is a song by Bing (no last name needed IMO). The lyrics pretty much sum up every parent's hopes and dreams for their child--live up to your potential, get educated, and be a person of good character. Its not very PC (but I don't really think PC was around in 1944, was it?), but it sure gets the point across!

Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a mule?
A mule is an animal with long funny ears
Kicks up at anything he hears
His back is brawny but his brain is weak
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
And by the way, if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a pig?
A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
His shoes are a terrible disgrace
He has no manners when he eats his food
He's fat and lazy and extremely rude
But if you don't care a feather or a fig
You may grow up to be a pig

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a fish?
A fish won't do anything, but swim in a brook
He can't write his name or read a book
To fool the people is his only thought
And though he's slippery, he still gets caught
But then if that sort of life is what you wish
You may grow up to be a fish
A new kind of jumped-up slippery fish

And all the monkeys aren't in the zoo
Every day you meet quite a few
So you see it's all up to you
You can be better than you are
You could be swingin' on a star