Cribsetters

Waggaloo?

2010-02-28T19:54:00.000-08:00

I am ridiculously in love with the following cd: Sarah Lee Guthrie and Family...Go Waggaloo

Check out track 7....just makes me smile.

Something HUGE is in the works

2008-05-06T21:53:00.001-07:00

Stay tuned for some BIG news......

Singing in the Green

2008-02-19T19:21:00.000-08:00

Jam fell asleep in the car. It was really late in the day, and a nap at four just doesn't pass mustard. When we got home, I gently woke him up. He wasn't thrilled. He started crying "I don't want to sing!" I explained where we were and tried to orient him. He looked right at me and said "not green." So, I said: "buddy, you're tired aren't you?" He replied that he was. As I was carrying him in the house, I was just dying to know just what the kid was dreaming about. Dancing Leprauchans, maybe? Any ideas?

On my CD rotation:

2008-02-18T19:59:00.000-08:00

I am in love with Yael Naim! Am I so behind the times?
My boys are going through a Broadway phase. Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat is a big hit round these parts. But only the one with Donny Osmond....

Cutting Trees and Running

2008-02-12T19:05:00.000-08:00

I was running with Mudd in the jogger when he started making himself heard. He eyed a man cutting trees and boy, was he enthralled. I was itching to keep running but Mudd looked so intent that I felt bad budging. So, we sat there for a good ten minutes watching the branches fall to the ground and the man move up and down with the leaves.

It was just a mental check for me. Keep it simple.

It reminded me of a question Jam frequently asks me when I am running on the treadmill, or what he affectionately calls "treadmilling."

Jam: "Momma, where are you running to?"

Me: "Never really thought of that before, Bud."

Diamonds are Forever...

2008-02-10T18:59:00.000-08:00

I was teaching a little four year old girl how to read. I pointed at one of the letters and the adorably precocious four year old noticed my diamond ring. She said: "My Mommy has the same ring as you. Well, not exactly. Her diamond is SO much bigger." Ouch.

Winter

2008-02-07T20:02:00.000-08:00

3 boys, 3 ear infections, 3 colds...

Check your coats...

2008-01-28T20:22:00.001-08:00

It was a chilly LA day. We don't get much of them around here. I take it upon myself to dress the part when I can. I've got this fabulous yellow puff vest. It's the kind of vest that never really goes out of style...until it does.
But for now I absolutely adore it. So does Mudd. I think it reminds him of the construction workers and their yellow slickers, or maybe it's the sheer density of the thing and the way that it weighs him down.
This morning I was looking everywhere for the vest. When I finally found it, I was in a hurry to get Mudd to preschool. It was only as I was driving around town that I reached into the pocket and pulled out:
a toy hammer
a toy screwdriver
and 3 toy pliers.

I love my Flip-Flops!

2008-01-22T20:19:00.000-08:00

It's a good thing that I live in LA where the warm weather makes a mani-and pedi a weekly activity. Tons of people in LA live in flip flops all year long. We take our flops very seriously. Designer or not, it's all about comfort. Here are my top three flip-flop choices (in the luxury, mid-sized, and economy range) for the new year:

1. Monolo Blahnik, Pipilia: Fabulous gold and shimmery evening flop. I love them because they are so sexy, yet still flats! They are a flash of color that will go great with the right nail polish.

Barney's

2. Tory Burch, Miller Thong: Perfect Jeans and a T-shirt flop. The logo is just the right size to give these flops flavor without being annoying. I love casual couture, and I love these shoes.

Tory Burch

3. J. Crew, Classic Wedge Flip-Flop: Whether you are wading in the water, or walking on the hot sand, these flip-flops perform. They get the job done and they still manage to look good in an "I don't take myself too seriously" kind of way. Plus, they are under twenty bucks!

http://www.jcrew.com/catalog/product.jhtml?id=prod76173231&catId=cat280218

Things I love...

2008-01-16T20:40:00.000-08:00

I am so totally obsessed with Jemma Kidd. I know, I know. With three kids, who the heck has time for make-up? But you know what, the glistening lip gloss is just delicious. Seriously.

Seeing is Believing...

2008-01-13T20:49:00.000-08:00

Jam is jonesin for glasses. Yup, eyeglasses. As a contacts wearing, optical despising Momma, I keep telling the kid to enjoy the perfect vision while it lasts. But he wants no part of it. " I want glasses!" he is known to scream on numerous occassions.

He just had his four year old checkup (okay, so I was only about four months late on this) and he got his beloved eye exam.

Do you know what my sneaky son did? He sabotaged the test. No joke.

The RN asked the kid colors, and he looked over at me and smirked. Every color that she pointed to was orange. Every last one.

He failed the exam on purpose. So, now he has an appointment with a specialist and I know that the kid can see. At least I thought I did....

Jemima WHAT?

2008-01-09T22:24:00.000-08:00

It was absolutely hideous.
Hives.
A ring of redness all around Mudd's cute little pouty lips.
Red spots all over his body...
This screamed allergy, but what in the world did darling Mudd eat?
Mudd is the kid who dove into peanut crackers at ten months old causing near convulsions (to me, not him as I watched him and prayed that he didn't have a peanut alergy). Then I remembered that for the past few days my boys have been insisting on waffles. I normally keep my go to girl Aunt Jemima ready to roll but I was feeling like a healthy, earthy momma and bought them organic maple syrup in a glass bottle from TJ's (Trader Joe's, not Tijuanna!). My boy is allergic to maple! Did you know that Aunt Jemima syrup does not contain maple? Check out the ingredients and it'll scare you.

To Every Season...

2008-01-05T20:45:00.000-08:00

You know the Byrds song:
"To Every Season, Turn, Turn, Turn...
There is a Reason...."

My eighty three year old grandmother passed away on Friday. She was really ill and in a great deal of pain. She is finally at peace. But, still...it doesn't really make the grieving any easier.
My boys have been itching to go to her house; I think that they can sense something is up. I used to take them there almost every day. She was the boys' number one playdate.
She gave them popsicles, candy, chocolate, soda, and Jello. All things that Momma doesn't buy. She never listened when I told her my boys' don't need "that junk."
Her reply? "In my house, I'm the boss."

She was amazing, M&M's and all.

We're really going to miss you, Bubbie.

The Witching Hour

2008-01-02T20:24:00.000-08:00

Every day, without fail, the boys start to lose it at around five thirty. The madness lasts for a good hour.
Conveniently, Big D is still at work for the brunt of the crazy times. Jam, Mudd, and Baby Wiz start a chorus of whines that manifest into wails.
The boys eat dinner, take baths, and maintain the funkiness without fail every day. I've tried lengthening nap times, bed times, snack times...all to no avail. Nothing I do makes any difference.
The three amigos feed off of each other and I'm just there to watch and pray that nobody gets hurt.
If you're not doing anything tomorrow, whaddya say you swing by my house at about five?
That would be swell.

The Simple Things

2008-01-01T21:48:00.000-08:00

Recently, Jam and Mudd have become absolutely obsessed with garbage trucks. Baby Wiz even crawls to join the boys as they look out the window and watch the truck do its thing. I'm telling you, it's wholesome famiy fun.

Since it is painfully hard for the boys to wait an entire week for trash day, we've taken to watching you tube videos:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rB9ePIbRYg8

Let this new year be one filled with an appreciation of the simpler things...

Seriously, this stuff really happens!

2007-12-31T20:11:00.000-08:00

I seriously DON'T get how someone could be pregnant for nine plus months and not know it.

In honor of the new year, here is a link you can't miss:

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2007/12/31/or.mcdonalds.baby.birth.koin

My Clementines...

2007-12-30T20:37:00.000-08:00

Big D and I are obsessed with clementines. They are so good...the perfect amount of sweet, tart, and puckery. But there is an art to picking the perfect clementine. You've really got to pick it up and feel it out.
But my number one prereq is that the clementine must have the stem and leaves. It just makes the whole fruit feel more organic and wholesome.
So, you've got to imagine my dismay when I went with Big D to Whole Foods to pick out some clementines. He picked up the fruit, with the gorgeous stem and leaves still attached, and then he started plucking them off.

Me: "What are you doing? Those are the best Clementines."
Big D: "Oh, no. I'm putting the clemetines in the bag, I'm just taking off all of the extra stuff."
Me: "Why would you do that? That's what makes the clementine.
Big D: "No, all that makes is extra weight. When you pay by the pound you take off the extras."

For the record, I still keep the stems and leaves on my clementines. They are worth their weight in gold....kind of.

Date Night

2007-12-27T22:17:00.000-08:00

Big D got a great new consulting gig, so we decided to have a date night in his honor.
Plans?
I really wanted to see "Juno," but Big D didn't think we could really celebrate if we were watching a movie.
Plan B: Big D is a teetotaler. So, no movie...no drinks...what kind of a date did he have in mind? Luckily, I can hold my own. I thought margaritas on Main Street would be fun. We walked into Lula's. A fun place, good vibe and all. But, then I just knew that we had to walk right back out.
Lots of families, highchairs galore. At eight thirty on our date night?
Heck NO!
We walked down the block to an Irish Pub. That's more like it. A big glass of Guinness and a Ginger Ale.
Life is good.

Dinos and Armored Cars...

2007-12-25T21:29:00.000-08:00

Jam has been asking a ton of questions lately. I’m always fascinated when he doesn’t question my answers.
Because I am Mom, I must know everything. I can usually wing it, but sometimes, I quickly revert to the quick go to "ask Daddy."

This morning we were reading a book about dinosaurs. The dinosaurs were all grouped into different categories but Jam was most fascinated by the dinosaurs that had spiny shells for protection. First he asked me what the shells were for.

I explained that they protected the dinosaurs like armor. He remembered that a couple of days back we had talked about armored cars. When he asked me if the shell protected the dinosaur like armor protects a car, I was pretty darn impressed.

Maybe this kid actually does listen. I was about ready to turn the page, but not before one last look at his spiky dino. I decided to make myself feel extra good that all of my hard work was finally paying off.

"So Jam, some dinosaurs have shells. Why?" He looked at me with those big, beautiful, sage eyes and said "to protect the money."

Yea, I guess that I never saw it that way before, bud.

Forgetful

2007-12-23T20:38:00.000-08:00

I have been seriously forgetful lately. I mean, not your garden variety forgetful. But forgetting where I put lots of important things like my Blackberry (found it in the trash next to the Seventh Generations), my keys (still haven't found them), those little appointment cards from the doctor, and kids at carpool.
Seriously.
It got so bad that I went to my doctor and had some blood work done. Darn me! Everything came back fine. I'm stressed, he tells me. I've got a lot on my plate. So, I started taking a multivitamin.
There is something about a vitamin that is very reassuring. It's like you know that the horse pill (did I mention the sheer size of these things?) has got your back. There has got to be something in there that goes to just the right place in your body to get things back on track.
Now if only I could remember to take the darn pill, oh, and also where I put the jar.

Mudd and the Mess

2007-12-22T22:42:00.000-08:00

Children learn so much by just watching us participate in activities and chores that we may consider thoughtless and mind numbing. Chores like cleaning the windows, for example. Mudd loves to watch me clean the windows. Costco has this fabulous window cleaner that you apply much like a can of hairspray. An aerosol window cleaner... I'm telling you, my windows have never looked cleaner.
Mudd watches me clean those windows and I know he is just itching to participate. But I really don't want him to get too comfortable around cleaning supplies so I tell him that he's just a little too little to do windows. But I know he doesn't like that answer.
Today Baby Wiz was crying and I stepped into the other room for a quick second to grab the babe. Mudd was happily playing with cars in the den so I figured that all was quiet on the eastern front. Maybe a little too quiet...
When I came back in with Baby Wiz, Mudd was wiping the windows clean (or shall I say dirty?) with PAM. The cleaning supplies were locked up, but not the cooking spray.
Do you want fries with that?

Mudd's Haircut and Momma's Regrets

2007-12-18T21:13:00.000-08:00

Mudd has always been known for his beautiful curly blonde mop. It was pretty much a trademark. Notice the past tense. Big D said that the hair was always getting in Mudd's eyes....
This poor second child was given a "trim" by daddy of his bangs that made my precious boy look like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. It was BAD.
I tried to let Mudd grow into the mullet (business in the front, party in the rear!) but it just didn't seem fair. So, we decided to give him a real haircut. But, perhaps we got carried away and now we've got a marine on our hands.
I wish that I didn't regret the decision, but I SO do. How long does hair take to grow back anyway?

Holiday Spirit

2007-12-17T19:51:00.000-08:00

We were at this fabulous outdoor mall because it was a glorious, albeit chilly (a crisp sixty five) day. I picked Jam up from school and decided to run a few errands while the little ones slept soundly at home with the sitter. I knew I was feeding into Jam's Christmas spirit, but I figured with Hanukkah over, more holiday fun couldn't hurt anyone. I told him before we parked that we were going to run errands and we weren't picking up any toys. He was a real sport about it. After eight days of gifts, even he knew that he was completely oversaturated with the "I want it, I need it, I love it" toys of the moment (or minute, or worse even!) He wanted to play at Pottery Barn. They've got a clever little table of firehouses and dollhouses to wrangle all the kiddos and then let them know that "all this could be yours!" Jam was inching over to a kiddy table and chairs that was partially occupied by a bossy girl in Juicy and her equally subservient friend. "Put this here, do this, like this." I knew that Jam was in for some trouble. He brought a blender (wooden, no noise) over to the empty part of the table and very quietly began playing. This little chick grabbed the blender and said "no, no, no, this doesn't belong here." I hate intervening because it is important for children to learn lessons on their own, but Jam looked so forlorn. "Excuse me," I said to Juicy "but we can make room at the table for the blender because you need a blender to cook, don't you?" She paused and then said "I guess so." So, Jam sat back down and was happy as a clam. Where was Juicy's mom? Right next to me watching the entire thing. Figures.....

The Holiday Season...bring it!

2007-12-16T20:17:00.000-08:00

It's official. My son is obsessed with Christmas. You've got to admit. The tree, the lights, the wreath, the shimmer, not to mention a jolly fat man and his reindeer. There is just one slight problem. We're Jewish. Jam has been bugging me incessantly to set up the tree. "Today, mommy? Are we getting the tree today?" What follows is an explanation to the effect of "although we don't have a tree, we have this great holiday with lots of lights and toys, did I mention toys?" But he's not budging. Hanukkah has become this great big consolation prize, and Jam ain't happy. The day before Hanukkahh, we went to the market to buy Hanukkah cookies and the wonderful man that manages the bakery at Albertsons informed us that the Hanukkah cookies are due to arrive around Christmas time. But, "Hanukkah is tomorrow," we politely informed him. His reply? "We do have some nice kosher Christmas cookies, though." I went to check out the kosher selection. Wouldn't you know it? A sparkly Santa, a glittery tree, and hopping reindeer that all the nice observant Jewish boys and girls could eat because they are sporting a big Orthodox Union Kosher certification. Go, Maccabees! As for Jam, when he asked me for a tree yet again, I explained that he got some great gifts for Hanukkah. To which he said "But Santa forgot to bring a tree." Oy, we've got some work to do.

Time Flies...

2006-08-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

This summer is just flying by and my little guys are getting so big. After a thoroughly exhausting "vacation" to Hawaii, we are just settling back into our routine of being home. It isn't easy to travel with young'uns and I've got the utmost respect for those of you who do it often and make it look so easy....oh, it's far from easy!!!
Now Mudd is nine months old and he hasn't slowed down a second. Jam is super talkative and turning three....wowo! Man, they're such a trip. I love motherhood.

I Can't ...

2006-06-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

Jam has started saying this new thing that just cracks me up. If he doesn't want to do something, he looks at me and he says "I can't like that." If I ask him to help me clean up the books, he says "I can't like it."

There are lots of things I can't like too...

It's a Karma Thing...

2006-06-19T20:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was driving with the boys and I had to run an errand. I found a clutch front parking spot. I signaled, drove up to back into the spot. As I was backing up I noticed that someone had snuck into the spot. What the @#$%? I gave a honk or two and signaled with my hands that I was backing into the spot. The woman woudn't budge. I honked some more, but I finally decided that the whole thing wasn't worth it. Yes, I was certainly annoyed, but it's a karma thing. I'm in no way hoping that a bad thing falls upon woman in Escalade, but she should watch her back because someone slimy may steal her spot in the near future. That's just how the planets are alligned. Jam said "it's okay, Mommy." And I said "you are so right, buddy." And then Mudd laughed....that is one wise old soul!

Jam's Lipstick

2006-06-12T20:49:00.000-07:00

Jam has been walking around the house with his lipstick (aka chapstick). I know that it's buggin Big D that his son is moseying around saying "where is my lipstick? I need it now!"

Scene: We were in the playroom and we were playing with his tool set. I was like the sous-carpenter.
"Hammer." That would be my cue to hand it to him.
"Screwdriver." Gotcha.
"Pliers."
"Lipstick."

Gotta love my son...

Shout out to Baby Celebs

2006-06-07T19:10:00.000-07:00

So, I'm flipping through US Weekly (it's an embarassing habit and I'm admitting it so long as you promise not to pass on the info that snucked in between The New Yorker and Vanity Fair is the slim pickings of a mag with way more photos than copy..I know, I know)...and they feature all of the celebs who recently had babies in the past month or so. Gwen had baby Kingston, and Angelina had Shiloh. They were preceeded in birth by Brooke's daughter, Grier and TomKat's production named Suri. Mudd's got a lot of friends to meet and playdate with at the various LA kiddie stomping grounds. They could share a swing at the Malibu Country Mart, or a stroll down Main Street during the Farmer's Market...I'll look for the telltale Bugaboo the next time we're out walking. We prefer hanging out sans entourage, if that's alright.

Mudd Walks and Jam Talks...

2006-06-05T21:04:00.000-07:00

Jam has been narrating everything. We went to the park and Jam let me know that we talk way too much about the whole potty thing. Two olders kids yelled that they were going to the bathroom and when they came back to the swings Jam started clapping, "yay, you made a poop in the potty." I was mortified. Thankfully, the kids were good sports. I'm kinda letting the potty thing figure itself out. Which means that I haven't really been pushing it, and The Wiggles undies are getting nice and cozy in the bottom drawer where they NEVER see the light of day. (Any advice would be greatly appreciated, PS)
Mudd decided to make his presence known by standing up today. We were all sitting in the playroom and I turned around and the big little guy was looking down at me like "what? I've been doing this for years." It was wild...and scary too. My boys are growing up...(sniff).

Brangelina for Tots...

2006-06-03T21:26:00.000-07:00

Jam loves his catalogs. We got a couple in the mail yesterday and he has been in heaven all weekend. He carries them around with him and points to the various toys that we either have, or don’t need (a slip n’ slide…old school, I know) and says “want that, want this.” Oh, Jam. Thou shall not covet Target’s toys.
He’s also fascinated with the names of the children in the ads. Normally, I go with the all out classic names when he asks me “What’s the name?” Things like: Luke, William, Aidan, Grace, Ava. But today, I was absolutely stumped. He asked me “What’s his name?” So I said Tom. The girl’s name became Katie, the other girl was Angelina, then came Brad…. I hate to expose my son to Hollywood at such an innocent and carefree age, but that’s what happens when you live in LA. Next thing I know, he'll be driving his Little Tikes up to the Ivy valet...this could get ugly.

Ode to Mudd (as he nears the seven month mark)

2006-06-01T19:42:00.000-07:00

Mudd is jumping like crazy. He's a big kid and the crown molding is whimpering. But the jumper is so much fun. Because when you're almost seven months old it feels good to stand in place and shake that bootay, especially on a full stomach (which is almost all the time!) Okay, no fat jokes, Mudd...
We love you, our (big) little man.

A bird in the hand…

2006-05-30T21:40:00.000-07:00

A family of sparrows decided to make their home on top of our nice, toasty dryer vent. It’s quite amazing how they managed to build an intricate home given the uneven sloping of the vent. They persisted day after day, as mountains of their refuse (okay, a euphemism for bird crap) lay in our backyard. Big D suggested that it may be wise to move the nest, as it was looking not in the least bit sturdy and one of these days it was just going to collapse. I didn’t want to intervene with nature. They were working so darn hard and who was I to clue them in on the fact that danger was imminent. Well, Big D was right, something did in fact happen. Yesterday one of the little baby birds fell out of the nest. I noticed it as I was leaving with the boys. The bird was still breathing, but just lay there looking so despondent. I quickly put it into a Tupperware (I couldn’t find a shoebox) because that seemed like a sensible thing to do. I then took the boys to the park but I couldn’t help but think of that little bird. I didn’t know what the next step would be. When we got home, the bird was still there. I wanted to feed it, but Big D was right: unless I could eat a worm and regurgitate it, I wasn’t going to do much good for this little guy. I called Petco thinking that a pet store might be of some help…not so much. I called ASPCA but they were closed. I was running out of ideas and fast. I needed to help, I wanted to help, I had to help. My maternal instinct was kicking into overdrive. I made Big D borrow a ladder from our neighbor, Paul, and he put on gloves and put the bird back in the nest (Okay, this isn’t completely true. His first attempt resulted in the Momma bird trying to swat his hand away, so Big D actually dropped the bird…but no harm was done. The bird was okay). Was this the right thing to do? I’m not really sure. I wish they could give me a sign that all has ended peacefully but alas, there is no wrap up segment in this reality show called “life.”

So Nice

2006-05-28T20:46:00.000-07:00

Today was just a gorgeous long weekend weather day. We headed to the beach and although it took quite a while to get organized (Big D waited at the front door with the two boys as I frantically filled up the Petunia Pickle Bottom), we ended up spending the afternoon at the beach all by ourselves. Okay, not even close. We were there with like five million other Angelenos that all had the same idea as us. Although it was ridiculously crowded, it was still really fun. Mudd covered his toes in the sand and Jam ran around following the older kids. He calls them all "boys." He chases them and says "boys, come back!" The younger girls roll their eyes, I don't think that they appreciate the nickname so much. I even got a little bit of sun, and I know that my white legs appreciated the attention.
Update on Friday's post: While we were reading our bedtime books, I took Gabriela's advice and said "Jam, let's take the ice cream out and eat it." He looked at me as if I were absolutely mad and said "Mom, it's a book." I have no idea what changed from yesterday to today, but abstract concepts no longer!

Abstract Concepts

2006-05-26T19:47:00.000-07:00

Upon reading bedtime stories to Jam, I've noticed something very interesting. Either he has a tremendous imagination, or he's having a slight bit of a problem with the whole book thing. We were reading a book about a train and there was a big photograph of a train heading right towards us. Jam yelled in my ear "Watch out, the train is coming." Okay, that wasn't so strange. Next book had tons of pics of food. He pointed to a girl eating an ice cream cone and he began "I want that, I want that now, take it out." I'm explained to him that it was just a picture, and he was not going to take it out of the page to eat it. He didn't like that. He turned the page. There were jelly beans. Okay, note to self, I've got to find a different bedtime book. This was getting ridiculous. "I want that, take it out." Hmm...not again. Mudd sighed...I'm totally with you, buddy.

Drainage...

2006-05-25T21:04:00.000-07:00

This has been a trying day. Both Mudd and Jam are sick. Mudd has an ear infection and Jam's illness is making itself known in a much more prounounced way. He's got a nasty, phelgmy cough the likes of which Robitussin doesn't want to touch and a runny nose that no amount of Kleenex want to plug. Mudd is in good spirits. He loves the taste of the antibiotics and cries when he's had his teaspoonful. What can I say? The kid's got a sophisticated pallette.
Hoping tomorrow brings less snot and more smiles...

What the....???

2006-05-24T22:11:00.000-07:00

Today I was riding the elevator with Mudd. We needed silverware and I wanted to hit Bloomie's for the pre-sale. Pre-sales are fabulous, by the way. Kind of strange in that you could really just wait a day, but there is something so fulfilling about buying it before it goes on sale.
Speaking of houseware, I so wish that you could register for wedding presents not when you get married because you really don't know what's flying then anyway, but after you've been married for say five years. That way, you are getting something that you need and could actually use, plus it could be a way for people to celebrate the fact that you are indeed still married and thus utilizing said gifts.
Anyway, about the elevator... Some youngish man walked in and I was holding Mudd because he was fussy and the silverware was resting comfortably in the Peg. The man looks me up and down (this is LA, this is what people do) and then said "is your son going to have a sibling anytime soon?" WHAT THE @#$!% I run like five miles every day, I don't think that I look pregnant AT ALL. It could have been this guy's way of making conversation by: a. asking intimate details about my sexual life or b. calling me fat. Either way, I was beyond peeved. What is with people, I mean really???

Word Game....can you dig it?

2006-05-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, so Rachelle has challenged me to a word game. Come up with 9 words all starting with the letter “G” that tell a little bit about me. Because I am unnecessarily competitive, I have been given the extra task of making them 3 nouns, 3 verbs, and 3 adjectives.

Here is what I’ve come up with:

1. Go-Cart: Kind of random but I’ve always wanted to ride one. They seem fun in a Napolean Complex kinda way. It’s not big, nor fast, but still calls my name.
2. Golf: I so don’t play golf. Big D does and I’ve always wanted to learn. One time he took me to the driving range. I wasn’t that hot. The sport is way overrated.
3. Gabe: This is a name I really love. But Big D has nixed it as a name for either one of our boys because “I knew a Gabe growing up….” Doesn’t that just bite that one Gabe ruined the name for any and all future offspring?
4. Going: I love to be on the move. It is totally my fault that Jam inherited this trait. Big D is content just kicking it at home and I get cabin fever from the moment I wake up in the morning.
5. Gabbing: Yup, I’ve got the gift of gab. I love to talk. Is there anything really wrong with that?
6. Guffaw: This is just a fun word. I had to include it. Guffaw, you know you want to.
7. Glad: No, not the trash bags. But, I want to know why trash bags are glad anyway? Is the trash really all that happy?
8. Great: It’s great to be great, to do great things, meet great people, great.
9. Green: It’s a fabulous color. My favorite color M&M. What does that say about me? I’m not envious, nor greedy…I just like the color. It’s vibrant. Vibrant is a word I absolutely would have chosen. But, alas, it doesn’t start with the letter G.

Paula or Paul?

2006-05-22T19:52:00.000-07:00

One of our neighbors is a very cool thirty something Harley riding kinda guy. He sports a shaved head, tattoos wrapped around his huge chest and neck, and loves to blare really loud rap music as he parks his Range or Beemer in the driveway and escorts yet another lovely new lady to his abode with its pimped out coy fish pond and built-in stainless steel Bar-be-que. In other words, this guy is the @#$$! He exudes coolness, the kind of cool that people spend their entire lives trying to find sheer glimmers of. It's amazing how not cool Big D and I feel as said neighbor hosts a rager as Big D helps me take in the groceries. One day, Jam asked me what our neighbor's name is. As some of you may recall, Jam is big into learning people's names and this is a name I happen to know..."Paul." The name fits him. Very masculine...Paul is the kind of guy that rides a harley or a chromed out BMW convertible. The funny thing? Jam thinks I said "Paula" and I never bothered to correct him. It is so damn funny to see Paul ride off on his motorcycle and for little Jam to say "Paula's on a bike." Or for Paul to play his rap music with the bass going full blast and cause Jam to say "C'mon, Paula." He is SO not a Paula.

Not Ready to Say Goodbye...

2006-05-21T20:04:00.000-07:00

I'm not a big TV watcher. Unlike my TV junkie husband, I'd so much rather read a book. But somehow, I became addicted to Desperate Housewives. I can't help myself. It's raunchy, soapy, but it's lured me in and now I'm hooked. So, that's why tonight is going to be hard. I'm not ready to say goodbye to all of my looney friends on Wisteria Lane. Next season seems like ages away. I'm desperately seeking susan, I mean, solace. As Jam says "see ya."

Stroller Issues...

2006-05-20T21:15:00.000-07:00

Mudd isn't digging the stroller so much anymore. When he was just a couple of months old, he didn't love it and I could easily Bjorn him. Then one day he decided that life was pretty fun in the Perego. I was so grateful that he was finally enjoying the ride. I took in the fresh air and appreciated the walk in peace. And then today he decided he really doesn't like the stroller after all. My only problem is that he is way to big for a front carrier, and I don't want to carry him on my back because I might feel like the Sherpa of Beverly Hills. C'mon, Mudd. Work with me here. I have issues with knots and I don't think that I'd be able to handle a sling. Big D is a mean swaddler but I had some issues with the whole thing.
It's like wrapping gifts. When I was in college, I was a cashier at a retail store around the Holidays. Every time someone would ask for a gift wrapped, my palms would get sweaty because I knew that wasn't my bag. I convinced the manager that it would be much more efficient to have a gift wrapping table where one employee would wrap all of the gifts. When she agreed to my plan, I knew that I was off the hook. That was, until the day I was chosen to work at that table...
So, Mudd, whaddya think about giving the crawl a college try?

Library or Lakeshore...

2006-05-19T17:49:00.000-07:00

Today I took the boys to the library. It's only a few blocks from my house and it seemed like a good, wholesome activity. Jam was having a grand ol' time picking out some glossy picture books. Mudd was content watching his brother mull over the choices. "Yummy, Yucky" or "No, David." Yup, life is tough when you're two and half and haven't a care in the world...except whether or not you get a cookie for snack and a clean diaper after a nap. When he finally picked out the chosen four, we made our way over to the checkout. That's where they have the "current" bestsellers...I grabbed three books on a whim and kept my fingers crossed that they were good. I miss those days where I could mull over my book choices at the library, sit in a nice, plush chair and read a few chapters in peace...After we got home and took baths, it was time to read our books. Or so I thought. I started to read our first pick. Jam said "no, thank you. I want that one."
He was pointing to a stack of catalogs in the corner. "That one" was the Lakeshore (developmental toys) catalog. Aside from the fact that it's super thick (I hate to be one of those moms that decides whether to read a book at night to their child depending on the length...but I'm just so tired of marathon picture book sessions), I wasn't sure how a Lakeshore catalog counted as a book. I picked it up and we began to go through it. Every single page....every paint brush, scissors, and crayon. Even Mudd yawned at the tediousness of it all. Remind me why we went to the library again? Who really needs books when you have catalogs calling your name?

Cooking For Dummies

2006-05-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

I so appreciate a fabulous home cooked meal. I learned how to cook when I got married. I managed to survive college on takeout and generous roommates. I just didn’t really have an interest in it, to be honest. When I got married, I felt like I owed it to Big D to learn. But, in the first year of our marriage, my mother happily provided us with leftovers ala carte. She’s a great cook, so that arrangement worked well. When Big D and I hosted our first dinner party, my grandmother and mother did all of the cooking and that was all fine and good until my savvy guests asked me on the spot how I made certain dishes. I hadn’t a clue, and I didn’t even know enough to fake it. My answer: “Who wants another martini?” Maybe if I got them good and drunk, they wouldn’t notice. After that night, I realized that I had to get serious. I whipped out the cookbooks I received from my wedding and got cooking (literally). The most amazing part was that I wasn’t that bad. Okay, so there have been quite a few mishaps from then until now, but the overall result is healthy and slightly sophisticated fare ala Cooking Light and Williams Sonoma. I’m thinking about all of this having just made a peach bread pudding. The pungent aroma is beckoning me from the oven in its semi-cooked glory. I guess my problem with cooking, and everything in general is that I crave instant gratification. Having to marinate something overnight just kills me. You could imagine how I felt my entire nine months plus of pregnancy with both of my boys. There’s so much waiting. I have no patience. Who wants a piece of bread pudding?

Hey Look....A Friend!

2006-05-17T22:31:00.000-07:00

Mudd is transforming every day from helpless infant to confidant tot with a swagger to boot! He's just getting comfortable in his skin. Now that he's sitting up, he's exploring the world in a whole new way. He grabs on tight to things that interest him, and then drops them shamelessly when they've become yesterday's news. And Jam is totally picking up on the fact that Mudd is actually interesting to him. Jam runs up to him and plants pecks all over his face, tries to jam a bottle in Mudd's mouth, and holds his hand when they are sitting in the playroom. It's like one day Jam looked around and decided "I've got a friend in this house, cool...." Mudd is happy as could be with this new arrangement. I have visions of them as teenagers...and it scares me. Every time they both look at me and grin, I know that I'm in for a wild ride indeed.

Separation Anxiety

2006-05-16T20:08:00.000-07:00

Yep, Mudd's got it. He's going through that "hold me now, don't let me go" phase which is amazingly rewarding and extremely frustrating all the same. Who doesn't love feeling loved? After months of giving, giving, giving, Mudd is finally affirming to all that "hey, I kinda dig this woman." And yes, why lie, that's a mighty good thing. BUT, Mudd, now that you've let me know how much you appreciate me, could you let me leave the room for just a second? You've got all those cool toys and rattles to entertain you, and I promise it'll just be a second. Why can't I have that delectable, frosty strawberry shortcake and eat it too? Is there anything really wrong with that?

What's in Your Basket?

2006-05-15T19:55:00.000-07:00

I love Costco. It is just so much fun. Everything is oversized, from the massive parking lot to the gargantuan carts. It's like Disneyland for grownups and it is just good shameless fun. As I walked through the aisles today grabbing lots of things I don't need but just seem too cheap to pass by, I gleamed with my adoration and devotion to this place. A half an hour and a full cart later, I waited in line in front of an older man who commented on every single thing that I took out of my basket to pay for.
I mean, we really all do the same thing. Shopping carts are just beckoning for people to come and take a look, and yet, grocery shopping is one of the more personal kinds of shopping out there. Theoretically, you could be nursing a bad case of hemmorhoids that you really don't want to talk about, and yet, you put Preparation H in your basket and it's there for everyone to see. There are so many things that you might need, but are slightly embarassed to buy should you run into your neighbor or mother. I wondered about the man who exited Costco with me, and all he bought was a bag of bananas. How could you go to Costco and only get one thing, and why bananas? Or there was the teenager with a cart full of cranbery juice. What's her story? I'm so tempted to ask, and yet, I hate when I'm confronted by strange, although well intentioned people looking through my bounty. We're curious creatures, but can't I buy my five hundred rolls of toilet paper in peace?

Happy Mother's Day...

2006-05-14T20:26:00.000-07:00

Last night was pretty fun, okay, hardly, but it's Mother's Day and I'm trying to find that positive aura. The boys were having a hard time adjusting to the new digs. I knew that they would come around eventually but change is hard, even if it'll do you (or them) good. Jam was doing okay but Mudd was having the more difficult time of it all. At about one in the morning, Mudd was calling for me in that delicious way six month olds know best...the shriek. I couldn't let him cry for long because I worried that the new surroundings were exactly what was doing him in. I pictured him looking around and thinking "What the #@$!" It's like when you are on vacation and you wake up from your slumber and you look around and are completely disoriented until you breathe in the magnificent aroma that is 8,000 threadcount sheets and a pure down comforter...You're annoyed that you feel lost but then once you regain your composure and sit down to a glass of fresh squeezed OJ it's all good.
Mudd's going to get to that place with his new room. It's just a matter of time.

Moving On Up...

2006-05-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday and today have been very busy indeed. Big D and I have moved Jam out of his toddler bed into a very fabulous loft bed. The only problem with the bed that I ordered was that I failed to take measurements and thus, when Big D came home from work to assemble it, it didn't fit in Jam's room where I thought that it might. So, we swapped Jam's room with Mudd's and this involved a ton of work that I didn't forsee, and an excited but slightly leery Jam. "New room AND new bed?"

Mudd was really easy going about the whole thing, then again, he's only six months old. So, I know that you aren't supposed to introduce too many changes to a two year old, less they get overwhelmed and tantrum out on you. But Jam was being way too cool about the whole thing. He begged Big D to take eighteen naps (he LOVES the number eighteen...everything is always eighteen) in it...this coming from a kid who will do anything to avoid the nap. We read our goodnight books in Jam's new room (aka Mudd's room) and that is when I noticed that maybe the novelty was wearing off because Jam didn't look too excited about the prospect of going to bed...at all.

We put his toddler bed under the loft, and this was more of a logistical thing because Big D didn't want to carry it up into the attic. But now it seemed like Jam wanted to hang out a while longer in his old bed. I looked at the new bed with the fabulous Pottery Barn fishy sheets and down comforter and was tempted to set up camp there tonight. When we set up the bed, Jam picked his favorite stuffed animals and those were the ones that made the cut. The other unlucky fellows stayed below in the old bed. I was feeling sorry for the pig, cat and puppy. I mean, what did the funky looking octopus have on them anyway? But now, Jam was feeling a little apprehensive and he called out the big (and little)dogs. He grabbed all of his forgotten pals and and carried them up to his new bed...only then was he ready to call it a night.

Night Out

2006-05-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

A lot of our friends with kids have been telling us how important it is to make time sans little ones...a date night of sorts. Considering that my life is filled with ABC'S and Twinkle, Twinkles, I thought that it was high time that Big D and I got on the bandwagon. We did it, we partied like rock stars. Okay, maybe we just went out for sushi but when you haven't been out in eons, it feels like walking the red carpet. It was absolutely luxurious! We got a babysitter and we may turn this into a weekly affair.
Walking into the sushi bar without the little guys in tow felt sinfully sweet. I held Big D's hand but I felt strange, not bad strange, but strange nonetheless. As I licked my lips to put the perfectly wrapped seaweed into my mouth, I heard something eerily familiar. My spicy salmon roll tumbled from my lips. Yes, it was definitely what I thought it was....a cry, coming from a one year old at the table next to us. Now, here I am constantly preaching tolerance and wishing that everyone loved kids as much as me... I love all children BUT, and here's the caveat: when you are out on a date with your significant other, and you spend every waking moment with your precious littles, are you allowed to shudder JUST A LITTLE when you hear a fussy baby? I hope so, cuz I certainly did. I couldn't help myself.

What's Inside?

2006-05-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

Lately, Jam is obsessed with the insides of things. He holds up a book.
"What's inside?"
"Pages."
He points to the computer.
"What's inside?"
"A Hard drive, wires..."
He points to the fridge.
"What's inside?"
"Fruit, vegetables, chicken."
Then he finds my diaper bag. Big D has been on me to clean the thing out because it is filled to the brim with all sorts of things Jam and Mudd might need if we're out at the park. I swear, I pack that thing so full you might wonder if I was doing an overnight excursion to the desert, with supplies for twenty. And then it starts...
"What's inside"
"Hmm, lot's of stuff."
"Like what?"
"Too much stuff."
"Too much stuff?" (He's into repeating me these days).
"Yup, way, way too much stuff."
He starts to peer in and a packet of tissues tumbles out...then my wallet, and Jam's sippy cup, which subsequently starts leaking. What's up with these spill proof tumblers anyway...aside from the massive spillage?
"Mommy, it's clean up time."
C'mon Jam, cut me some slack! I start to clean up. The "What's Inside" game has busted me tonight.
Jam 1
Momma 0

That's mine...and so is that...

2006-05-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I would just love to get inside of Jam's brain so that I could understand the two year old psyche in all of its glory...mainly, though, to grapple with the phenomeneon known simply as "mine."
It was one of Jam's first words and it became more pronounced when he started preschool, and it got sharpened at the various parks around town, and at playgroups as well. To be fair, Jam is a pretty good sharer(of course, he'll share and then push you, but that's a whole other story!!!) but he really thinks that it's Jam's world. Case in point: at the park today Jam and Mudd were sitting in the sand happily playing with shovels and pails and making a grand old mess. All of a sudden, Jam noticed that someone was on the swings.
"Mommy, my swing, that's mine."
"Uh...no, it really isn't. We are at the park. That swing belongs to everyone."
"Mine."
I don't even know why I try to reason with the wrath that is the terrible twos. Luckily, though, Jam didn't have the energy in him to tell me more about "his" swing. He went back to playing with Mudd until he noticed someone going down the slide.
"My slide."
Here we go again...
"That's everyone's slide. We are at the park."
"Mine."
It's got to be cool to be Jam. Everything is yours. Imagine having this mentality while you're out shopping. Walk past Tiffany and Co..
"Mine."
Proceed on to Cartier...
"Mine."
And then head east to Barney's...
"Mine, all mine."
Wait, I already do this. Maybe Jam and I really aren't that different after all.

Not so Kid Crazy...

2006-05-09T20:18:00.000-07:00

I admit, I am totally momma-centric. That is, my day to day life pretty much revolves around my kids and all that this entails. When Jam says "bar-be-que" in that oh so cute way, making it sound like "bahbeeshoot," I'm absolutely smitten. When Mudd squeals with delight as he sits up proudly, I fall more and more in love with him. But sometimes I'm reminded that not everyone has that maternal instinct...the one that makes grown women goo to make your infant son laugh as you're waiting in line at the grocery store. Not everyone looks at your double stroller and then utters a variation of "so cute." I hate to break it to you, but there are people in this world that just don't love your kids as much as you think. It isn't you, it isn't your kids, it's kids in general. Not everyone has the mommy bone, and you just can't take it personally.
Today we were riding in a big glass elevator. "Up and down," Jam kept saying. The elevator wasn't busy, so I let Jam have his fun. I don't particularly love elevators, as Big D can attest, but when your kids are having fun, you'll do just about anything to keep them happy. A woman got on the elevator during one of our many trips from G to 6, and I made sure that there was plenty of room for her. She asked me if I was getting out and I explained with a laugh that we were just riding the elevator to nowhere in particular (actually somewhere between G and 6, but who's counting?) She didn't acknowledge me, let alone look at Jam or Mudd. She just got in, shuffled her toes, and got out at 4.
She could have been having a bad day. But this wasn't the first time something like this has happened. And when it happens, you can't take it personally. It's not YOUR kids that aren't cute...it's ALL kids. I always think that I can change these people, and I engage them and challenge them to say something, anything...but sometimes my efforts prove futile...

Talking Fish...

2006-05-08T19:33:00.000-07:00

Every so often, Big D will ask me questions about the various television programming directed towards children and why some things just make no sense. Maybe someone could help me out here, because in trying to answer him, I am actually at a loss for words (this rarely happens, as my friends can attest). These are some of the actual questions Big D has posed to me:

In Jam's beloved "Thomas and Friends," how can trains have a gender?
In "Finding Nemo," why don't the fish living in Australia have accents?
In "Finding Nemo," how do the fish learn how to tell time?
In "The Wiggles," why does the dinosaur speak but not the dog?
In "JoJo's Circus," why does JoJo have a lion for a pet and a frog as a friend?
In "Charlie and Lola," where are Charlie and Lola's parents?

Hmm...

They're laughing at us...

2006-05-07T19:59:00.000-07:00

We were all straining to get a glimpse of them. They were frolicking about, wading in the water, sunbathing on the warm rocks and just taking in the day. It was very crowded and they had quite an audience. Most of them didn't pay us any attention, as I'm sure that they were very used to being bothered. Jam and Mudd were peering out of the Urban Double with the sunshade that kept them deliciously shady, and made the stroller seem that much more cumbersome and overwhelming. We were getting pushed about some because we were taking up a ton of room. We situated ourselves at the ape exhibit although my eyes wandered to the next exhibit over because it was empty, and I longed to look at the gazelles instead. Gazelles don't exactly have the same cache to a two year old, not like apes, anyway. Jam wouldn't hear of it. "Apes, Mommy, look."
I was looking at the apes but I wasn't impressed. I knew that they were mocking us. "We really aren't that different, you and I," the big ape was saying. His wife put the kiddos on her back and moved to a rock that blocked our view. We were like the paparrazi gathering photos for the all time stupidest page in US Weekly, "Stars, they're just like us." You know, the page where they catch celebrities doing "normal" and "everyday" things like sneezing, drinking coffee et al. Uhh, yea..they're just people, people. These apes were looking at us and thinking "give us a break."
I so wanted to leave, but the boys were loving the spectacle, or lack thereof. Finally, the Momma ape had enough bothering for one day. She angled over to us, and then turned around and stuck her bottom in our faces. You go girl!

Phantom Cries

2006-05-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

The other day I was reading an article in the NY Times about people that talk on their cellphones so often that they hear their cellphones ringing even when they are off. I admit, this has happened to me. I was walking the boys the other day, and no one else was around (so it wasn't someone elses phone ringing) and I swear I thought I heard my cell phone ring, but nope, it was silent as could be. As I checked the phone and deftly dropped it back in the Petunia Pickle Bottom, I had a "just kidding" moment. As in "just kidding, that didn't just happen."

Last night, I was pretty distraught when I heard a piercing scream at three in the morning, for a couple of reasons: It means that the sleep training isn't exactly working, I was wide awake and worried Mudd wouldn't fall back asleep, and Big D was snoring away which made everything that much more unbearable. I quickly got up to check on Mudd, even though I knew that I couldn't pick him up right away. I peeked in his room and he was silent as could be. Jam was sound asleep in the next room. Then I heard the cry again, but this time it sounded like a sharp shriek. It was actually coming from our bedroom. Sometimes Big D sleeptalks, but this is ridiculous. I went back into my room, and again heard nothing. This game was getting extremely vexsome and I was losing precious sleep and possibly going insane. Then I heard it again. But this time it sounded more like more cat and less colic. I looked outside the window and witnessed a bonafide cat fight ala Denise and Heather. I rolled my eyes and got back in bed. Feline fury, what's a girl to do?

What's in a name?

2006-05-05T18:12:00.000-07:00

Kids are so funny because when they are really young, an adult (especially a parent) is the absolute authority on just about everything. It's crazy because Jam will ask me questions and he doesn't question my prompt answers because he assumes that I know what I am talking about. I love that! Lately he is fascinated with people's names. When we go to the park, he asks me "what's her name?" This is fairly easy to answer because the two of us (actually three, Mudd is usually in tow) will walk over to said girl and ask for her name. But now this name game has been coming up all over the place. We will be walking down the street and Jam will peer out of his stroller and point at someone across the street and down the block and say "what's his name?" Since I can't really find out, I used to say "I'm not sure." But Jam didn't like that answer. "C'mon, Mommy, tell me" he would plead. I hate to disappoint. So, I said "Jim," I have no idea why. It was just the first name that I thought of. You're probably shaking your head with disapproval. I know, I know, it's never a good idea to lie to a child. But so what if Jam thinks man walking dog #1 is named Jim, and woman shopping for groceries #2 is named Sally? They are extras in this movie we call life and it's high time somebody gave them names.

Reality Show Junkie

2006-05-04T19:24:00.000-07:00

No, not me...Big D has got a severe case of reality-itis. It's getting ugly, because the shows are getting more and more absurd. Big D has the ability to quintuple task and so, there is always a reality tv show playing while he is working on the computer late at night.
I'm a snob. I love to read. I cannot be bothered by the mindless drivel that makes its way onto our Tivo each night. Okay, I admit that I use the Tivo occasionally to catch up on Desperate Housewives, a guilty pleasure that I know is far from sophisticated. Oprah also loves to make an appearance and show her face. But what is all this about Real World (c'mon Big D, that was cool in high school!), The Apprentice, Laguna Beach, The Amazing Race...you get the picture...? I would so much rather curl up with the latest bestseller and read until my eyelids get droopy and then close the book and call it a night.
Big D isn't a reader. I once showed him an article from the NY Times Magazine which claims that watching TV requires a great degree of concentration, often times more than reading, because plots have become increasingly more complex and developed. Okay, I have a hard time buying that...because these shows that find their way onto our television screen are getting increasingly more ridiculous. Big D is into a show that follows around the manager of a used car dealership. The premise, you ask? There isn't one. There is even a show called Reality Show Wrap Up....No joke. Big D, it's time to drop the remote...and then nobody is going to get hurt.

Farm Girl

2006-05-03T19:31:00.000-07:00

I am completely and utterly addicted to the Farmer's Markets that roll through town all week long. In the beginning, I just went to one fairly close to my house on Sunday mornings. Before Mudd was born, I would put Jam in the jogger very early in the am and trek over there for my fix of organic fruits and veggies. Now that I've got two, I buckle them both in and head out. The problem is that I found out about another open air market held on Tuesday, another on Wednesday, and one on Thursday. Lately, I've been hitting them all. I certainly don't need that much fruit in the house, but I'm having a hard time not seeing the super friendly and smiling faces greeting me as I hand over 2 bucks for 3 corns, even though I can get 8 corns for 2 bucks (husk included- I find that supremely authentic) at Pavillions any day of the week. It's just that these guys seem super happy to see me and the kids, offer up a free sample, talk about the weather and how it's affecting the crops (I love that! Being an Angeleno born and bred, I never ever hear anyone talking about their crops!), and then grin again for good measure. Some of the open air markets even have pony rides which, if either of my children showed any interest in, could be a very fun activity I urge you to check out.
Yesterday there was a new woman there selling baby outfits that were so chic in a homemade grandma sort of way. Mudd was asleep and I didn't want to bother him to check if this luscious chenille drool bib would fit him. I handed the lady my offering with the plea that if it didn't actually fit (will post pics soon, but Mudd has a pretty big neck...all the more to love!), could I please exchange it for something else next week? Then she did something that in all my years of living in LA, I have never seen anyone do... she told me to keep my payment, and bring it next week if it fit.
Seriously?
I could not believe this woman...kind, gracious, and generous... I actually put the five bucks back in my pocket and I stared at her. "Keep the money? Really?" It wasn't even about the five bucks, it was just that this woman trusted me. And I love her for that. Next week I'll give her the five dollars owed (the bib is so darn cute, with a little room to spare too!) and probably buy a few more too. I love her, I want to keep her in business. Uh oh, this could get expensive...

So Fleeting

2006-05-02T19:37:00.000-07:00

She was so young. Her three children have all lost a mother today. Breast cancer robbed them of a future together...baseball games, first days of school, a Bar Mitzvah only months away...
I stop and look at my two boys and hold them extra close. Suddenly the very things that bothered me only moments earlier have all faded away. I am so lucky. I hug them for a very long time. My heart goes out to the children and husband of an unbelievably amazing woman who left this world far too soon.
I urge you to take a moment to look around you and appreciate everything that you have to be thankful for.
I kiss the boys and sigh.

The Bean

2006-05-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf is somewhat of an obsession to Angelenos. In the same way that In and Out is vehemently west coast, people in this town identify with the "other" coffee place (ie: not Starbucks, and not Peet's- which is more Nor-Cal than So-Cal altogether). This morning I got Mudd and Jam in the ridiculously large but unbelievably comfy Urban Double stroller. I swear, this stroller has been known to save lives. Navigating it over the rough and rugged terrain that is my neighborhood is an absolute breeze. It's just that any people within a ten mile radius from the thing need to step aside to give you room to pass. It can get embarrasing because the hulk takes up way more space then it should...
After our run, we headed on over to the "Bean," as Jam affectionately calls it. Jam loves the Bean and I'm sure Mudd will too, it's only a matter of time. Jam really impressed me today. He's really getting so big. He sat at the table drinking his cocoa and eating a bagel, and I saw a glimpse of him at thirty and boy was that wild! Mudd was in his stroller, and having discovered his feet just moments earlier, he was having a grand old time.
The funny thing about toddlers is that they really have no inner monologue. Jam narrated every single happening at the Bean - who entered the store, what color shirt he/she was wearing, and whether or not said person had a mustache (he's into mustaches these days...) Jam was observing the comings and goings with sheer fasination. "Mommy, lady's putting pepper in coffee.." I explained that it was actually sugar and not pepper that the lady was putting in her coffee. Then the lady came over to our table. "Your kids are really cute," "but I actually put in Splenda, a sugar derivative, I would never use the real thing, I'm watching carbs."
Are you kidding me?

Home Depot v. Toys R US

2006-04-30T19:24:00.000-07:00

Jam is obsessed with tools. I've got four brothers and they aren't particularly handy. Neither is my father, although he seems to think that he is. Big D on the other hand is really into fixing things. He and his father built Jam and Mudd's crib and toddler bed by hand. I don't mean that they ordered it out of a catalog and had it assembled, rather, they cut the wood, sanded it, and did a whole bunch of other stuff I'm not entirely certain of, but the finished product is of such high quality and it looks that way too.
Jam is really into helping his daddy around the house. I bought him a set of pretend tools with this own tool box (more on this later). Jam follows Big D around the house and he knows all of the names of the different tools. Perhaps I am feeding this obsession slightly by reading him "Power Tools" and "Hand Tools" before he goes to bed at night. He loves to look at the different hammers and knows the difference between a mallet and a tack, although I certainly don't. Mudd picks up Jam's tools and Jam says (in his supremely cute two speak kinda way) "that's a wrench."
Here's the deal with the tool box: it is a talking tool box and there are different icons on the front and when you press the hammer button, for example, it says something like "this is a hammer, we use it to hammer in nails." This is all fine and good, although the voice is somewhat irritating and slightly loud, but that I could handle. It's the Home Depot icon that kills me. When you press it, it says "welcome to Home Depot where you can find any tool for any project." Talk about blatant marketing to tots. Big D says it's my fault for buying it, not Home Depot's fault for making the toy (spoken like a true Republican). Nonetheless, my kid loves Home Depot now.
Today, Jam went with his grandparents (Big D's parents) on some errands and to the park. They had to go to Home Depot to pick out some fixtures. Big D's mom told me that when they walked into the store, Jam recognized the Home Depot sign and shouted "Depot!" and then proceeded to clap....like a kid in a candy store, or maybe, a kid at Home Depot.

Baby Styles

2006-04-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

I love it when my little guys exude coolness. It's just so much fun to rock them out in miniature studs. I can see the appeal of a Juicy Couture tracksuit as pricey as it is, so I guess that I'm super fortunate that they don't make them for boys. Boy clothing generally isn't quite as becoming. Girls get tutus, frills, lace and patent leather. Boys get plaid, khakis and stripes...C'mon! In my quest to find clothing that turns Baby Gap on its head without emptying out my pockets, I've started accessorizing. Yesterday, the boys both got fabulous Diesel trucker hats. What is wrong with me???

Bag Lady

2006-04-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

My mom told me that when I was younger, I loved to carry around purses filled to the brim with anything and everything that I would find around the house. To be honest, I'm no packrat but sometimes I'll switch purses and diaper bags and then end up with thirty bags each with their own lip gloss, diapers in various sizes, gum (even though I've got a bad case of TMJ), sunglasses, Luna bars and spare keys. Why I can't just keep everything organized and shift the miscellaneous items as I move from bag to bag is beyond me. I like my stuff. Big D is a neat freak and he doesn't like piles of any sort. Everything has a place, and if it doesn't, then we really don't need it (according to him!)I'm learning to let go of my piles and "stuff," but it ain't easy. What's crazy is how much Jam has inherited this exact trait. He loves carrying things around the house and he collects things in boxes, tupperwares, and bags. Today he took a Huggies box and put a toothpaste box, his toothbrush, and some soap inside of it and just carted it around the house. We have a ridiculous amount of toys to play with, so why he thinks that this Huggies box of goodies is fun is really beyond me...but then again, I'm the recovering bag lady, so am I really one to talk?

How Fast Time Flies...

2006-04-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

I can vividly remember bringing Jam home and being so overwhelmed and underprepared for this whole motherhood thing. As he cried in the middle of the night, and I tried everything possible to soothe him (including making Chamomile tea bottles and gripe water cocktails), I thought that the night would never end. I wanted so badly for Jam to reach the next milestone whether it was sitting up, crawling, or walking. I just couldn't wait. And everyone told me to cherish the moments, as trying as they may be, because they really are fleeting. Now I see what they mean. As Jam sits on the couch intently "reading" his books, Mudd struggles to sit up. His furrowed brow and his pursed lips give way to grunts. I watch him discover his miraculous body and all of its abilities. He moves his fingers and watches his fists move from side to side. This goes so fast...all of it. I want to take it all in and I don't want to forget any of it. Whenever Mudd sits up is fine with me, I'm not in any hurry.

Feeling Smart

2006-04-26T19:21:00.000-07:00

I love to read. I am also a wannabe New Yorker. To my credit, I spent one semester in college at Columbia University and I just adored the city. I would have stayed longer but I was having a problem getting my credits to transfer. I loved hopping on a subway and getting lost downtown. Living in LA, I feed my NY craving by getting The New York Times every morning on my doorstep. There is nothing like getting the kiddies situated and then spreading out the paper so that they can climb all over it as I attempt to pretend to know what is going on in the world. Mudd has taken to grabbing fistfuls of the paper and then ripping them ever so gently. Jam wants to look at the cell phone ads on the back cover, and gets furious when I try to fold up the paper. But, I haven't given up. In the playroom, as the paper is spread out every which way, Jam sits on the very article that I am reading and runs his Hot Wheels along the edge of the columns. Someone suggested that I read the paper online when the kids are napping, or even wait to read the paper at another time, but I love opening up the paper first thing in the morning and seeing how far I can get. It's a little game I play with Jam, Mudd, and my thirsty brain.

The Smell

2006-04-25T19:39:00.000-07:00

Jam is a thumb sucker and blanket loving guy. He didn't choose to attach himself to some plush chenille throw or lovingly handsewn passed down from generation to generation blanket. Instead, he is in love with the thin cloths meant to be used as diapers. They are of such poor quality that they are no longer sold in stores, as they have long been replaced by the thick hospital grade material. We have fifteen and at first I was really excited because it meant that Jam wouldn't get attached to any one in particular, and I always had a couple on standby. There are a few problems with this notion, however. The first being that since they look so raggedy, when Jam drops them on the floor, or they fall out of the stroller, no one even offers them a second glimpse. So, we've lost quite a few this way and when I try to come home and replace them with the nice, freshly folded blankets in his room, he's not interested. Apparently, there is a certain smell that he is looking for which the washed blankets don't have. First I thought that it was the dryer sheets I love and buy in massive quantities at Costco. So, I started washing his blankets sans the yummy fresh breeze scent. Nope, still not interested. Big D thought that it had something to do with the dirt factor. So, when we ran out of clean blankets (yes, I do wash them despite his protests otherwise), Big D (and I kid you not) took a clean blanket and wiped it under his arms... yuck. Thankfully, Jam wasn't buying it. "Not that, Daddy." One thing about Jam is that he is certainly adamant and can hold his ground, no matter the issue. Today I smelled one of his beloved dirty blankets before I put it in the wash. There must be a way to replicate the smell and still keep the cleanliness intact. The blanket had a whiff of Coppertone's Water Babies suntan lotion. My mind started to work in overtime. As soon as Jam got out of the bath and began tearing apart the house looking for the blanket that I had already put in the wash, I made a quick swap for a clean one and then sprayed it with Water Babies. Guess what? He took a whiff and said "here it is." Phew.

Same Page?

2006-04-24T19:35:00.000-07:00

I just got done reading Jam his "goodnight books," which started out as three per night and have morphed into approximately thirty five. For some reason, he was absolutely stuck on this story about a father who makes his daughter and her friends pizza for dinner. The story was only a few pages long, and it's from an early reader book (I'm a teacher and Jam has looted my bookshelf). But Jam didn't want to hear the entire story, only the first page, and he wanted to hear it seventeen times. At first I thought that he was kidding when he said "same page, again." I turned the page and started reading, but he flipped it back and said "same page." So, I read it:
"Laura's Dad makes pizza. Do you like pizza? Do you know how to make pizza?" That's it. Three measly sentences. But he wanted to hear it...again, and again, and again. Every time I snuck in the second page, he flung it back to the first. Eventually I stopped trying and just kept reading that first page in all of its glory (or lack thereof). I tried to stifle the giggles because the sheer monotony was making me looney. Finally, after SEVENTEEN times, Jam said "all finished." Just like that, he was done. I'm praying he doesn't pull this tomorrow night because one can only take so much of Laura, her dad, and the cheesy 80's picture of kids in striped shirts and frizzy hair. Let Laura rest, my man...and mommy too.

In my face

2006-04-24T19:21:00.000-07:00

I had an eye exam today...haven't had one in a couple of years and figured I was due. Kind of forgot how surreal the whole experience is. You have someone all up in your absolute personal space shining flashing lights into eyes that desperately want to close and then asking you to choose between letters that all look blurry, even when the lenses are swapped. The whole thing is exhausting. "Which looks better, one or two, four or eleven, thirteen divided by five?" Then you walk around in a daze because you can't seem to find the restroom because your eyes are all dilated and the funky Ray Charles frames don't seem to help in the least bit. But then I got some disheartening news. It seems that I have a retinal tear. They aren't sure how these things come about but have I been noticing any flashing lights, spots, or blurry vision? This is kind of like being in elementary school and being told that there is going to be a lice check. Suddenly your hair itches like it has never itched before, but you don't want to scratch because then maybe you do have lice and then everyone around you knows it. Oy. So, no on the blurry vision and flashes, but maybe spotting, I think, although I'm not sure which eye. So then I was referred to a specialist and it seems that I'm a prime candidate for laser surgery. This VERY costly venture is a small price to pay for vision, of course, it's just that spending that kind of money and not walking away with a new pair of Jimmy Choo heels hurts a little.

In One Piece

2006-04-23T19:28:00.000-07:00

Well, we got through the day's festivities in one piece, although Jam was starting to unravel by day's end.
Things I wish that I thought of:

1. call myself "Stan the Fan" (name changed) and play with a bunch of kiddies for an hour and charge $300 and do three parties in one day and make $900 bucks...cash.
2. Strawberry Shortcake. I love Strawberry Shortcake. It's actually one of my favorite cakes. That and fruit tarts. They are so yummy. Maybe because I think that I am eating healthy because it's fruity, and well, fruit is good for you.
3. Parachutes. How much fun are they? I mean, this is real community building stuff. You gather around a color, shake up and down and side to side, throw a ball in the middle for good measure and the kiddies go wild. What's up with that?
4. Colored chalk. It's really a great way to get messy and do something that feels really wrong, like tag outdoor furniture, but is amazingly not harmful nor permanent.
5. And lastly, moon bounces. Because who doesn't love jumping yourself silly on a tummy filled with pizza and ice cream and cake...yum, did I mention that I love cake?

Another Party....?

2006-04-22T19:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's official... Big D and I do not have lives. I just checked our calendars and they are filled to the max with birthday party after birthday party...and no, we're not talking about crazy booze filled evenings. We're talking Sunday morning brunches with thirty other whining and screaming one, two and three year olds. Our weekends look like this from now until September. And at that point, they start a new school year with new friends and new invites. It's not that I'm not grateful that my children are included, it's just that I want a life. I love my kids, but I need my groove back, at least for one Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow, we're triple booked...three parties in one day, and I really don't know how Jam will fare. Mudd is still really little so we can still pretty much tote him anywhere. But Jam...so many children, so many opportunities to push. I hope that he calms down with that business already. Today I caught him pre-push. He looked petrified when I caught his arm about to shove the absolute sweetest little girl at our friend's house. Whew, that could have been nasty. I'm on guard with Jam, but I think I am asking way too much of him for tomorrow. Maybe Big D and I will split the parties between the two boys, or maybe I'll let Big D hang with his guys and I'll go see a movie?

Darn Overachievers...

2006-04-21T19:56:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like a first time overachieving parent. You know the type- they are constantly engaging their child in developmental play, they shun baby food that comes from jars, and they deck their kid in clothes that never seem to get dirty. Maybe I was like this a little with Jam (although I really don't think so!), but with Mudd I just have no patience for the overachievers. Mudd had his first Mommy and Me class today and I sat next to a first timer that I am friendly with. I was actually sitting in the circle time frankly a bit bored because at five and half months, his attention span and mine weren't holding up after the first "Twinkle Twinkle." But Les, as I will refer to my friend, was at it with full force. She was having a full on conversation with her son as the teacher moved from song to song. "Eddie," she'd say "isn't this great? I can't wait to see what Maura brings out next. This is all so exciting." I looked at Mudd. He was having a grand ol' time just chomping away at this thumb. He was just chilling. But Les kept talking to Eddie and then I felt like, as ridiculous as this sounds, that I had to play along too...So I rolled my eyes and talked to Mudd. "Hey buddy, isn't this great? Class is so fun." He looked me straight in the eyes and let out the biggest burp in the world. Big D would have been proud. Conversation over.

A little privacy here...

2006-04-20T20:17:00.000-07:00

Just because my little guys made their grand entrances into this world via my private parts does not mean that I don't get to reclaim them as my own. I want to go to the bathroom in peace! Jam follows me into the bathroom and practically sits on me as I try to do my thing. Now, when I thought that he was expressing interest in potty training, I thought that this was a great way for him to learn how things work. But, after a few failed potty training attempts insuring me that he is not indeed yet ready (posts to follow, I promise), he's not learning anything here and I need a few moments to myself. Mudd doesn't have separation anxiety yet, so he's cool about me jetting to the restroom. So, I've locked the door a couple of times. Jam doesn't like that one bit, but I assure him from the other side of the door that "Mommy is right here, she just needs to pee in peace." At first, that didn't jive with him and he screamed "open up." But lately he's giving me some much needed space. But, there is a time limit and should I exceed a three minute allotment that Jam has so generously bestowed upon me, wrath will follow..."Mommy out, no more potty." Three minutes is nice, but five would be golden.

Up all night...

2006-04-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

So, two nights ago, Mudd decided to stay awake pretty much the entire night. He's five and a half months old, and I knew that he was too old to being playing these games with me. I was really, extremely tired and every time I picked him up, he was content as could be, and the minute I put him back down, the screams came at full force. It was time for my little guy to meet the Ferber. Disclaimer: Now I know that talking about things like this on a public blog can fuel all kinds of criticism and harbor all types of negativity. I just want to say that I completely respect the decisions that people make for their own particular children, but I'm going to do what works for me and my boys. It doesn't mean that I'm right, or that my way is the right way for everyone. So, last night, my husband, "the big D," decides that we are going to let him cry it out. We did this with Jam and it really worked, but I had the luxury of skipping outta the house when the crying ensued. This time around, I was stuck at home reading books to Jam, as poor little Mudd cried his eyes out. Jam looked at me like I was insane (which I just might be). "Mom," he said in his beloved two year old babyspeak "Mudd crying." I told him that I knew but that we were going to keep reading. He didn't like that one bit, and could you really blame him? What was I doing to his brother? Would I do the same thing to him? Mudd started to wail and Jam said "MOM, HELLO." I peeked my head out and started to make my way to Mudd's room with Jam in tow. That's when Big D stopped me. "Don't go in there, we've got to do this." It killed me. I think it killed Jam more, and poor Mudd was the most upset of us all. We went back to reading books, and Big D got Mudd after what seemed like an eternity. After Jam and Mudd were finally asleep, guess who was tossing and turning until midnight? That would me be. What's up with that?

Let's see a movie...

2006-04-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

I met two girlfriends at the park. One is married, one is dating, and neither one has kids. They show up in their Louis Vuitton totes and perfectly manicured fingers and toes, and hair that is so straight it's ridiculous. I look down at my shirt, Jam wiped his hands on my back, and I've got Mudd's baby puke on my shoulder. And I was just thinking that this was a good day. Jam is running around on the bridge and Mudd is in the Baby Bjorn. My friends coo over the kids, but they are both having a pretty bad time of it all. Jam missed his nap, and Mudd was up most of the night so they were not in perfect form. My patience level was waning...I knew that I should have rescheduled. Jam starts to dangle from the monkey bars, and I catch him and cushion Mudd (who is buried in my chest and crying on the top of his lungs). I know that the girls are thinking "Yikes. Certainly glad I'm not in HER shoes." So, they try to change the subject and make it less awkward for me, but I've got my hands so full I'm barely keeping up with the conversation. It seems that they are talking about what movie they are on their way to. And that's when the envy sets in. I've got to take these boys home, feed them, bathe them, introduce Mudd to Dr. Ferber so I can catch some much needed ZZ's, and shower myself, if possible. And they are talking about a movie...A MOVIE? I can't even remember the last movie that I saw. I don't even think that I know what's playing right now if I even wanted to chime into their conversation. So, I need to admit that I'm kind of feeling pretty jealous right now. No kids, a long movie, popcorn, a cocktail, perhaps. Or are they envious of me? Two kids...a park and some vomit. Probably not.

The Pusher

2006-04-19T20:02:00.000-07:00

For the record, my son isn't a permanent "pusher," it's just a phase he's going through...please don't label him, I need your playdates. You all know the kid. The biter or the hairpuller of the group. He or she bullies the other kids and then gets forever blacklisted from the playdate black books of the world. I remember being at the park when Jam was still pretty little, and this little girl, "N," pulled his hair for no apparent reason. I've got to admit, I looked at her mother and thought "how could you let your daughter do that?" I remember talking with a girlfriend about "N" and we both agreed that we didn't want our little ones to play with her lest she be a bad influence on them. Now I realize how cruel I was to this poor mother...because now my son has a label, "the pusher." It could be that he was a late talker, and so the words are not where his brain would like them to be. When he can't verbalize (I'm hypothosizing folks..), he resorts to an all out shove. It's getting to be too much. I've tried rewarding him when he doesn't push, and we've talked a lot about how it doesn't feel very nice to get pushed. Nothing has helped, today he pushed three older girls and a little boy, all unprovoked. The little boy's dad told him he should push back. I don't know if that's such a good idea...but, I digress. Now, you may be thinking "what a bad mother," but I'm on it. I've disciplined him each time, and we cut our park day out early when the pushing continued after sitting on the bench proved fruitless. He's still pushing and I'm at wits end, cuz now I'm on the blacklist.

Beautiful Day

2006-04-19T19:37:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Southern California day. The sky is an amazing shade of blue and the light is dancing off of the Pacific Ocean and inspiring me to run harder, and faster, with every wave that crashes onto the sand. I've got the ipod blasting out Coldplay's "Beautiful Day" and it is the perfect soundtrack to my life at this particular moment...
"It's a beautiful day...don't let it get away..."
My energy level is bumped up a few notches and I start to take longer strides as I become invigorated by the beauty of the landscape. As the sweat drips down my brow, I take another look around Ocean Avenue to survey the scene and then
"MMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!" The music stops playing as my headphones are ripped out of the socket and my very angry two and half year old peeks his head out of the back of the jogging stroller and screams "I WANT OUT....NOW." He is holding my headphones and I look down at my soundless Ipod and try to get back in the moment.
I look around again. I see a black cloud or two...it's time to go home.