Thank Goodness Hell is Hot {Hopefully 350 degrees}

I am going to hell in a Muu muu. Today is Sunday...the day of rest. Well, rest is what got me into this mess. First I skipped out of church early, there goes my salvation. What was I going to do? E needed, begged, cried, wiggled, devoured countless puffed treats, and rubbed her eyes until we called it a day. That is not the worst of it. I put E to bed and... and... and I baked! Midget wrestling in a skirt and heels is difficult people. Not a paperview moment. I was exhausted, judgement clouded. I needed to reward myself for not thinking ill thoughts about my offspring in a holy place. I couldn't find a gold star, so I baked.

It's been 2 exercise, healthy eating filled weeks and I fell off the wagon... But not before I grabbed a bag of flour, sugar, 2 eggs, butter and chocolate chips!!! There I was at home, no supervision, no one to talk me into it, and no one to talk me out of it. It was an itch that had to be scratched! I scratched it all right with a spatula and beaters! It's okay though, because every Sunday night is practically like New Years Eve. I make all of these resolutions and hope something will stick. So tomorrow is Monday and I will start over again. Maybe I'll wait until midnight and do a few sit ups, just to get a jump on things. We'll see. While I'm waiting, got any healthy baking recipes?

Earl Had To Die

A few weeks ago, we had a chicken-napping. It was a crime of passion and poultry. Earl #1 flew the coop sending Jack into a tailspin. He stopped listening to the Dixie Chicks.

At about 10pm last night, there was a peck at the door. Lo and behold, it was Earl #2. Jack couldn't have been more delighted. It was a joyous reunion for both man and bird. After exchanging pleasantries and giving him a few squeaks, the true story came out. Earl #1 was plucked from our midst and shredded by David Bowie and Samwise Gamgee. I bet you are wondering how an 80's rockstar and a hobbit joined forces to pull off such a caper? They didn't. The true culprits were the neighbors dogs aka 'Bowie' and 'Sam'.
Thank goodness Jack has a short memory. He is so thrilled to see that bird in any way, shape or form, he didn't notice that Earl #2 is a much larger, greasier version with a new tatoo on his right wing. Look who's squeaking now?!

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy
"I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don't just go by size. Because, I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some really good ideas."

Every leaf speaks bliss to me,

Fluttering from the autumn tree. Emily Bronte

Tough Love

When does unconditional love kick in? Was there a form I was supposed to fill out in the hospital? Is it something I forgot to pick up at the store? Is there a cream I can apply, a pill I can pop or a patch I can stick on? Sometimes I come up a little short in this department and any ideas would be helpful.

Everyone always talks about the terrible two's...let's talk about the tremendous three's (sarcasm included). It's little bodies, big emotions. Not a great combination with big mommy, little patience & sleep. I get it, it's the struggle for independence, self mastery, yada yada. It's just that some days I don't want to give an answer to all the "why's". I want no to just mean "no". No need for an explanation. I don't want to hear a broken record asking me over and over and over again to do something. I don't want to repeat the rules one more time. I don't want to have to outwit the midget with choices that all lead to the same desired result. I don't want to negotiate with the 13 year old diva that occasionally possesses my daughter. And I would rather not deal with the random drama or hysterics. I just want my terrific 2 yr. old back.

So my question is, how do I handle the days that I just want to put my kid's on E-bay? Don't tell me count to 10, because I've gotten to a thousand and nothing! Also, the time out thing. Not so effective...a minute for every year. Problem, G-bean's time-out 3 min., mommy's time-out 29 min. Unfortunately, I never get to finish my time-out. Still working on the Love & Logic concept, but it requires more brain capacity than I have available some days. I would love some ideas, great therapist referrals, perhaps a nanny, a strong drink, anything to remedy this situation? Help me out people.

By the way, I returned my mother of the year trophy.

Sit & Be Fit

The best time to start eating healthy and working out is when you have a house full of baked goods. It's like looking the devil square in the eye.

It's Monday, the day that I start my new and improved healthy lifestyle. I have been saying that I will start for several weeks, but today is truly the day. R took the bull by the horns and started last week. Frankly, I think he's trying to become the better looking partner. So first thing this morning while he was out jogging, I suited up. Two can play at this game.

Why am I doing this? Well my whole sit and be fit regimen wasn't working, so WHY NOT? Actually there are several motivating factors. First and foremost, I want to get dressed without having to strategically tuck in loose parts. In a weak moment, I bought a girdle which looks like Bridget Jone's giant underpants. Have you ever seen a uni-roll?! Second, I need to take better care of me in a way that doesn't involve chocolate. Third, I get to surround myself by sweaty musclemen and catch up on dirty magazines (celebrity smut) at the gym. No kids allowed! Fourth, I am truly tempted to purchase a road bike. (Slow down Brooke, don't wait outside of my house on your bike at 6am just yet). I have to find my lungs, legs, and inner Lance Armstrong. Fifth, ski season is upon us and this year I am not pregnant (WOOHOO!). Plus, I am a sucker for moguls. Sixth, I am challenging myself to do the unexpected...I am thinking of doing a triathlon next summer with R, my mom & sisters. It's never too early to learn how to swim, run, ride a bike and grow a competitive spirit, right?

My public plea is this, do not tempt me. Do not drop off baked goods. If you must leave something, let it be broccoli. Do not offer to give me a ride when I am out running, no matter how painful it looks. Slap my hand if I reach for something naughty, but do not slap my butt like fellow athletes. I will be too sore and it will hurt. Feel free to tell me how good I look, even if you see no change. I am one of "those" who look for results the first day. Lastly, I will need you to remind me why I am doing this...

Mothers or Martyrs

It's the end of an era. Today I finished breastfeeding. The milk factory has shut down. The lactation station in no longer. No more indecent exposure in public. I am not a food source. E is officially as they say in the South "off the tit". I must admit that it is bittersweet. Bitter, in that I can no longer burn 2,ooo calories sitting on my keister. Sweet, in that I have a new found sense of freedom!

My body is once again mine or what's left of it. After my last feeding, I proudly strutted to the mirror and gave it my best "Girls Gone Wild" flash. And then with new eyes, I saw what was left of them. The aftermath of pregnancy and breastfeeding was quite apparent. I don't know what I was thinking. Did I think they would plump right back up to pre-baby body? I should have known better. The old grey mare definitely ain't what she used to be! There they were... deflated party balloons, melted ice cream cones, 'Girls Gone South'. The cup was not even half full. ARRRRRRRRGGGGHHH! At this point, you might be thinking this kind of talk is not very lady-like (sorry Mom). Well people, if I looked like a lady I would talk like one.

Alas, all is not lost. Victoria Secret has come a long way. It's just back to ample padding and false advertising. Perhaps I'll invest in those rubber boobs that look like chicken cutlets. Either way, I would sacrifice it all over again for the cause.

Closing thought:

Why is it that celebrities get hotter after babies. They are practically on the runway 6 weeks later (still love ya Heidi Klum). I know where I messed up...I should have found a plastic surgeon to deliver my babies instead of an OBGYN. What was I thinking?! Maybe Dr. Rey will be available next time.

Be Aggressive

"Hey G-bean, do you know what it means to be aggressive?"

"No?!!!" (looking perplexed while fidgeting with her carefully selected hair accessories)

"It means to chase the ball and kick it. Don't be afraid of the other kids. You just have to get in there and kick the ball."

"Okay." (still perplexed)

At this point, we roll up to G-bean's soccer game blasting her theme song. It's a little ditty called "Busta move". You might of heard of it. It's a classic. You better believe we have dance moves to go with it. It always seems to do the trick in pumping up our daughter to run out on the field and and ...that's about it. Don't get me wrong. We are very proud parents. It's just that I have this sports minded husband who was raised with a pack of wolves (3 brothers). Sports are sports. No, he is not one of those psycho fan dads. He is just hoping to stimulate some type of reflex in G-bean. So when the ball rolls in front of her, she might try kicking it. She has great fun running with the other players, but I don't think she knows why they are running. She just giggles and waves back at us as she trots up and down the field. She also makes a delicious grass pie while sitting in the goalie box with her best buddy M. There is more sport in eating half time orange wedges and retrieving the post game treat. (She's truly my daughter).

Game time. As we are walking towards the field, R says "G-bean, do remember what it means to be aggressive?" To which she responds, "Nope".

Montreal Madness

We made the pilgrimage. Ten years ago, R was pounding the pavement and knocking on doors. Was he a traveling salesmen you ask? Why no, he was a missionary with a crew cut and a badge spreading the good word for free. He was merely a boy dressed in an ill fitted suit armed with a message. As the silly lovesick girlfriend (I still can't read the letters without gagging), I could not imagine what his life was like in this faraway destination. A decade later, I got my chance to see it in person.

We were able to spend 2 1/2 days in Quebec City and 6 days in Montreal. One thing I love about R is that he makes a great travel companion. We love to read maps and navigate every nook and cranny of a new city. We turn into these wide eyed little kids on a grand adventure. When we landed, we hit the ground running. With E in tow, we rented a car and drove up to Quebec City. This was a highlight. It was this incredible walled city that makes you feel like you've traveled to Europe. It was very french, which made me curse my lack of dedication in high school french class. Sorry Madame Durst...R proved to be too much of a distraction (But look at us now!). Note to self, send her an official apology. Walking down cobbled streets, diving into little shops, nibbling on french pastries and gelato, visiting historical landmarks, dining at sidewalk bistros, admiring cathedrals, strolling by the river- OOOH la la it was wonderful. We just needed berets and some very french background music to complete the scene. J'adore Quebec City!

In my estimation, Montreal is a hybrid of San Francisco, Seattle and New York. Translation, FABULOUS!! It was here that we met up with our parents. Don't gasp aloud or cringe...we invited them. Crazy huh? You'll understand in a second. We have the rare privilege of having parents that actually enjoy each other. They were friends long before we were a twinkle in their eyes. No, it was not an arranged marriage. It was by chance that 2 red heads fell in love. Plus, who doesn't dream of traveling with a nanny. We brought 4 doting ones.

We had some other pressing business to conduct. Montreal was hosting the President's Cup which is the U.S. golf team versus an International golf team. Yep, my husband was in heaven! While the men went to the golf events, the women did what we do best, shop & dine. Surprisingly, R was able to pull himself away from Phil Mickelson to show us some of his old apartments and stomping grounds. It was great to visit this chapter of his life that I only knew through letters (extremely sappy letters). We then paid homage to the building where Ghostbusters was filmed. After seeing it, "I still ain't afraid of no ghost." Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I was also able to attend the final round of the golf tournament. For once golf didn't put me to sleep like it does on TV. It was quite fun...plus, R kept me well fed with snacks. It doesn't take much to keep me happy. I just might turn into a bit of a groupie. Don't tell R, he might get the wrong idea. Did I mention that golfers are like celebrities, they are much shorter in person. It's not all smoke and mirrors, Phil Mickelson still has man boobs.

All in all, it was the grand adventure we had hoped for! Minus, E's somersault off the bed. It's always fun to visit new places and meet new people. It awakens your senses and pulls you out of the humdrum. So, if it ever looks like we're not home or we're late for carpool...check Montreal.

Acrobats and Circus Rats

We have added some new acts to our traveling circus. First , we have E who can now pull herself up to a standing position. (future trapeze artist in training). As for the scab on E's nose, she has made her first attempt to hurl herself through the air without the assistance of a cannon. Hold your applause. She has also mastered the art of crawling backwards. Why backwards? Because crawling forward wouldn't allow her to wedge her body into tight corners and under chairs. Perhaps we have a future contortionist that we can zip into suitcases.

And then there is G-bean. She likes to practice her daredevil bicycle balancing act...picture a tightrope under her and you've truly got a show. Sometimes even R gets into the act. Now if we could only get him into a tutu and tights.

"Ever Lasting Loves"

Now that I have my own family, I only have one wish... I'm quite sure it's one and the same for most parents. I want my family to genuinely love each other. I know it's cheesy, but it's true.

Every family has growing pains. You are constantly stretching, changing, and adapting to each stage of life. You want your kids to like themselves, each other, you...Heck, you want to like yourself, your kids, and even your husband (some days). So how do you survive the noogies, sibling warfare, toddler/teenager drama (Isn't it all the same?), marital disconnect, and everyday life. How do you love each other through it all? There are moments in life when you feel like you are living in a hallmark card and want to freeze time. Five minutes later, you feel like you should call Dr. Phil to put the smack down. It's such a wild ride and you don't have time to make popcorn.

Without even realizing it, I start to channel my parents. "Be nice to each other. You are family.", "Don't do that to your brother (in our case, sister), one day he will be bigger than you" or "Why can't we all just get along?". If only we would have heeded the words of our elders. My sister was my nemesis until college. We were the kind of enemies that would write "I hate you" on the mirror with wet' n wild lipstick. And now she is my best friend. I hope it doesn't take my girls that long. But I now understand those pearls of wisdom past generations tried to impart. Here I am...attempting to do the same.

There will be a time when family might not be considered friends and friends might become family. I am already preparing myself for the day when I am not "cool". I know, hard to believe isn't it? The mom they invite to a tea party and cry for to apply a princess band-aid will soon be on the D-list. The sister that once made G-bean laugh and dance will copy her every move and steal her clothes. And the wife that was once so put together (HA!) will be a frazzled mess in yesterday's sweats. Oh, the ebb and flow of life.

Last night G-bean granted me my one wish. Dressed from sparkly tiara to sleeping beauty heels, she told me she was going to cast a spell on me. With that, she gracefully waved her magic wand and said "Ever Lasting Loves"! I did not ask how long the spell would last...but I hope forever.