It's become a little tradition of ours to pick up a peach pie from Maddox when the season is right. I think part of the allure (besides the obvious -- the pies are yumalicious) is the chase. Maddox peach pies are only available for about 3-4 weeks each year. If you're not paying attention, you'll miss your chance for a whole 'nother year. We picked up some pies on Thursday and invited over some friends. Photoguy made his fabulous stir-fry -- a secret recipe he picked up from a Sichuanese guy with a funny mustache who cooked over a flame right outside our apartment in Tianjin. Over there, it only cost us about $1.50 to feed our whole family. It's a lot more work -- lots of chopping -- now that we have to make it ourselves. But, still worth it.
Everyone raved about Photoguy's stir-fry. Then, we brought out the peach pie, and, the grown-ups got all quiet and reverent about it and instructed us not to give any to the kids since they could not yet appreciate something so extraodinaire.
Today was the Farmer's Market. Have I mentioned how much I love the Farmer's Market on this blog? Lunchtime was another feast of fresh veggies galore, accented this time with my homemade whole wheat bread (with wheat I ground in my new wheat grinder -- wowyum!). I felt such a sense of satisfaction putting that meal on the table. After we chowed down, Photoguy grabbed the leftover peach pie and started to divvy. Soph seemed to enjoy hers, but, E-Man turned up his nose and said, "I don't like peaches or pie!". What!? Photoguy said, "Well, try it with some of that (fresh-homemade-real-deal-is-it-wrong-to-lick-this-up-alone?) whipped cream." To which E-Man responded with a resounding, "Whipped cream! Bleeeccchhh!!!" I wished I had a video recording of this conversation to play back to E-Man in the future when his tastes have matured to show him how silly he sounded and the kinds of nonsense he put us through with his apathy or disdain toward most foods.
Here is your heads-up -- Peach Pie at Maddox, get it now!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Happy Birthday AiAi
Dear AiAi,Earlier this month, you turned three-years-old. On the Sunday before your birthday, we celebrated with Daddy's family. Grandma and Grandpa gave you the book, "Song and Dance Man." Grandma said you remind her of a "Song and Dance Man," because of your animated personality and love of making others laugh. You were so proud to sit in the birthday chair, opening gifts and blowing out candles just like you've been watching everyone else do for the past year, patiently waiting your turn.
Right before your birthday, you had your first dentist appointment. I wasn't sure if you would meet this with resistance or trepidation. As it turned out, you hopped up in the chair, kicked off your shoes. laid right back, and opened your mouth wide, as if you had been waiting all your life for a turn at this too.
We spent the week of your birthday living in the lap of luxury at a cabin by Bear Lake. You could not get enough of the three dogs who came along, especially "Indy," a baby golden retriever. You followed that puppy everywhere, observing his every move, and offering him his dish of food and water when you felt it was the right time.
You also couldn't get enough of playing in the giant-sized garage. You spent hours climbing all over the empty boat trailer, or, pretending to drive the jet skis (while they were out of the water), or, perched up high on the seat of the old fashioned tractor (that is used to launch the boats and jet skis). Once, I found you and your cohort Izzy cozied up inside the dog kennel bouncing a tennis ball against the side.
On the day before you turned three, I suddenly had a memory that on that day three-years-ago, I was sitting at home dilated to a six anxiously awaiting your arrival (after weeks of active labor, I knew the end was finally near).
On your birthday, I fed you a big slice of my homemade chocolate cake.
On the Sunday after your birthday, we celebrated with my side of the family and an ice-cream-oreo-cake. Mammas and Grandpa gave you a set of wooden fruits and vegetables that hook together with velcro. You have spent hours cutting them apart with the wooden knife and connecting them back together again. Daddy and I gave you a scooter. Not a little kid scooter, a big kid one just like your brother and sister.
After 24-hours, you had it mastered and were riding all over the skating rink floor (at a birthday party we were invited to) at Classic Fun Center. First, in your rain boots (which you insisted on wearing in August), then, after you tired of those, in your bare feet. I was sure that someone would run over your little foot with a roller skate and crush it. But, we somehow made it through the night with both of your feet intact. You must have fallen down 100-times, but, you never considered giving up.
I have never met a three-year-old as independent as you. That same night (at the fun center), you spent hours playing on the inflatables and indoor playground equipment without feeling the need to check in with mom once.
At home, you frequently let yourself out into the backyard to play by yourself for hours at a time. Outside is your favorite place to be.
You insist on pouring your own glasses of milk (even though the gallon jug is heavier than you), placing them exactly "in the middle" of the microwave, and pushing the buttons yourself.
When you are sad, or hurt, you come to me and say simply, "I need a hug." After you are satisfied you tell me, "I'm O.K." and you're off on your merry way.
You think everything is funny. The other night, you placed my hand on your back and then started to squirm and laugh like I was tickling you (even though I wasn't). You giggle when I brush your teeth. You even act like it is all part of a game you planned out when dad or I get fed up with your misbehavior and give you a spanking or a time-out. You are delighted by it all, which is sometimes frustrating, like in the case of discipline. Though, I think it will serve you well in the long run.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Fresh Picked
I love collecting fruits and vegetables at the farmer's market. I wish we lived in a climate where we harvested year round. Would I ever start to take it for granted then? It's hard to imagine.
I've enjoyed taking my kids with me since Soph was just a baby. This year, I've been a little bit lazy or spoiled, whatever you want to call it. The market is only a block from my gym, so, I've been slipping over by myself right after yoga and leisurely perusing the produce stands, carefree and alone with my thoughts (for all of 15 minutes, it's not that big of a market, but moms have to take solitude wherever they can find it).
Last night Photoguy worked the late shift at the newspaper in Salt Lake, then he crashed at his parents house so he could maximize his sleep time before running the Park City marathon at 6 a.m. So, no yoga. No excuse to leisurely peruse. Instead the munchkins and I stayed up late, slept in, and headed to the farmer's market as soon as we woke up.
The kids brought their scooters and glided up and down the sidewalk past colorful piles of veggies. We sampled some fresh honey and studied a glass encasement of the bees busily working away at making more. I bought oodles of fresh yummies and some kettle corn because the kids and I love it. After a stop at the playground, and a walk around the amphitheater, we coasted to the car and headed home.
In answer to the cries of, "I'm hungry," I sliced up a watermelon and arranged the pieces on a plate like a tall watermelon cake. I boiled up some triple sweet corn on the cob and stacked the rest of the produce in a pile in the center of the table (to serve as inspiration for an art project later). We gobbled up that watermelon and corn and -- Oh. My. Gosh. When has corn ever tasted so good? Soph, E-Man and I were practically licking our plates clean and E-Man even said, "This tastes like candy!"
Then, I broke out the watercolors and told the kids to paint their impressions of the farmer's market. I think we were all feeling really inspired and buzzed by the triple sweet corn as we invented our masterpieces. E-Man chose to paint a mini pumpkin instead of a picture.
The house is in shambles, I didn't shower until noon, and I still haven't combed through Soph's hair. But, we sure had a great time together today.
In other news, the garden is going notsogreat. I had grand visions of teaching the kids the value of work as we weeded together. Instead, each time they tried to pull weeds we lost at least five corn plants to being trampled under their little feet. Plus, I told Photoguy that I could only stomach weeding one half of the garden. He planted the whole thing. So, it's no real surprise that all is now overgrown with weeds. It's too big of a space. It overwhelms me when I look at it. I just walk outside, take one peek, get tired and go back inside. Most of the plants are dying. I was checking it out today and it looks like we will harvest a few tomatillos and some sort of squash or pumpkin thing. A handful of harvest from over 100 plants. I'm sure it didn't help that we planted on July 7th (just a tad bit late). But, truly I've given up on the whole garden thing. I have invested way too much thought, energy and money in something that stresses me out and fails to yield a harvest year after year. I was hoping the "three's the charm" theory would apply to the garden this time. But, I am d-o-n-e. No more gardens for me. Not unless we move to another house. Perhaps I would be inspired to try a garden in a new space. Or, if I ever build me a nice little 4x4 planter . . . maybe.
Sigh. At least we have the farmer's market!
I've enjoyed taking my kids with me since Soph was just a baby. This year, I've been a little bit lazy or spoiled, whatever you want to call it. The market is only a block from my gym, so, I've been slipping over by myself right after yoga and leisurely perusing the produce stands, carefree and alone with my thoughts (for all of 15 minutes, it's not that big of a market, but moms have to take solitude wherever they can find it).
Last night Photoguy worked the late shift at the newspaper in Salt Lake, then he crashed at his parents house so he could maximize his sleep time before running the Park City marathon at 6 a.m. So, no yoga. No excuse to leisurely peruse. Instead the munchkins and I stayed up late, slept in, and headed to the farmer's market as soon as we woke up.
The kids brought their scooters and glided up and down the sidewalk past colorful piles of veggies. We sampled some fresh honey and studied a glass encasement of the bees busily working away at making more. I bought oodles of fresh yummies and some kettle corn because the kids and I love it. After a stop at the playground, and a walk around the amphitheater, we coasted to the car and headed home.
In answer to the cries of, "I'm hungry," I sliced up a watermelon and arranged the pieces on a plate like a tall watermelon cake. I boiled up some triple sweet corn on the cob and stacked the rest of the produce in a pile in the center of the table (to serve as inspiration for an art project later). We gobbled up that watermelon and corn and -- Oh. My. Gosh. When has corn ever tasted so good? Soph, E-Man and I were practically licking our plates clean and E-Man even said, "This tastes like candy!"
Then, I broke out the watercolors and told the kids to paint their impressions of the farmer's market. I think we were all feeling really inspired and buzzed by the triple sweet corn as we invented our masterpieces. E-Man chose to paint a mini pumpkin instead of a picture.
The house is in shambles, I didn't shower until noon, and I still haven't combed through Soph's hair. But, we sure had a great time together today.
In other news, the garden is going notsogreat. I had grand visions of teaching the kids the value of work as we weeded together. Instead, each time they tried to pull weeds we lost at least five corn plants to being trampled under their little feet. Plus, I told Photoguy that I could only stomach weeding one half of the garden. He planted the whole thing. So, it's no real surprise that all is now overgrown with weeds. It's too big of a space. It overwhelms me when I look at it. I just walk outside, take one peek, get tired and go back inside. Most of the plants are dying. I was checking it out today and it looks like we will harvest a few tomatillos and some sort of squash or pumpkin thing. A handful of harvest from over 100 plants. I'm sure it didn't help that we planted on July 7th (just a tad bit late). But, truly I've given up on the whole garden thing. I have invested way too much thought, energy and money in something that stresses me out and fails to yield a harvest year after year. I was hoping the "three's the charm" theory would apply to the garden this time. But, I am d-o-n-e. No more gardens for me. Not unless we move to another house. Perhaps I would be inspired to try a garden in a new space. Or, if I ever build me a nice little 4x4 planter . . . maybe.
Sigh. At least we have the farmer's market!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Free Fair Day
Two weeks ago, I was babysitting for my friend who is a lawyer. She has done many worthwhile things with her talents from prosecuting in the juvenile courts to helping victims of domestic violence. I truly, truly admire her for all the good she does.
So, I was babysitting her three kids and added to my three kids that meant I had the following: An 8-year-old, 7-year-old, 6-year-old, 5-year-old and two 2-year-olds. Suddenly, I realized that the county fair was in town and that this was "Free Fair Day." Six kids or not, I simply have to go to something as cool as "Free Fair Day." I look forward to this chance for my kids to get up close and personal with cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats. This year they even had a sting-ray exhibit where the kids could actually pet the squishy little guys.
We dropped everything, loaded up in the van and headed to the fairgrounds. First we walked through all the booths where the kids were invited to play free games and win prizes (prizes like key chains, refrigerator magnets and other paraphernalia conspicuously decorated with logos and advertisements). The kids loved filling their bags with useless junk as I cringed knowing it would all be discarded the next day.
Then, we wandered over to see the animals. We spent some time with Mr. Ray. Soph loved the pink pigs. E-Man loved the cows. And, AiAi took it all in with wide-eyed wonder.
On our way to the exit, we happened upon a petting zoo of sorts where a guy was charging an arm and a leg for little cups of pellets the kids could feed the animals. I decided to splurge and get some pellets for the kids. In about 3-seconds, the goats had seized the cups from the kids' hands and were wearing them on their noses while greedily snarfing the food. So, I bought the kids more pellets. This time, before they even got to the goats, the cups were spilled in an impressive scattering on the ground. That meant it was time to go.
In our haste to get back to the van (both babies were screaming by this point because it was past their nap-times), one of the kids lost a cheap inflatable ball that had been won at a free game. This led to much screaming and gnashing of teeth (mostly the child's screaming, that is), while I sympathized (I'm sorry you lost that, it really meant a lot to you), then reasoned (I know that you would like to go back inside to find it, but that's just not possible, plusI was going to throw it away within hours anyways it's most likely already been picked up by someone else. I know you are upset, but you have to calm down because your screaming is causing everyone's eardrums to bleed bothering everyone.), then scolded (I realize that you are upset, but you MUST stop screaming NOW), then bribed (If you stop screaming, you can play a computer game or pick a video when we get home), then threatened (I have ice-cream at home and whoever isn't screaming by the time I count to ten gets some. I mean it, if you don't stop the screaming I will give every other child ice-cream and they will all eat it in front of you and I'm not going to let you have any), and finally begged (For the love of all that is good in this world you MUST stop screaming NOW, you have permanently damaged my hearing and I can't take it anymore. Stop. Stop. STOP!!!). All to no avail.
At some point, however, the screaming did stop. And, the kids started examining their loot. Soph checked out a miniature dry-erase board from the booth recruiting foster parents. "Mom, what is a 'foster parent'?"
"Well, sometimes kids don't have anyone to take care of them, so they go to live with another family and the parents of that family become the 'foster parents' to the child."
"But, where are the parents?"
Oh, the harsh realities we are sometimes brought to share with our children.
"Sometimes parents do things that are against the law and they have to go to jail so the kids need someone to look after them. And, I'm sorry to tell you this but, sometimes kids have parents who do bad things to kids so the kids are taken away and given to other parents who will be nice to them."
My friend's six-year-old chimed in at this point, "Yeah, but I don't think that could happen at our house because my mom is the one putting the bad guys in jail."
I loved that.
So, I was babysitting her three kids and added to my three kids that meant I had the following: An 8-year-old, 7-year-old, 6-year-old, 5-year-old and two 2-year-olds. Suddenly, I realized that the county fair was in town and that this was "Free Fair Day." Six kids or not, I simply have to go to something as cool as "Free Fair Day." I look forward to this chance for my kids to get up close and personal with cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats. This year they even had a sting-ray exhibit where the kids could actually pet the squishy little guys.
We dropped everything, loaded up in the van and headed to the fairgrounds. First we walked through all the booths where the kids were invited to play free games and win prizes (prizes like key chains, refrigerator magnets and other paraphernalia conspicuously decorated with logos and advertisements). The kids loved filling their bags with useless junk as I cringed knowing it would all be discarded the next day.
Then, we wandered over to see the animals. We spent some time with Mr. Ray. Soph loved the pink pigs. E-Man loved the cows. And, AiAi took it all in with wide-eyed wonder.
On our way to the exit, we happened upon a petting zoo of sorts where a guy was charging an arm and a leg for little cups of pellets the kids could feed the animals. I decided to splurge and get some pellets for the kids. In about 3-seconds, the goats had seized the cups from the kids' hands and were wearing them on their noses while greedily snarfing the food. So, I bought the kids more pellets. This time, before they even got to the goats, the cups were spilled in an impressive scattering on the ground. That meant it was time to go.
In our haste to get back to the van (both babies were screaming by this point because it was past their nap-times), one of the kids lost a cheap inflatable ball that had been won at a free game. This led to much screaming and gnashing of teeth (mostly the child's screaming, that is), while I sympathized (I'm sorry you lost that, it really meant a lot to you), then reasoned (I know that you would like to go back inside to find it, but that's just not possible, plus
At some point, however, the screaming did stop. And, the kids started examining their loot. Soph checked out a miniature dry-erase board from the booth recruiting foster parents. "Mom, what is a 'foster parent'?"
"Well, sometimes kids don't have anyone to take care of them, so they go to live with another family and the parents of that family become the 'foster parents' to the child."
"But, where are the parents?"
Oh, the harsh realities we are sometimes brought to share with our children.
"Sometimes parents do things that are against the law and they have to go to jail so the kids need someone to look after them. And, I'm sorry to tell you this but, sometimes kids have parents who do bad things to kids so the kids are taken away and given to other parents who will be nice to them."
My friend's six-year-old chimed in at this point, "Yeah, but I don't think that could happen at our house because my mom is the one putting the bad guys in jail."
I loved that.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
What My Kids Taught Me
Soph, as my first born, you taught me a love greater than I ever knew possible. You awakened the mother in me. You showed me how to be still and see the world through eyes of constant wonder and amazement.
E-Man, after I opted out of an epidual when you came into the world, you taught me that I have more strength than I ever knew. You were my inspiration for running half-marathons. I realized if I could go through natural childbirth, I could probably do anything I set my mind to.
AiAi, as my third born, you taught me to loosen up and enjoy life more. Your sense of humor is contagious. I've learned so much from your ability to find the funny in any situation. Plus, if I hadn't loosened up when you came along, I would have gone mad trying to keep the house clean with three kids.
E-Man, after I opted out of an epidual when you came into the world, you taught me that I have more strength than I ever knew. You were my inspiration for running half-marathons. I realized if I could go through natural childbirth, I could probably do anything I set my mind to.
AiAi, as my third born, you taught me to loosen up and enjoy life more. Your sense of humor is contagious. I've learned so much from your ability to find the funny in any situation. Plus, if I hadn't loosened up when you came along, I would have gone mad trying to keep the house clean with three kids.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Bear Lake Here We Come!
Since we are headed back up to Bear Lake in a couple of days, I thought I'd take the time to post some pics from our stay in early June:
The babies share a snuggle by the campfire.
AiAi kicks a ball with the beautiful lake in the background.
E-Man loves his bike.
Paula led the girls in a fun evening of dancing on the lawn.
AiAi blissfully napping with Mammas.
The kids love this player piano.
We wore the kids out. Cute towels courtesy of Heidi.
Dandelion bouquets.
Lots of hot cocoa to combat the chilly weather.
E-Man loves this shirt he made for himself.
Here is what we are looking forward to the most -- lots more beach time this time than last time because it's going to be sunny and hot!
The babies share a snuggle by the campfire.
AiAi kicks a ball with the beautiful lake in the background.
E-Man loves his bike.
Paula led the girls in a fun evening of dancing on the lawn.
AiAi blissfully napping with Mammas.
The kids love this player piano.
We wore the kids out. Cute towels courtesy of Heidi.
Dandelion bouquets.
Lots of hot cocoa to combat the chilly weather.
E-Man loves this shirt he made for himself.
Here is what we are looking forward to the most -- lots more beach time this time than last time because it's going to be sunny and hot!
Things That Disturb Me
A few years ago, I bought a bunch of educational computer games for the kids. Right now, they love to play the "I Love Math," game. I feel great about this, except for one thing. Whenever they load the game, it starts out with a conversation between two animated kids about how much they "hate" math. They actually use that word -- "hate." I realize that the makers of this game are probably thinking that they are super clever to identify with kids who "hate" math, and then turn it into a game to show them that they actually "love" it. But, I think it's a very poor idea and I cringe every time I hear it. Kids don't know they are suppose to "hate" math until we drill that idea into their minds. My kids are still young enough to think math is fun and I wonder why this game (which, in all other respects, is a fabulous game that truly challenges their math skills and holds their interest) would reinforce that negative stereotype? Not to mention that we are tying to teach our kids not to say "hate" here. Hello geniuses who came up with this? I guess it could be the reason I got all the games at a huge discount.
Also, am I the only one annoyed with the language used in children's literature? Soph and I started reading Junie B. Jones a few years ago. At first I thought it was cute. After a few books, however, I had to stop reading them because I had had my fill of "dumb bunnies," "ewies stewie tomatoes," and other negative language that filled every page.
Recently, the kids got to pick out a free book at the end of their summer reading program at the library. E-Man picked out a chapter book, completely devoid of pictures, that was probably made for ten-year-olds. This was off of a table covered with all kinds of picture books, and, he's five. Then, he wanted me to read it to him. It is from the "Goosebumps Series," and, even without pictures, my kids were enthralled. However, I found myself editing out the word "stupid" over and over and changing the words a bit because I quickly tired of the on-going sibling rivalry. The narrator is a twelve-year-old girl who constantly talks about how annoying her ten-year-old brother is, and how stupid he is. This is also reflected in their dialog with each other. Am I the only parent who doesn't want my kids saying "stupid"? And, I have worked my guts out trying to get Soph and E-Man to have some sort of sibling bond (it has never come naturally between them), so I really didn't appreciate the portrayal of -- "This is how brothers and sisters are. They "hate" (to use the word I learned from "I Love Math") each other". My editing was pretty clever until I finished the book and Soph picked it up and started reading. After a few paragraphs she said, "Mom this book has a lot of bad words," meaning "stupid." Good for her. But, what am I going to do if she starts to consume a steady diet of these books now that she is reading on her own?
I hold literature to a higher standard than animated media. Still, it's bad enough that our cartoons are laced with things we don't want our children to learn. Like Woody calling Buzz an "idiot." Or, Lightening McQueen using a swear word (I can't remember now what it was, but I think he referred to Radiator Springs as "hell" and it was so subtle I didn't even pick up on it until the 20th viewing, but, there it was, a true, unmistakable swear word in a kid's cartoon). The word "hell" is used in Madagascar too (saw this one in the theaters, but didn't buy it for this reason). And, once, my kids were watching a "Postcards From Buster" on PBSKids, what I considered the one safe haven, and a kid looked right into the camera and said, "Oh my G**." I was so disturbed by this, that I even sent an e-mail to PBS. The response was something to the effect that they appeal to a broad audience with many different backgrounds. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that taking the Lord's name in vain was just a matter of preference these days. Now, I'm really getting worked up. But, what is up with things geared toward very young kids these days!?
Also, am I the only one annoyed with the language used in children's literature? Soph and I started reading Junie B. Jones a few years ago. At first I thought it was cute. After a few books, however, I had to stop reading them because I had had my fill of "dumb bunnies," "ewies stewie tomatoes," and other negative language that filled every page.
Recently, the kids got to pick out a free book at the end of their summer reading program at the library. E-Man picked out a chapter book, completely devoid of pictures, that was probably made for ten-year-olds. This was off of a table covered with all kinds of picture books, and, he's five. Then, he wanted me to read it to him. It is from the "Goosebumps Series," and, even without pictures, my kids were enthralled. However, I found myself editing out the word "stupid" over and over and changing the words a bit because I quickly tired of the on-going sibling rivalry. The narrator is a twelve-year-old girl who constantly talks about how annoying her ten-year-old brother is, and how stupid he is. This is also reflected in their dialog with each other. Am I the only parent who doesn't want my kids saying "stupid"? And, I have worked my guts out trying to get Soph and E-Man to have some sort of sibling bond (it has never come naturally between them), so I really didn't appreciate the portrayal of -- "This is how brothers and sisters are. They "hate" (to use the word I learned from "I Love Math") each other". My editing was pretty clever until I finished the book and Soph picked it up and started reading. After a few paragraphs she said, "Mom this book has a lot of bad words," meaning "stupid." Good for her. But, what am I going to do if she starts to consume a steady diet of these books now that she is reading on her own?
I hold literature to a higher standard than animated media. Still, it's bad enough that our cartoons are laced with things we don't want our children to learn. Like Woody calling Buzz an "idiot." Or, Lightening McQueen using a swear word (I can't remember now what it was, but I think he referred to Radiator Springs as "hell" and it was so subtle I didn't even pick up on it until the 20th viewing, but, there it was, a true, unmistakable swear word in a kid's cartoon). The word "hell" is used in Madagascar too (saw this one in the theaters, but didn't buy it for this reason). And, once, my kids were watching a "Postcards From Buster" on PBSKids, what I considered the one safe haven, and a kid looked right into the camera and said, "Oh my G**." I was so disturbed by this, that I even sent an e-mail to PBS. The response was something to the effect that they appeal to a broad audience with many different backgrounds. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that taking the Lord's name in vain was just a matter of preference these days. Now, I'm really getting worked up. But, what is up with things geared toward very young kids these days!?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
If You Happen to Find my Brain, I'd Like it Back
It was such a fun day. Photoguy had to take some photos for a guy at my favorite restaurant -- Taggart's -- and, we were all treated to a fabulous lunch. I felt really spoiled because just yesterday my mom took me out to lunch at my other favorite restaurant -- Bombay Grill -- for tasty Indian food (which I was craving because just two days before we had Indian food in Salt Lake at the Himalayan Kitchen).
After the awesome meal, Photoguy headed off to work. The kids and I met my mom and made a new discovery for my list of fun things to do in Ogden -- Toad's. They have arcade games, laser tag, mini-golf, go-carts and other fun stuff like that. We rode the go-carts and played 18-holes of mini-golf on their elaborate course (haunted houses, colorful castles, waterfalls). To top it all off, we even went out to ice-cream at Pop's Malt Shop.
At the end of the day, I brought the kids home all sticky and tired. We hadn't had dinner. Some of us needed to use the facilities. We were all thristy. And, AiAi was asleep. That is when I discovered we were LOCKED OUT!
Earlier in the day, when I left, I hadn't been able to find my keys, so rather than take the time to find them, I just grabbed the spare van key and left the back door un-locked (since I didn't have a house key). I know, I know, it isn't the smartest thing to do. I should really be locking my door.
When I came home, I discovered that the new, obscure deadbolt, which we almost never ever lock, was locked earlier that day by Photoguy in some random sequence of events. So even though the door was "unlocked" it was barricaded shut by the deadbolt -- ugh.
I opened up the garage to get the spare key to unlock the front door and it was GONE! So, then, I had to call Photoguy (who FYI is working in Salt Lake until midnight so it wasn't like he could just drop off a key) to ask if he knew where the spare key was. Yes, he did know. It is the one we gave the realtor for the lock-box. Gah! The last thing I wanted to do was explain to him that I had taken the spare van key, because then he would say, "Why didn't you take your keys," and, I would say, "Because I couldn't find them," -- this really annoys him because he never loses his keys and for some reason I always seem to lose mine -- then, he would say, "Well, you have to find them," and, then I would have to say, "That is all well and good for you to say, but, you don't understand that if I always made a point to find everything I lost, I wouldn't be able to do anything else in my life other than run around in circles looking for things." I know, I know, I don't know how I got to be so forgetful or why I always seem to lose everything. It's so frustrating! But, since I am constantly losing things, I just figure out clever (or, in this case, not so clever) coping mechanisms, like leaving the back door unlocked, for example. In the end, everything seems to turn up. I just don't have time after I've taken everyone to the bathroom, put everyone's shoes on, and done one million other things to get myself and three kids out the door to run around looking for keys! I mean, I did look, but when they weren't in any of the obvious places, I grabbed the spare key, hastily unlocked the back door, and moved on.
I was starting to panic and have visions of the kids and I sleeping on the floor at my parents' house with no P.J.'s, toothbrushes or clean underwear in the morning. So, as embarrassing as it was, I decided to call my realtor to get the key out of the lockbox. He didn't answer, so I called his wife (we are friends) just to see if he was with her. Turned out she was on her way to Delta and he was on his way to Wyoming. Baaahhh! So, she said, "Don't worry, I'll find someone to help you." And, she proceeds to make, I don't know how many phone calls to how many people to interrupt their fine evening to ask if they can run out and unlock a door for some wacky absent-minded lady.
As I'm sitting there in the driveway thinking about the whole situation, I start to think about my lost keys. Wouldn't it be ridiculous if my lost keys were actually somewhere out here in my van where I could access them all along? So, I start rummaging through my huge purse. I pull out two pairs of shorts and underwear (AiAi is potty training), a few diapers, my wallet, my cell phone, two handfulls of trash, and 12 pieces of gum that my kids emptied out of their package. You guessed it. There were my lost keys at the very bottom. But, see, I hardly ever put my keys in my purse (because that would be the most likely place, of course), so, I had only done a half-hearted search of my purse the first time. This is another problem with my problem of losing things -- not seeing them when they are right in front of my face when I look for them.
But, now, I'm feeling even one million times more silly because I HAD MY KEY ALL ALONG. So, I have to call my realtor's wife (who is now in some remote corner of Utah and has no cell phone service), and finally I get a hold of my realtor instead, and he says, "Oh, someone is on their way right now, so let me call them back." Who knows how many people I've disturbed with this whole fiasco.
And, now the worst part of all. What am I suppose to tell Photoguy? I'm beginning to understand my friend "Neighbor Lady's" words, whenever she does something particularly humiliating, she says, "Please don't tell my husband. If he rolls his eyes any further back into his head, they are going to get stuck there, from all the stupid things I've done over the years."
After the awesome meal, Photoguy headed off to work. The kids and I met my mom and made a new discovery for my list of fun things to do in Ogden -- Toad's. They have arcade games, laser tag, mini-golf, go-carts and other fun stuff like that. We rode the go-carts and played 18-holes of mini-golf on their elaborate course (haunted houses, colorful castles, waterfalls). To top it all off, we even went out to ice-cream at Pop's Malt Shop.
At the end of the day, I brought the kids home all sticky and tired. We hadn't had dinner. Some of us needed to use the facilities. We were all thristy. And, AiAi was asleep. That is when I discovered we were LOCKED OUT!
Earlier in the day, when I left, I hadn't been able to find my keys, so rather than take the time to find them, I just grabbed the spare van key and left the back door un-locked (since I didn't have a house key). I know, I know, it isn't the smartest thing to do. I should really be locking my door.
When I came home, I discovered that the new, obscure deadbolt, which we almost never ever lock, was locked earlier that day by Photoguy in some random sequence of events. So even though the door was "unlocked" it was barricaded shut by the deadbolt -- ugh.
I opened up the garage to get the spare key to unlock the front door and it was GONE! So, then, I had to call Photoguy (who FYI is working in Salt Lake until midnight so it wasn't like he could just drop off a key) to ask if he knew where the spare key was. Yes, he did know. It is the one we gave the realtor for the lock-box. Gah! The last thing I wanted to do was explain to him that I had taken the spare van key, because then he would say, "Why didn't you take your keys," and, I would say, "Because I couldn't find them," -- this really annoys him because he never loses his keys and for some reason I always seem to lose mine -- then, he would say, "Well, you have to find them," and, then I would have to say, "That is all well and good for you to say, but, you don't understand that if I always made a point to find everything I lost, I wouldn't be able to do anything else in my life other than run around in circles looking for things." I know, I know, I don't know how I got to be so forgetful or why I always seem to lose everything. It's so frustrating! But, since I am constantly losing things, I just figure out clever (or, in this case, not so clever) coping mechanisms, like leaving the back door unlocked, for example. In the end, everything seems to turn up. I just don't have time after I've taken everyone to the bathroom, put everyone's shoes on, and done one million other things to get myself and three kids out the door to run around looking for keys! I mean, I did look, but when they weren't in any of the obvious places, I grabbed the spare key, hastily unlocked the back door, and moved on.
I was starting to panic and have visions of the kids and I sleeping on the floor at my parents' house with no P.J.'s, toothbrushes or clean underwear in the morning. So, as embarrassing as it was, I decided to call my realtor to get the key out of the lockbox. He didn't answer, so I called his wife (we are friends) just to see if he was with her. Turned out she was on her way to Delta and he was on his way to Wyoming. Baaahhh! So, she said, "Don't worry, I'll find someone to help you." And, she proceeds to make, I don't know how many phone calls to how many people to interrupt their fine evening to ask if they can run out and unlock a door for some wacky absent-minded lady.
As I'm sitting there in the driveway thinking about the whole situation, I start to think about my lost keys. Wouldn't it be ridiculous if my lost keys were actually somewhere out here in my van where I could access them all along? So, I start rummaging through my huge purse. I pull out two pairs of shorts and underwear (AiAi is potty training), a few diapers, my wallet, my cell phone, two handfulls of trash, and 12 pieces of gum that my kids emptied out of their package. You guessed it. There were my lost keys at the very bottom. But, see, I hardly ever put my keys in my purse (because that would be the most likely place, of course), so, I had only done a half-hearted search of my purse the first time. This is another problem with my problem of losing things -- not seeing them when they are right in front of my face when I look for them.
But, now, I'm feeling even one million times more silly because I HAD MY KEY ALL ALONG. So, I have to call my realtor's wife (who is now in some remote corner of Utah and has no cell phone service), and finally I get a hold of my realtor instead, and he says, "Oh, someone is on their way right now, so let me call them back." Who knows how many people I've disturbed with this whole fiasco.
And, now the worst part of all. What am I suppose to tell Photoguy? I'm beginning to understand my friend "Neighbor Lady's" words, whenever she does something particularly humiliating, she says, "Please don't tell my husband. If he rolls his eyes any further back into his head, they are going to get stuck there, from all the stupid things I've done over the years."
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Thanks Photoguy, For a Night Out of the Comfort Zone
Photoguy took me to a reunion dinner to hang out with members of his "Dude, Where's My Van?" team (from the Wasatch Back Relay) Friday night. I was feeling less than enthusiastic about driving all the way to Park City to be with people who are strangers to me. When I was single, I loved meeting new people. Now, I barely have time to hang out with the people near and dear to me. Please, no new people who I will most likely never, ever see again (said only slightly tongue in cheek).
To make me feel better, we arranged to drop the kids off a few hours early and hit the outlet malls before dinner. That was suh-WEET! I found bargains for everyone in the family. I even bought two shirts that I love. It's hard to find shirts that are tight enough to say, "I do have somewhat of a figure here," but not so tight as to say, "Ask me when my baby is due," so I was pretty stoked about finding two in one shopping excursion.
As soon as we showed up at the home hosting the BBQ, I realized my reservations had been unfounded. We pulled up to a gorgeous two-story house with a wrap around veranda. We walked in to an even more gorgeous front room, down a hallway lined with art, past a gigantic glass-doored closet filled with wine, and into a kitchen donning delicious eats arranged on impressive platters. I could see it was going to be a first-class night. Turns out the young couple living there are both attorneys. (I've now begun prepping Photoguy for the LSAT to help him find his new career path.)
The guests arrived, and while they were nice people, I didn't really have anything to say to them as they reminisced about their 30-hours sweating together in a van, and, their adventures with port-a-potties at marathons.
One gal brought her daughter, Daphne. "And, how old are you Daphne?" I asked. I got the eye roll and the "whatever" look. "Are you blowing me off?" Slight nod, followed by a smirk. Then, she turned to her mom and said, "Can we go yet?" They had just arrived.
Usually, when I get a night out without my kids, I'm not jumping at the chance to entertain kids, kapish? Yet, for some reason I found myself saying, "Hey Daphne, let's get outta here. These guys are talking about boring grown-up stuff."
We went out to the back porch and had the most delightful evening. She is nine-years-old. Her favorite animals are sharks. She knows all kinds of facts about sharks. She may have been making them up, but it sure sounded real. She wants to go to college in Australia and study to be a marine biologist. Her best friend is going to live with her and keep alligators. She told me about traveling to Mexico where she jumped off a cliff into a waterfall. And, London, where she saw two Broadway musicals and Stone Henge, but they didn't ride the giant ferris wheel because "That would have been a waste of time, we would have rather seen things that have been around for hundreds of years." She was cracking me up! She told me about mountain biking, running with a track team, and how her school makes her wear a uniform with "pants that come up past the belly button!" The nerve!
It was such a great conversation. I couldn't believe she was only nine. It got me thinking about what my kids would talk about in the same situation. Hmmm . . . probably evil Pokemon - gah! We'd better start working on that.
To make me feel better, we arranged to drop the kids off a few hours early and hit the outlet malls before dinner. That was suh-WEET! I found bargains for everyone in the family. I even bought two shirts that I love. It's hard to find shirts that are tight enough to say, "I do have somewhat of a figure here," but not so tight as to say, "Ask me when my baby is due," so I was pretty stoked about finding two in one shopping excursion.
As soon as we showed up at the home hosting the BBQ, I realized my reservations had been unfounded. We pulled up to a gorgeous two-story house with a wrap around veranda. We walked in to an even more gorgeous front room, down a hallway lined with art, past a gigantic glass-doored closet filled with wine, and into a kitchen donning delicious eats arranged on impressive platters. I could see it was going to be a first-class night. Turns out the young couple living there are both attorneys. (I've now begun prepping Photoguy for the LSAT to help him find his new career path.)
The guests arrived, and while they were nice people, I didn't really have anything to say to them as they reminisced about their 30-hours sweating together in a van, and, their adventures with port-a-potties at marathons.
One gal brought her daughter, Daphne. "And, how old are you Daphne?" I asked. I got the eye roll and the "whatever" look. "Are you blowing me off?" Slight nod, followed by a smirk. Then, she turned to her mom and said, "Can we go yet?" They had just arrived.
Usually, when I get a night out without my kids, I'm not jumping at the chance to entertain kids, kapish? Yet, for some reason I found myself saying, "Hey Daphne, let's get outta here. These guys are talking about boring grown-up stuff."
We went out to the back porch and had the most delightful evening. She is nine-years-old. Her favorite animals are sharks. She knows all kinds of facts about sharks. She may have been making them up, but it sure sounded real. She wants to go to college in Australia and study to be a marine biologist. Her best friend is going to live with her and keep alligators. She told me about traveling to Mexico where she jumped off a cliff into a waterfall. And, London, where she saw two Broadway musicals and Stone Henge, but they didn't ride the giant ferris wheel because "That would have been a waste of time, we would have rather seen things that have been around for hundreds of years." She was cracking me up! She told me about mountain biking, running with a track team, and how her school makes her wear a uniform with "pants that come up past the belly button!" The nerve!
It was such a great conversation. I couldn't believe she was only nine. It got me thinking about what my kids would talk about in the same situation. Hmmm . . . probably evil Pokemon - gah! We'd better start working on that.
A Snapshot in Time
I was caught a little off-guard when I saw this picture for the first time only a few days ago. There's me, standing on some random street in China with two of my little kids. And, now that a year-and-a-half has passed, they look so much younger than I thought they were just a year-and-a-half ago. Soph and E-Man were standing next to me when I pulled the photo up on Photoguy's blog. "Hey look guys, there we are in China! Do you wish we could move back to China?" To which E-Man replied, "No. The people are too grabby." Well said, E-Man. I always wonder what my kids will take from that experience. Will they even be able to remember it by the time they grow up? Apparently, the way everyone insisted on touching E-Man's blond hair has stuck with him.
Lessons From Junk Mail
E-Man: (perusing through a sale add reads) "75% off. Mommy, what does percent mean?"
Me: (a bit confused about how to explain this to a five-year-old) "Well, if you have a whole and you divide it into four parts, one part or 1/4 of the whole equals 25%, two parts or half of the whole equals 50%, 3 parts or 3/4 of the whole equals 75%, all the parts or the whole thing equals 100%. (thinking it is too confusing for him to grasp I add) It's okay if you don't understand it now, you have plenty of time to learn about percents later on."
That same afternoon we attended a star show at the Planetarium. Admittedly, it was a little boring. Part way through, E-Man asked, "How much longer until it's over?" I had no way to know so I just said, "It's almost over." He replied, "So are you saying it is 99% over? Because that is 1% less than 100."
I just hope he will use his powers for good, not evil, when he grows up.
Me: (a bit confused about how to explain this to a five-year-old) "Well, if you have a whole and you divide it into four parts, one part or 1/4 of the whole equals 25%, two parts or half of the whole equals 50%, 3 parts or 3/4 of the whole equals 75%, all the parts or the whole thing equals 100%. (thinking it is too confusing for him to grasp I add) It's okay if you don't understand it now, you have plenty of time to learn about percents later on."
That same afternoon we attended a star show at the Planetarium. Admittedly, it was a little boring. Part way through, E-Man asked, "How much longer until it's over?" I had no way to know so I just said, "It's almost over." He replied, "So are you saying it is 99% over? Because that is 1% less than 100."
I just hope he will use his powers for good, not evil, when he grows up.
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