Tuesday, March 30, 2010

A Lovely Spring Afternoon

The weather yesterday was lovely, so when I got home from work I banished all the kids to the backyard to play while Scott went out and grabbed us some dinner.

Pretty soon I heard a familiar word.  "Ow!!"

This time it was Owen.  After some investigating, I deduced that Ashley had hit him over the head with a wiffle ball bat.  A time-out ensued.

Later, as we were all munching on a healthy dinner of Bronco's burgers and fries, I related to Scott that Ashley had bat-bopped her brother's brain.  How's that for some fancy alliteration?  Don't mind me, just trying to class this post up.

Anyway, Scott told Ashley that he might have to call Dr. B (our pediatrician) and tell him what she did.  We name-drop Dr. B a lot, because for some reason Ashley really cares what Dr. B thinks. Probably because he's the guy who calls the shots.  Literally.  (Last time she got "FIVE shots, mommy!  And they PINCHED!", which she reminds me of from time to time constantly).  And then I added that "Yeah, Dr. B might need to call the police for hitting your brother.  And they could take you to jail." 

It didn't phase her one bit.  Instead, it triggered her to tell us the Passion of the Christ, taught via her Christian preschool and interpreted by her four-year-old mind.

"Yeah, mommy!  I could go to jail just like Jesus! And they might put a crown on my forehead!  And it would PINCH!  And then he walked and they yelled KILL HIM KILL HIM, and then they put holes in his hands and stuck him RIGHT HERE with a stick and then he was dead.  But now he's in heaven and in our hearts."

Yikes.  At least now I know who to blame for the wiffle bat violence.  Damn preschool.  ;-)     

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Restaurant Time Warp

Scott's mom and step-dad came into town to visit this weekend, and they offered to let us go out tonight while they watched the kids.  This meant that Scott and I got to go out on our third date in a matter of three weeks.  This is UNPRECEDENTED, people.  I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.  Also, I'm running out of cute outfits to wear.

We decided to kick it old school and go to Vincenzo's Ristorante.  We haven't been there in years, but for some reason it sounded perfect tonight.  While we were waiting for our table, a cocktail waitress saw me making googly eyes at Scott and asked me if he was a keeper.  He told her that I must like him a little bit, since we'd actually gone to Vincenzo's for our first Valentine's Day ever, which was more than 11 years ago. 

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See?  We even took pictures to commemorate the occasion.  Goodness we were babies.  And dorks for bringing a camera to a restaurant and taking pictures across the table from each other.  Okay, fine...I was the dork who brought the camera.  But it was Valentine's Day!  And Scott was dating me so he's a dork by association.

Then tonight, the hostess took us to our table, and I kid you not - she sat us at EXACTLY the same table we sat at 11 years ago.  So we snapped some camera phone shots, for comparison purposes.

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So much has changed, but the waitress was right...Scott's still a keeper.  And I'm still a dork, but what can you do.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Money Shot

Last Week, I thought it might be fun to dig out my old dance costumes from when I was a little girl and let Ashley try them on.

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Once Owen saw all the attention Ashley was getting, he wanted to wear the ballerina costume too.  And since I am a non-gender-role espousing mother, I put it on him.

He danced up and down the hallway, gay as a little lark.  And by gay, I mean happy.  Really, I do.

Then he saw my hand reaching for the camera.  And as happy as he'd been a moment before, he was now equally incensed.  "OFF, Mama!  OFF!" he shouted as he ran towards me, already trying to wiggle out of his sequined constraint.

I tried to convince him to keep it on a little longer, but he wasn't having any of it.  Apparently he realized that the picture I was about to take would haunt him for years to come.  Oh, how I could have embarrassed him!  Just think of the lost opportunities...bringing out the photo album the first time his girlfriend came over, sending it in for the baby picture section of his high school yearbook, slipping it in to the slide show at his wedding reception...  All gone in an instant.

Oh well.  I'm sure someday I'll take a picture of him that has equal embarrassment potential. 

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If I can ever get him to look at the camera again. 

Monday, March 22, 2010

Trying to Look at the Glass Half Full

So, remember when I was trying to book a romantic getaway for me and Scott?

And we were going to go to Hilton Head, South Carolina?

And Expedia wouldn't let me BOOK IT, despite my multiple clicking attempts?

Well, if things had gone my way, we would have been in Hilton Head last week.  Strolling hand-in-hand on the beach in front of our hotel, the Marriott Resort & Spa.  Completely immersed in each other as we gazed out at the ocean on a lovely Monday evening, oblivious to our surroundings.

Luckily I'm not in charge.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,589402,00.html

I think Expedia saved my life.  Now that's some customer service.

Sally O'Malley Reincarnated

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Ashley decided she wanted to wear her purple velour sweatsuit to her preschool's spring program.

We call it her "Grandma Outfit."  Partly because her grandma bought it for her, and partly because she looks like a grandma when she wears it. But Ashley doesn't care - she loves it.

We had no idea what she'd be doing at the spring program, so I had no legitimate veto rights regarding her wardrobe selection.  As I've mentioned before here on the blog, Ashley is like Fort Knox when it comes to revealing the substance of her preschool programs.  She won't tell us a thing about what to expect.  Every time I'd ask her, "Are you singing any songs?  Are you putting on a play?  Do you need to wear anything special?"  She'd simply smile slyly and sing-song "Mom-my, it's a suh-pri-uzz!"

Luckily, the preschool newsletter had somewhat filled us in, so we knew the theme of the program was "Friends Around the World." We would be "traveling" to Mexico, China, Ireland, Hawaii and Africa and then sample foods from these countries after the program was over.  As the stay-at-home parent who handles preschool drop-off and pick-up, Scott signed up to bring a food dish hailing from the grand country of Mexico.  See, he is very smart, because that meant we could just bring chips and salsa.    

So, we showed up at the preschool on Friday at 12:30 on the dot, chips and salsa in hand, expecting to be thoroughly entertained for the next 30 minutes by 4-5 year-olds doing 4-5 year old globally themed activities.

We patiently sat through the first group of performers, who danced the hula from Hawaii.  Then the next group twirled paper umbrellas from China.  Ashley sat patiently in her purple sweatsuit, waiting for her moment. 

And then, the program informed us, it was time for the Mexican hat dance.

Ashley and four fellow classmates gathered in a circle around a sombrero.  The music started.

Everyone froze.

Everyone except Ashley.

Her face lit up, she backed away from that sombrero and started dancing this little choreographed heel kick dance.  I would have described it as more Russian in origin than Mexican, but what do I know.  Whatever it was, it was hilarious.  She couldn't have cared less that she was the only one dancing....she had her moves down and was having a blast.   

The music picked up and and she grabbed the frozen kids' hands and twirled them around that sombrero like they had never been twirled before.  Then she backed up and kicked some more until the music came to a stop and the overcrowded room of parents and grandparents burst into cheers and applause.  It was pure purple velour Sally O'Malley awesomeness.  I laughed so hard I cried.

And you know what?  I wasn't surprised at all.  Man, do I love my daughter. 

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Pip Pip Cheerio

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On Saturday morning, I woke up to find Ashley sitting on top of me.

"Mommy, we have a girl date today."

And she was right.  We did. 

It was cousin Ellie's 4th birthday party, and I was planning to take Ashley and then stick around in case my sister-in-law Jennifer needed any help.  I'd been telling Ashley about it all week.

All the invitees were instructed to come dressed in princess dresses for a tea party extravaganza.  Ashley eventually settled on wearing a pink dress with a sparkly crown.  I settled on jeans and a sweater.  Truth be told, I really wanted to wear a sparkly crown too but I didn't think I could pull it off.  Plus I don't think they sell them at Old Navy.

Oh, if only I could go back to my childhood, when wearing sparkly princess crowns was socially acceptable. Oh, how I loved sparkly things!  Sparkly barrettes, sparkly lip gloss, sparkly nail polish...  Hmm.  No wonder I like Twilight so much.  I'm addicted to sparkle.

Anyway, once we arrived, Ashley forgot all about her "girl date" with me.  I don't blame her.  How can a mom in Old Navy jeans compete with 5 little girls dressed to the nines?  Plus there were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into stars.  And butter mints!

(I think maybe I ate too many of the butter mints.  Sorry, Jennifer.)

We had such a lovely time that I wish we could go a tea party every weekend!  Although next time, I'm definitely wearing some sparkle.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Hug Your Elevators

Last week, I had to stay at work late one night.  Which isn't a big deal.  It happens all the time when you're a lawyer.  Bill, bill bill, and all that jazz.

By the time I finally wrapped up everything I had to do, the place was pretty much deserted.  I put on my coat, grabbed my laptop bag and headed out to the elevators on the 19th floor. 

I pushed the button.

And then I waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Then I thought to myself, "Hey, I guess the button is broken."  So I did what any sensible problem-solver would do.  I walked up a couple flights of stairs to my firm's lobby on the 21st floor and pressed the elevator button up there.

And then I waited.  And waited.  And waited.

And then I thought to myself, "Well, this one's not working either."  So I walked down a flight of stairs to the 20th floor, since I hadn't pushed that button yet. 

Guess what happened?  (It didn't work).   

So I walked down a a few more flights to the 16th floor, which is the building's break room area and accessible without a key card.  Surely the button would work there!

(It didn't).

And then I realized, "Crap.  The elevators are broken."

I pondered my options.  Option 1:  Walk back up three flights of stairs to my office and try to figure out who to call for help in a virtually abandoned building.  Option 2:  Walk down the remaining 16 flights of stairs. 

And I decided "Pshaw!  Sixteen flights of stairs is no big whoop!  BRING it."

So I walked down the stairs.  Which are made out of concrete.  In my heels.  With a big old laptop bag slung across my shoulder.  Really super fast, because everyone knows that serial killers congregate in stairwells after 7:00 pm. 

In retrospect, I probably should have gone for Option 1.  Because for the past six days, I've been hobbling around like an old lady and saying things like "Oof!" when I stand up from the couch.

Do you think I could get workers' comp for this?  Maybe I should go see a lawyer.  Preferably one who works in a place where the elevators work.

Man, I Feel Like a Wo-mom

An unprecedented event has happened at our house.

Actually, now that I think about it, a couple of unprecedented things have happened at our house.  But since the other couple things involve potty training, I'll put those in the TMI file for a rainy day.  Or for when the boys bring their first girlfriends over to meet us. 

Anyways, back to the unprecedented event.  Are you ready?

Scott and I have gone out on two dates in the past two weeks.  Yup, you heard me.  TWO dates in TWO weeks.

The first week my mom just offered out of the blue to watch the kids, so that was a heavenly surprise.  I put on a sweater dress with black tights and bright red lipstick and we went out for sushi.  It was divine.  The second week we had plans with a couple friends who couldn't find a sitter, so at the last minute we decided to head out solo instead.  I put on a little black dress and dangly earrings and pinkish lipstick and we went out for Italian.  Not as good as the sushi night, but I think we were just plain getting spoiled by then and didn't know how to fully appreciate it anymore.

It's so nice to go out to dinner with my husband and feel like a woman instead of a mom.  A girl needs to wear a little red lipstick and some dangly earrings every now and then, you know what I mean? 

In an effort to feel a little less mom-ish, I've also started trying to do this new thing with my hair.  Basically I'm just curling it all willy-nilly and going for a blonde tousled look.  Like Marilyn.  Or Kimber, from Nip/Tuck.


It might be coming out more like Meredith Baxter-Birney, though.


I'm still working on it.

Maybe if we get a third date next week, I'll be ready to really rock it out.  Until then...I am wo-mom, hear me roar.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Little Cannibals

Well, based on the comments to my last post, there is a high demand to see Ashley's collage of beautiful ladies.  I wish I could comply, but I can't for two reasons:

1.  This blog is rated PG, and Ashley's collage was definitely PG-13.

2.  Ashley insisted that we give the collage to her Nana.  So we did.  :-)  Luckily my mom is a good sport, although I don't think she'll be hanging the collage of beautiful ladies on her fridge anytime soon.

So today, I'm instead going to post about another semi-disturbing moment in the life and times of Megan.  This one is brought to you courtesy of the achingly monotonous animated show Little Bear.


Do any of your kids watch this show?  We catch it on the weekends sometimes, mostly because it is the quietest little cartoon on television.  It's so.....peaceful.  There aren't any flashy colors or songs or characters - it's just quiet little adventures about flapjacks and gardening and father bears in three piece suits. Granted, it's a little odd and a little more than annoying, but since it's so quiet I can usually tune it out entirely.  Nothing's better than cat-napping on the couch while Little Bear plays in the background.  Well, maybe taking a real nap in a real bed without three children sitting on you would be better, but that's not going to happen any time soon so you take what you can get.

Anyhoo, back to my disturbing moment.  So there I was, sitting on the couch with Ashley, completely doped up on an episode of Little Bear where he and his delightful little animal buddies (the aptly named Hen, Duck and Owl) were preparing a tea party.  Hen, who is quite fussy, was all in a twitter about how she still had to go pick strawberries, so she instructed Duck on how to make the shortcake.

And then I heard it.

"First, you need to separate the eggs," said Hen.

Wait, what?  Did I just hear that?
    
Cue me rewinding the TiVo.

"First, you need to separate the eggs."

Yup, she said it.  And then she was off to pick her strawberries.  What followed was a scene with Duck putting the eggs in different spots all around the room as she had taken Hen's words literally instead of realizing she was merely giving baking instructions.  Oh, the quiet comedy of Little Bear.

Except not so comedic, because Hen just basically instructed Duck to bake her BABIES.   

Most ducked-up tea party ever.     

Monday, March 8, 2010

This is Why I Don't Post Craft Projects On My Blog

On Saturday morning, I lounged sideways on the big chair in the living room while drinking my morning coffee.  And by "coffee", I mostly mean vanilla caramel coffee-mate because oh my word, that stuff is divine. 

The boys were playing underfoot while Ashley roamed around without a purpose.  She eventually plopped on my lap while I balanced my coffee-mate precariously.

"Mommy, I want to make some art."

Okay, that sounds easy enough.  "Well, what kind of art do you want to make?" I asked.

"I want you to pick the kind of art," she responded.  So I threw out various options:

"Do you want to color?"

"No."

"Do you want to paint?"

"No."

"Do you want to use your stamps?"

"No."

At this point, I was running out of art to choose from.  "Well, what kind of art do you want to do?"

Ashley looked annoyed.  "Mommy, it's still your turn to pick."

Then we got in a little side-coversation about how it was certainly not my turn to pick anymore, but I'll spare you the play-by-play.  Suffice it to say, I lost.  So I ended up suggesting that she make a collage.

Her eyes widened.  "A collage?  What's a collage?"

We then went around the house together, picking up old magazines and ads from the weekly circular, while I explained the ins and outs of collage-making.  "You just find pretty pictures in a magazine, cut them out, and then paste them on a new piece of paper."  As I was explaining it, I thought to myself, boy - making collages sounds kind of boring.  But Ashley seemed to dig the idea nonetheless.

So I set her up at the kitchen table with some safety scissors and a gluestick, and went back to my giant mug of coffee-mate.  A little while later Ashley called me in to see her finished product.  

"Look mommy!  I made a collage of beautiful ladies."

Apparently Ashley had discovered the Kohl's lingerie ad.  And all of the pretty pictures contained therein.   

I'll give her this.  She certainly knows how to make collage-making exciting.    

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Maybe We Should Have Just Gotten a Dog

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This week has been a tough one at work.  I'm billing hours out the wazoo and still haven't finished everything I need to get done.

I've just been drained.  I've got nothin' left at the end of the day.  I'm an empty vessel.

I came home the other night, bleary-eyed with achy feet after a long day of work.  The minute I stepped in the door I took my coat off, kicked my fancy shoes across the mud room and started trudging towards the kitchen.

Ashley greeted me on my way there.  "Mommy, where are your socks?"

You know, I was so tired I actually thought to myself "Hey...where are my socks?" before I remembered that I had gone sockless that day, all in the name of fashion.  My winter footwear problems never cease, do they?

So I said to Ashley, "I'm not wearing any socks."  Which, to be fair, was really kind of a dumb response.

"I know you're not wearing any socks, mommy.  Where are your socks?"

"Oh.  I guess they're in my drawer upstairs?"

Ashley pondered a minute.  And then she asked me "Are your feet cold?"

And I said "Yes, my feet are cold, honey."

She nodded, knowing now what needed to be done.  "You need your socks, mommy."  And she started skipping towards the stairs as my grateful eyes watched her go.  Here was my little bunny, worried about her mommy's cold feet at the end of a long day, off to fetch her some cozy socks.  I was just overcome by the sweetness.   

Until I realized she was skipping right past the stairs and on down the hallway.  She looked over her shoulder as she passed me by and said "You should go get them.  They're in your drawer."

I hear dogs don't insist on watching Caillou, either.  If only I'd known.