Conversations

Tonight my family went out to eat for dinner and stayed out past out normal hours. (We were out past dark! I know, it was scary!)  The restaurant wasn't in a bad neighborhood, but it wasn't in a place you assume is safe either.

As we walked back to our car, I noticed Military Dad and I have this natural chemistry. We normally walk in a way where my purse and/or children are in between us. Since we don't stay out late with the kiddos, we've never had an opportunity to add "walking down dark streets" to our normal walking pattern.

Without discussing our options or meticulous planning, we just started walking down this poorly lit street with our 3 year old son. I grabbed Little Dude's hand, so my husband would have his hands free. When we got to the car, I buckled Little Dude in, while MD stood outside the car.

Was it over cautious, bordering on paranoid? Maybe. The thing I noticed the most was, neither of us asked the other to do this. It just happened.

After driving away I mentioned how cool it was that this happened.

Military Dad: That was cool. I figured I'm the person who looks big so people won't do anything stupid. While you're the person that, if it came down to it, could actually defend us!

Other than laughing really hard, I still haven't come up with the appropriate response!

Fishing with the kiddos

I mentioned in a previous post that we enjoy watching the Wild Kratt's. The kids love the animated part where the Kratt brothers rescue animals from poachers who would use the animals in fashion, cooking and robots. Yeah, the last one confuses me a bit too.

Two episodes have managed to shape my children's minds in no way I could imagine. You may recall the earthworm episode that now has my daughter and I "rescuing" worms from certain death on warm sidewalks. The other episode is about Bass fishing. In the episode they use lures and practice catch and release. After watching this one episode, my kids felt they were now experience fishermen and wanted to go fishing.

For several months my  kids have wanted to go fishing at a lake on Camp Pendleton, Lake O'Neal. Unfortunately, when Military Dad and I had this bright idea, the lake was in the process of being drudged. This process pretty much messes up the lake for a couple of months, so we had to inform the kiddos, it just wasn't going to happen.

One weekend we had nothing planned, which in of itself is a weird concept. We asked the kids what they wanted to do and Princess mentioned fishing. It had been three months since the drudging was completed, so the lake should be back to normal. The plan was to eat a picnic, rent a small boat and enjoy watching the kids catch some big fish. (The lake happens to be stocked and is catch-and-release). We loaded up a small picnic and the Cars and Barbie fishing poles and set off.

When we arrived at Lake O'Neal, we sat down at the picnic tables and ate a picnic. Since I was wearing my beach-going flip-flops, I managed to get stung by a yellow jacket....on the arch of my foot. In the midst of tears, a lady, who happened to be a nurse, came over and removed the stinger. This whole time, my kids didn't stop eating, they had their priorities.

The wonderful nurse explained how she brought her grandson fishing and he was easily catching small fish right off the dock. MD and I figured since this was the kid's first time fishing (ever) we would try the dock first, before renting a boat. It turned out to be a great idea.

The nurse and her grandson were leaving so they left their worms with us and we headed down to the dock.When we pull that first night crawler out to attach to the hook, I get a good look at my children's faces. The looks on their faces were putting the hook, the worm and fishing together. Oh crap, now I remember both Wild Kratt's episodes and begin thinking of ways to explain myself.

Little Dude asks why we have to use worms. MD, not seeing either episode explains how the fish like to eat worms. Princess then chimes in about how we should use lures. MD has no idea what he walked into and I should probably help him. (I don't. I'm still thinking of ways to explain this so everything will be alright.)

Minutes of MD explaining the concept of fishing to the kids pass. Finally, MD and I have managed to bait the hooks and move on to casting the line. Little Dude gets his line in first and within seconds he already has "a bite." Princess' line goes in next and she starts getting "bites."

Little Dude's first catfish!

The catfish is about 4-5 inches.

Princess' first crappie!

Crappie is well, it's small.

Little Dude's second fish, Bluegill.

Now we are catching incredibly small fish as soon as we put the hook back in the water. Little Dude and Princess completely forget about the earthworms and get lost in catching fish. During the next 20 minutes, the fish are actually biting so fast, MD and I don't have time to take pictures!

Little Dude manages to catch a catfish and a Bluegill in 20 minutes. His hooks were swallowed so we had to almost surgically remove them to ensure the fish would survive. Princess managed to catch a catfish, 2 Bluegill and a Crappie in that 20 minutes.

We decide we have had a great time fishing and want to go out on a boat. I get this brilliant idea (it was actually one of my dumber ones), to rent a paddle boat. The dumb part was that the wind was blowing pretty well. I left out the whole part of actually having to power the boat by pedaling; I figured that was implied as a stupid idea. The only bright idea we had after renting the stupid boat was that we would pedal INTO the wind and float back towards the dock.

For the next 15 minutes, MD and I pedal, and pedal, and pedal....and pedal. I may have downplayed how much the wind was actually blowing, because we got about 50 feet from the dock. At this point, my legs are burning and I decide to call it "float time." We floated for about a minute before realizing the wind was blowing us away from the dock. MD and I decided at this point the boat ride was over and struggled to get the boat back to the dock.

During this painful experience, the kids are enjoying themselves and trying to get us to take the boat out further. They had no clue that MD and I just completely burned off both our lunch and breakfast for that day, and that we were desperately hoping the pain in our legs would go away enough to make the climb back up the dock, to the car.

I now understand why my parents took me out on a paddle boat once and then we never did that again. MD and I can now say "we did that" and never do it again. The day will come when they will have kids and say to themselves, "Remember that time when mom and dad took us out on one of those? We should do that, it was fun!" Then I hope MD and I are both there when they pedal that damn thing back to the dock and walk up with that look on their face that says, "Ah-ha, never again!"

I got skills!

I haven't figured out how to get the image to the correct size Blogger wants...evidently their "square image" is different than my idea of a square image. Grrrr. I hated geometry class!

So I share my artistic talents for today. I felt I needed a trademark, so-to-speak. Something that encompassed me and for my life.

So here is my sketch:

And now there are three....

In my last post I discussed the wonderful feelings that go along with being a military spouse as you get ready for deployment time. They suck, plain and simple. It's hard getting ready for your loved one to leave. The hardest part is the day of departure.

The day Military Dad has to leave, we go through our morning routine as usual. Kids are dressed and fed breakfast. During a few moments, I can tell Military Dad is about to break down, so I keep him and the kids busy with tiny distractions. I'm not sure why I do this. Part of me questions whether "protecting" the kids from seeing their father upset about leaving, is even a good thing. Yes, it would upset them, but would it be that bad? Wouldn't they want to know that this isn't easy for him? Wouldn't they want to know that leaving them is breaking his heart? So, I'm not entirely sure who I'm "protecting" at this point, MD, me or them?

At one point, he pulls me aside and says, "I don't know how you can be so strong?!"

Really? I'm going nutso on the inside, so now I'm confused as to how I look on the outside, because somehow I look like I have it all together. Yay?


We decided he would wait until the kids were both in school before he would start his trip. Fortunately, I guess, the kids didn't really react the way we thought they would. We were prepared for anguish, crying and having to tear kids off Daddy. Little Dude hugged him and went off to reading circle in preschool, without a tear or look back. Princess got attacked by all of her little friends at school; somehow, despite our genetics, she seems to be a "popular" child. Daddy barely got a hug good-bye, before she was pulled off in the other direction.

We were left rather empty after both kids. No drama at all. In the long run, I think that was the best way; however, when you are prepared for the worst, it kind of comes as a let down.

Everything is packed into the car, and one last check to make sure he has everything he needs...now it is finally that time. This is honestly the worst part in all of this. I have to break the hug, watch him get into the car and drive away. After this, it will actually seem easier because you get into a rhythm and days can drift by. However, the good-bye, right before, is awful.

Sitting here typing this it actually takes me back to two previous deployments and a multitude of underways. (Underways are short periods, usually 1 week up to 3 months). Watching him drive away was actually much easier than watching him deploy on a ship. Deploying on a ship takes HOURS. You may think that makes it easier, because you get to see him and say good-bye longer. It doesn't. It allows you MUCH more time to wallow in pain and self-pity. Plus there are several good-bye periods when they leave on the ship.

The first good-bye is pretty hard because it's the physical one. This is the hugging part, where you break the hug and watch him walk to the ship. Then you keep waving to each other, as he boards the ship. Now comes a period where he disappears for awhile. This is usually where the sailors go to their bunks/rooms and change into their uniforms. MD always wore his "whites" when he deployed.

If you are lucky, now you get to wave at your sailor for more time as they stand on the various decks available on the ship. If your sailor has any involvement in the steering (they call it driving, which is nuts-don't get me started on Navy terms or acronyms, that's an entirely different blog) or engineering sections, you may not get to see them, as they are rather important in the actual departing from the pier.

Now the engines start up, the ship blows its horn, and the lines (ropes) are thrown. This is when your heart leaps from that nice spot in your chest, up into your throat. The ship starts to actually pull away from the pier. This is when you look around and notice the difference between the first-timer spouses and the ones who have done this before. The first-timers aren't able to hide their tears; they are going between bawling and hysterics. The spouses who have been there, done that, are wiping away tears they allow to fall, underneath their sunglasses (yes, it's probably dark outside, but they don't care). Then they take those deep breaths and walk to their cars, usually dragging 2-3 kids.

First-timers, I'm not making fun of the water works, I was there and I waited until I couldn't see that stupid ship on the horizon, before I left. The only difference, is now I know how much easier it is to deal with stuff if I get onto a schedule. Also, if anyone tries to have a conversation with one of those "experienced" spouses, it will end badly. We may look all tough and composed, but if you try to talk to us about our spouse leaving, wow.....flood gate of emotion, snot and tears. We keep sane by the mantra: "out of sight, out of mind." Also, lots of wine.

It's been two days and I'm finally to the point of having a decent conversation with someone without crying. The sunglasses are still on, but hey, at least I'm not tearing up anymore.

Having a conversation with Little Dude's teacher nearly broke me when I picked him up that afternoon. I forgot to leave my sunglasses on! She asked how I was doing, which was awful (for me, not her-she was showing concern which any other day, I would appreciate)...I could answer yes/no questions, not talk about my feelings. I quickly put my sunglasses on and somehow managed to get through the rest of the conversation.

I have to get a handle on it, because I volunteer in Princess' class on Friday. If her class does that switch rooms thing, there will be a solid 4 minutes where she can ask me how things are going! So I will end here for now, so I can get immersed into my schedule.

Plus I think our wine fridge is running quite low....Trader Joe's here I come!

It's about to get real....

It's about to get real....depressing.

Yep, shore duty is coming to an end. For those non-military spouses, that means every once in awhile the military rewards us with 2-3 years where our spouses get to stay home and work somewhat normal hours. In other words no week to month underways or 6-9 month deployments. Our spouses actually get to have that "normal" workweek, where they go to work....and then they come home the same exact evening...at a decent time!!!

Cynicism aside, I have truly enjoyed the last four years. Yep, four years. We milked this thing for all it was worth! My husband was extremely lucky in this, normal shore tours are 2-3 years long. Now as I start my lists and checklists to make sure he has everything he needs, it gets hard not to stop and think about what I am actually doing.

I am gathering my husband's stuff and getting ready to send him packing for almost 8 months without a second thought. Denial is a wonderful tool to get you through some things. The problem is when denial lets you down for that split second, your mind takes off and sends you spiraling down this rabbit hole. This rabbit hole comes complete with two completely different sides, depending on where you bounce. You either land on the "feel sorry for me" side or the "I have no reason to complain" side. There is no falling straight down, like Alice does in "Alice in Wonderland."

What normally happens when you are packing away his uniforms or artwork from the kids, you stop and think, "Why the hell am I packing his stuff up so he can leave easier?" It isn't that you are resenting doing the work, it's asking yourself, "why do I have to send my husband away? and more importantly, why do I have to act like it doesn't bother me?!"

The making lists and checklists, the actual sorting and packing his things; this busy work helps keep me occupied and out of the rabbit hole. I find myself cleaning for no apparent reason, organizing random things that have already been organized (twice), almost to the point of exhaustion, in order to not think about what happens next week.

Then that one moment sneaks in and you stop the mindless work and you get to take that trip down the rabbit hole. You start looking around at your kids and their pictures, your husband's things, and wondering why you have to be the one that gives this up. Why do you and your kids have to deal with this when 95% of the population doesn't have to?

Then the tears come, which of course, you need to hide from your kids so you don't upset them. You need to be strong for everyone in this family. A lot rests on your shoulders, and even more will be placed on them as you become a single parent for several months. It's a huge load, it really is. You are now firmly on the pity-me side of the rabbit hole.

This side only lasts long enough for you to stop crying and think one thought, "Thankfully he isn't going into combat." With that single thought you are now firmly entrenched on the "I don't deserve to feel bad" side.

Now you are no longer worthy of feeling sorry for yourself, because your spouse is only going to school on the other coast for 7 months. You will be able to call him, email him and Skype him daily, if possible. Then you start thinking that even if he was being deployed he still wouldn't be in AS much danger as the soldiers or infantrymen going into combat. What the hell would you say to those spouses as you cry your tears of pity?!

The tears are gone and anger gets you through the rest of packing, cleaning, detailing your car, gardening, etc. It's awful, but it works. You never really get mental peace, but the crying stops, so you can be strong for those who need you to be strong for them.


I just needed to vent and let some people understand what military spouses go through, mentally. I can't imagine what the kids go through. I do know several "military brats" that grew up normal though, so I have hope. I also realize that their mothers or fathers probably went through the same stuff and did their best to shelter their kids. However, the thought of reading Princess' thoughts when Military Dad gets ready for deployments would probably undo me completely. Ignorance, truly is bliss sometimes.

Any military spouses out there reading this, I salute you with a glass of wine, "Let our trip down the rabbit hole be short, and let all our spouses come home early and safe!

Am I really that strange?

I haven't been feeling great for the last few days due to some new cootie the kids brought home, in order to test my immune system.

Therefore, I conned Military Dad (MD) into going to bed early tonight so I'd have company. It's hard to be alone when your sinuses are so plugged you sound like Darth Vader when he breathes. Plus, I imagine I'm making even more attractive noises as I try to clear my previously mentioned stuffed sinuses. (My father once, not so gently, compared the sound of me blowing my nose to that of a fog horn.)

I imagine I'm not anywhere near ravishing or acting lady like, however I'm sick, so I have an excuse.

MD is truly wonderful. He lies next to me, ignoring the strange assortment of noises coming out of my nose, in order to keep me company. What a wonderful man!

Out of nowhere, a moth flies steadily for my face, threatening to beat me up with its tiny, little wings..our worse yet, land on me! Now I am forced to take evasive action in order to defend myself...I slap the crap out of myself, the bed, sheets, the wall, etc. You get the point...it was war and I was fighting with honor as the snot runs down my face.

As World War III is happening, a thought occurs to me: MD is just lying next to me, not even looking up from his damn phone!!!

Am I really that strange that I can slap the crap out of myself for about a minute straight and get no reaction or concern?!

I'd like to believe that MD knows me that well, he realized what was going on, and thought I was handling myself with the grace and eloquence required.

Doubt it, but if he can sit by with no reaction, then I get to say I handled myself well.

You can learn a lot from someone's playlist!

If you truly want to understand a person, find their music selection. It doesn't matter the type, just find those mixed tapes, burnt CDs, or those mp3 playlists and give them a listen. Those personalized, hand-picked with delicate thought,  selections of music will tell you more about someone than anything you could ever ask them.

About a year ago Military Dad (MD) and I downloaded the Google Music app, which is awesome. It takes those hundreds of CDs you have taking up space and puts them out there in the wonderful web's space. In the process of downloading millions of MB, or whatever the techno term is, we have gotten rid of literally hundreds of CDs and their cases. We no longer fear the kids getting their sticky fingers on one of our cherished CDs in fear of scratching...or breaking. (You'd think virtually indestructible would mean lasting through an encounter with Little Dude, but it doesn't.)

During this upload I let my husband do most of the work, just like a good wife should. This meant that some of his CDs from before my time were uploaded, as were a few of mine. I caught a lot of hell for my love of Megadeth; but let me tell you, when you are playing "Doom" on the computer, Megadeath is the perfect soundtrack. Plus I also went through a horrible phase where I actually enjoyed listening to country. Not that old, country music (that MD grew up listening to) but evidently the new cross-over stuff.

So as the upload progressed we learned a lot about each other's musical tastes and how they changed throughout our past: before, during and after our marriage. There used to be a time when MD would put on any Counting Crows' album and I could be passed out, asleep before the first track was done. He found it insulting, as they are his favorite band. I on the other hand found that they had this lulling quality to their music that helped a high-stressed individual find some relaxation. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.) However, as the years went by and my tolerance to the Counting Crows' music grew, I found that I actually love their music. (I do use it on my children though, it works wonderfully when the kiddos need to calm down a little.)

Almost 11 years have gone by, our musical taste has melded together and we enjoy the same things, most of the time. For the most part, our playlists are interchangeable.

Then one day I had the opportunity to actually listen to his entire workout playlist. As I have said before, I have to be tricked into exercise because I just don't enjoy working out. I've tried so many things, that I started to lose hope that I would ever find a way to get healthier.

(Insert that dun-dun-dun music here.) Then I found the recline bike at the YMCA. I can sit on my butt and pedal away. Since I don't have great knees, bike riding is supposedly preferable to my joints than running, walking, blah, blah, blah. I have an elliptical machine at home, however those machines you actually have to pay attention to what you are doing. Otherwise the stupid arm bars can pack a pretty good wallop or worse you can walk right off the platform. Either way, I enjoy losing focus and zoning out, so the recline bike is perfect. I get my exercise and a weird sort of meditation period.

One of these meditation/exercise occasions, I grew bored with the TV screen that is somehow built into this bike and started playing with the Google Music app on my phone. I knew my husband has good "workout" songs, with good solid beats, so I let it play. Normally, I only ride the bike for 30 minutes or 6 miles whichever comes last. However, that day I was feeling really good and kept pedaling.

Here I am, in my pedaling zone, spacing out, when my playlist just plays a song I was not expecting to be on my husband's playlist. For the sake of his embarrassment, I won't post the song. I will even go as far to argue, that once I got back on the bike after my sudden stop in pedaling, the song did have a great beat for working out. Even after people turned to stare at me and give me strange looks, I kept on laughing (probably louder than I thought, due to the headphones) and pedaling.

For the sake of my poor feet being caught in the pedals and people giving me looks, I think I will stick to my own playlists from now on. At least then, if I put my own weird song in, I will know it's coming. The sneaky part of me wants to add a few songs to his playlist, so he enjoys the same thing I endured. However, unlike him, I don't lift weights. I would feel horrible if he hurt himself because of some song I added. It would also be equally horrifying if somehow his headphone cord came loose and now he is blaring some song like, Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" in a room full of weight lifters. I doubt they could appreciate that the song has good, strong beats....gets you through recline biking like a champ!

If you truly want to learn more about your partner, then take a listen to their playlists. I would not recommend exercising without a preview first, just for health reasons.

Why the hatred?

I apologize for this post. I try very hard to keep this blog light and humorous. However after reading several social media sites and listening to people speak to each other, I'm really upset.

I'm not going to get into politics or religious beliefs, but I'm actually disgusted with our poor country.

After watching the election (before and after), I'm absolutely amazed with how people treat other human beings.

Whether you are happy or upset over who was or was not elected, is no excuse to post or say some of the things I've seen on social media sites..

What happened to the Golden Rule? How can you be the voice behind stopping kids from being bullied, when your own words and actions are hurtful?

Differences are supposed to be a good thing; that's what makes us stronger. The more ideas brought forward makes us stronger, better to defeat those who would do harm.

If we become a country where people are afraid to voice their ideas, we are no better than the countries that hate us.

People still try everything they can to come to our country due to the oppression they face in their homeland. Would you risk everything to come here to find out it's not that different? If this happens, we have truly lost our influence as a world power.


Please keep this in mind today and in the future: Your beliefs are YOURS, that is what makes you a special individual. Instead of trying to force others to believe what you believe, try listening and becoming educated about our differences.

Education is truly the most important weapon ever. Instead of trying to figure out who is right or wrong, why can't we sit down and have civilized conversations; we may actually learn something? We could actually find a middle ground that makes most everyone happy. Instead, we choose to label ourselves and further divide and alienate each other, in order to be right or better than others.

In the grand scheme of things, would you rather have people around you who support you, no matter what you believe and try to work together? Or would you rather be right (or think you are) and be completely alone?

Would you rather someone listen to your opinion and value you as an individual, or tell you that you are an idiot and yell at you, for no other reason than they believe something different?

Please be good to each other. Passion is a wonderful thing, however if you can't say or do something without being harmful: for the good of the country and the human race; just keep it to yourself!

Irony is a 6 year old Princess

Princess absolutely loves all animals and most insects. She learned to be afraid of spiders from watching me, otherwise she would probably love spiders too.

A few months ago we happened to find a cute show on PBS called Wild Kratt's. The idea of the show, is that two brothers, the Kratt's, are environmentalists and save all sorts of endangered creatures from people who want to use them in fashion, cooking and some guy who wants to make them into robots. In their attempts to save the animals, they throw in some educational facts about the animals or their habitats. It's cute and educational.

We watched an episode about earthworms and why they come up to the surface when it rains. Evidently, even adults can learn a thing or two, because I thought it was because they would drown in the water. Well, they don't. They just come up out of the ground because the surface is now wet enough, they can eat things on the surface without drying out. Near the end of the show, kids were running around after a rainstorm, collecting worms and throwing them into the grass (they were supposed to set them down gently), so they wouldn't get caught on the sidewalks and dry out.

Another interesting fact is that worms sense vibrations caused by moles and other ground diggers. When they feel the digging vibration, they go to the surface to avoid being eaten. When you see Robins pecking the ground, they are causing similar vibrations that move the worms up towards the surface.

The Wild Kratt's show failed to educate us on one other thing that causes vibrations...lawnmowers.


Most days, on our walks to Princess' school, the sprinklers cause the worms to come to the surface and the worms end up on the sidewalks. Much of our normal routine now has become Princess and I picking up these worms and tossing them back into the grass.

We made it past the first round of worms and progressed onto the park area, just before her school. This area is a major earthworm gauntlet. Grass on both sides, creates a virtual landmine area of dead and dying worms. Today was no different in this respect, we tossed the living worms into the grassy area and tried to avoid stepping on the dried up worms.

It was different however, with the reason why the worms had ventured onto the pavement. The landscapers had arrived and were mowing the park's grass. Here we come as nature lovers, tree-huggers, whatever you want to call us, launching these poor worms back into the grass they were so desperately trying to escape from, just to be shredded by lawnmower blades. Yay, compassion!

Fortunately, Princess didn't put the two things together and went to school feeling good about her rescue efforts. I'm having an internal battle, between feeling sad, that I sentenced worms that managed to escape to die a horrible death, and absolute laughter at the irony of the entire situation.

By the way, don't let your kids watch that episode if you plan to take them fishing in the near future. I'll share that story another day.

Haunted Houses

Being completely honest, I don't like Halloween much. I already came equipped with an incredibly overactive imagination. I don't need someone else to scare the crap out of me, I do it just fine on my own! After having kids, my imagination has taken on an entirely different level of horror. (Evidently, most parents have these horrifying thoughts, so I feel slightly better....though not much.)

After blocking most of this memory from my childhood, I will do my best to share a story my dad takes pride in retelling with the Haunted Mansion at Disney Land. Evidently before the ride even officially started, I managed to work myself out from the safety bar and hid on the bottom of the car floor. After getting my dad yelled at for allowing me to work magic and get out of that intricate safety restraint device, I promised to sit nicely for the costumed person working the ride. The one and only time I opened my eyes, after begging from my dad, an apparition of a werewolf was sitting on my lap. I was glad my parents couldn't afford all the drinks I begged for at that point, because I would have emptied my bladder and upset the worker further.

Another horrifying moment in my young impressionable life was when I was trick-or-treating. For some reason my dad couldn't come, so my mom took me. This involved only going to houses she knew were safe and well-lit. My mom has some paranoia issues. One of the last houses we stopped at, had this stuffed gorilla sitting on a porch bench. Yes, I realize you know where this is going, however I was probably 4 or 5. Either my mom didn't register the stuffed gorilla or she knew, which is much worse, but she walked right up and rang the doorbell for me. I wasn't going near the porch swing. The nice lady offered me candy, however I had to walk to her door to get it from her. Candy to a 4 year old will take your mind off about anything. So up I walked, forgetting all about the damn porch swing. I didn't even get my candy and the guy probably coughed or something, hell, he may have even said "hello," I flew off the porch and didn't stop running until I was safely across the street. My mom and I walked home after that, however we had to stop every few minutes so my mom could wipe the tears from her face and catch her breathe from laughing so hard.

I've gone to a few haunted houses since then and it always seems to happen that I am the one they pick on. Yes, I realize that the one time I went to Six Flags I wore a glow-in-the-dark Phantom of the Opera shirt, so yes, that time I had it coming. However the other times, I feel that I was singled out to be terrorized.

Once during my senior year in high school or my freshmen year in college I wanted to go to a haunted house in St. Louis. It wasn't necessarily in the best part of St. Louis and since my parents worked there at the time, I felt safer if one of them went along. So with a group of my friends and my mother (my dad refused to go) we went off to a haunted house. That year the guy who did the monster designs for the Predator and Alien movies, supposedly worked with this haunted house, so it was supposed to be extra scary.

During the hour wait my mother took the time to prepare me by bringing my attention to the fact that it's just people in costumes and props. There was also something about mind over matter.

After waiting for an hour in line we approached the beginning of the door. My mom and I were "volunteered" to be first through, so we sat back and watched the other victims go through first.  We watched as a guy on the other side of the curtain brought down a large stick, and whacked it on the floor before you went through. My mom leans in to me and says, "Watch, the guy waits until you aren't paying attention, then he brings the stick down. It is just a way to get you unsettled." Oh my god, my mom is a genius! I am now in awe of her wisdom and have this new found bravery. This haunted house is NOT going to scare me!

We finally make it up to the door, my mom starts looking around at other things. I am ever-vigilant, I will NOT allow this guy to catch me off guard  He didn't either....he waited for my mom. He brought that stick down so hard I thought he broke the thing. I am amazed with myself, but I hear this screaming and I am horrified that it might be me. Wait a second....it's not me, I turn and look at my mother, who at this point is leaning back, hands up in the "FREEZE" position, screaming bloody hell. She is now what we would call "unsettled."

Our group of 7 is moved forward and I am literally pushing her through the maze of darkness. She is alternately screaming and saying "no, no" but we are pushing through. A guy dressed up as the Hellraiser dude comes out of some hidden door that my mom didn't see. She almost runs right into him, sees him, screams and then runs to the back of our group. Alone, I continue on until I realize my mom is now running back to the front....screaming. The same guy who scared her in the front, got her again in the back of the group. At this point, all I can do is laugh...hysterically.

Several more costumed characters give her some exercise when we finally reach the room the Alien movie guy helped with. You walk into a square room that has a huge statue of the Alien in a corner. You are meant to walk around him and go through the opposite door. My mom finally has a chance to catch her breath, as this room is well-lit, so she can see all the threats coming. She leans into me and says, "See this room, you are supposed to stare at this stupid statue while someone comes through that other door and scares the s*&% out of you!" So while she watches the opposite door, we watch with fascination as the huge Alien statue is slowly leaning forward. It's animatronic, so the rest of us know that it can't really go anywhere. What you don't realize is that my ever-vigilant mother decided the best place to keep look-out was directly in front of the Alien.

"Um, Mom....check out the Alien thing, it's moving." My mom turns and looks, at this moment the Alien opens its mouth like in the movie and that thing inside launches out! My mom loses it, screams and runs away through the opposite door. A friend of mine walks up to me and says, "Wow! I have never seen an old lady run so fast!"

We do our best to keep up with my mom, but our entire group at this point is laughing hysterically. I am laughing so hard that I am crying and coughing because I cannot get air into my lungs. The Hellraiser guy comes out of another hidden door to see if I'm okay, or if I need medical help. My mom notices him and runs away screaming. I convince the guy that I am in fact okay and he then looks at me and asks, "Is she going to be okay?"

We finally get to the end of the maze where you go down a slide and then you are done. I decide my poor mom has had enough at this point, so I volunteer to go first. I slide down into a pit filled with fluffy stuff and a guy in a costume helps me up and out of the pit. Here comes my mom....screaming.

The nice costumed employee reaches down to help her out of the pit, but she is batting away his hands and screaming.

"Mom! We're done, it's over, he's trying to help you out of the pit!"

After saying good-bye to my friends, my mother turns to me and says, "Well, that was fun! I will NEVER go with you to a haunted house again."
At this point, I take the opportunity to be a smart a## and say, "What happened to the mind over matter thing?" She gave me a look at which, I thought it best to shut my mouth.

I think this one wonderful experience with my mother, more than repaid the gorilla experience. I realize that this one time was a fluke and I still could not go through another haunted house with that much success.

I just hope that my kids will ask their father to go with them through the haunted houses, I'm not even going to pretend I'm brave enough to go again. I also appreciate the extreme entertainment my mother gave me that night and will do my best to not repeat that for my children.

Motivational Surprise

Lately, Little Dude has been wanting to wear only one specific pair of shoes. The problem is, this one pair has shoelaces. Every parent out there knows exactly why this is an issue. Usually when you are rushing around trying to get everyone mostly dressed, homework and lunch in the backpack, breakfast eaten and everyone in the car...the 3 year-old needs you to tie his shoes, causes everything to come to a screeching halt. Why, of all the mornings when you don't have the time, why oh why, can't he wear the slip-ons or the Velcro shoes?

In trying to avoid these breakdowns, I have told him that he needs to alternate his shoes. Little Dude does not compromise well if it is not what he wants at the time. He's what I like to refer to as stubborn. Some mornings, this alternate shoe method works, some mornings it doesn't.

Last night he wanted to go outside to play and I told him to wear his slip-ons or Velcro; I was making dinner and couldn't stop to tie his shoes. He threw his customary fit, but I stayed strong and told him that if he could tie his own shoes, he could wear them whenever he wanted. Surprisingly, the next 30 minutes involved him sitting down in the kitchen, tying and retying his own shoes, while I made dinner. Unfortunately for him, dinner was made before he got his second shoe tied well enough.

Little Dude in one session of stubborn pride, managed to get the basics of shoe tying down. Since Little Dude has always excelled in the motor skills department, I imagined I had a few more sessions using this argument before he would pick up the nuances that made the bow actually stay tied.

This morning the fire alarm decided to wake up the kids promptly at 6:00 AM. A train could pass by the house and neither kid would even stir in their sleep. A low battery that causes a fire alarm to "chirp" wakes them up effectively. Now we had 2 hours before we even needed to leave for school!

Breakfast is made and eaten. Tonight's homework is completed. Kids are dressed. Lunch is made. Only 1 hour left before school. Little Dude decides he wants to play outside in the backyard. We have a discussion  about tying his own shoes and he disappears.

After about five minutes of eerie quiet, he screams, "Mommy, I did it!" He comes running around the corner with one shoe tied correctly. Inside my head, I am screaming, "Yay!" with him because he's only 3 years old and he just did something awesome. Outside I have to maintain my poise and say something like, "Great job! Now let's get the other one done."

This remaining shoe took about 3 minutes, but he did it! Then I got to give him high fives and congratulate him thoroughly. Then the realization that he can actually tie his own shoes hit me....yes, I did a happy dance.

For you doubters out there, Princess was conveniently located at the kitchen table reading her book, while I was drinking my coffee. Military Dad was already at work, so he had absolutely no help in tying his shoes.

Also, for those worried about the fire alarm battery...that's another story; however, a brand new smoke detector has been installed with a fresh new battery for back-up.

When it comes to shots, I am a pansy!

As I sit here nursing my homemade pumpkin smoothie after yoga class (yes, I do love California and what it has done to me), I think about the pain my upper body is in. I'm not talking just the soreness associated with working out, I am talking about that feeling you get when your muscles are fatigued and shaking uncontrollably. I love yoga right up to the point that my body says, "nope, no more" and then my legs or arms start shaking in a most epileptic manner.

I have been told several times, by several different people that my body looks like an upside down triangle or I look like I'm wearing shoulder pads, blah, blah...I get it, I have broad shoulders. For my quaint size I'd like to think that I have very good arm and shoulder strength. There are times when my husband and I tease each other; I have all the upper body strength, while he has all the lower body strength.

When I heard that today's workout focused on shoulders and arms, I was excited because that small part of me said, "Yay! I won't have to work as hard, I can work on stretching instead." I was wrong, so very wrong. In order to explain, let me back track a little and inform you how I was exposed to an embarrassing reality on Saturday.

Saturday, Princess had to go to the clinic to get a routine check-up. While we were there, we decided to get our flu shots out of the way. This is when the doctor asked if she had been tested for TB or anemia, of which I was sure she was tested for anemia when she was an infant...I remember the screaming. (Oh, the days when kids would scream while getting shots, how they will be missed.)

The doctor begins explaining the procedures to me and Princess. Princess may have missed the bit about the flu shot, but I didn't! Doctor says, "Yeah, I got my shot on Monday (doctor rubs her shoulder) and today it's just starting to feel bet....so how are you doing in school?" At the time, I was only thinking about how if Princess had heard that, she may lose her excitement.

Off we went to the lab, where Princess skipped over to the chair, sat down and began telling the technician about how she liked shots, just like her daddy. He then had the sad job of telling her she wasn't getting a shot just yet, he was going to prick her finger and squeeze out drops of blood. If this had been Little Dude, he would have said, "Cool, I'm out of here!' Princess, on the other hand, "Can I watch?" The poor technician was ready for a fight, so he sat in stunned silence for a second before he explained what he was doing while he did the test. Now the ever-important bandage is applied and she jumps up happy. The technician tells her that she is probably the bravest 6 year-old he has ever dealt with.

Now we leave the lab and head back towards the clinic for the TB test and flu shots. We try our best to manage Princess' huge ego as we manage the narrow hallways. Once in the vaccination room she climbs up on the exam table and begins explaining to the nurse that she is brave and likes shots. The nurse looks at me and asks if I needed to go first. With Little Dude I have to go first in order to show him that it really isn't that bad, I figure Princess can have her glory. I regret this decision a lot over the next couple of days.

The nurse begins explaining the TB test and Princess just watches her as she completes the procedure. The nurse explains that the flu shot will hurt when she injects her and it will hurt a few days later. At this point, I don't think Princess is listening, she almost has this happy phased out look on her face. She gets the shot, the bandage and her sticker before jumping off the exam table in excitement. It's sick, really. While she is getting the shot, I start thinking to myself, I probably should have gone first just so I don't look like a pansy. Too late.

It's my turn to get a shot, yay. Have I failed to mention that I hate shots? I understand the importance and the physical aspects of getting an injection. They aren't supposed to feel good...well to normal people, they aren't. When giving blood or getting vaccines I have to look away. Evidently, there is always a look that comes across my face because I am always asked, "Are you going to be okay?" I grit my teeth and reply that I'll be fine. The nurse has me wiggle my fingers while she injects me, this is new and very painful. I suppose it is to make the muscle in my upper arm relax, but it freaking hurts!

Everything is done and over, I get no stickers or bandage (I'm not much of a bleeder, either) and my arm hurts like someone repeatedly hit me in the exact same spot. I even look for bruising, it hurts so bad. My arm feels as though it may actually fall off at the shoulder! Princess is skipping down the hall, singing, "I got a shot, I got a shot."

This is when it hits me. My 6 year-old daughter just kicked my butt in something!

The flu shot did wear her down though, so I was glad that it did effect in her in some way. I was starting to think she was invincible. Her elementary school has a running club where kids can come before classes and run for 20 minutes. Every mile (10 laps) they get a plastic foot and the prizes get bigger the more miles they run during the school year.

On Monday, instead of her normal 14 laps in run club, she only ran 12...and she was really sweaty. I told her to walk after her 8th lap, but she just kept on chugging. Yes, I did run with her for 4 laps until I was needed to help in counting laps for the kids.

Now it is Tuesday and my arm feels as though it will fall off again. If it hadn't been "picture day" and my stern warning of not getting dirty, Princess would probably be running her own obstacle courses at recess. It's amazing to see your children do what they do, there is so much pride! It's also sad when you are forced to realize you just aren't as young and invincible as you once thought you were.

Princess donates her hair

Before shot

Today, Princess cut her hair in order to donate it to Locks of Love. Unfortunately, we were 1/2 inch short for them, so Pantene's Beautiful Lengths will gladly accept her golden locks.

Either way, Princess was so happy to cut her hair off and get a little spa treatment out of the deal. Shampoo, styling, nail polish, balloon and costume ring...I'd say she was pretty happy about getting her hair chopped off.

THE Cut

There is absolutely no regrets or even thoughts about her hair. She simply grew her hair out for another person who needs it, she is truly humble and honorable. We are beyond proud of this little girl!

One proud little girl!

Comfort Zones

I have a bubble around me, it is my comfort zone, my blankie or my snuggy, if you will. I say it's literal, but my husband has convinced himself that it's figurative. For some reason I appreciate space. Maybe it is because I am an only child, so I wasn't exposed to privacy or space issues. I'm not one of those "huggy" people either, even if I know you.

Different people have different comfort zones or levels. My mother-in-law can have complete conversations with strangers on a daily basis, she doesn't seem to have a comfort zone, she's just nice to everyone. We have told her several times that she is too nice for California! My husband is very sociable and people tend to love him; however, he doesn't like to be in big crowds.

I am not very sociable therefore in this texting/emailing world, I am completely comfortable. We are symbiotic. The one thing that I absolutely hate is ordering food. It doesn't matter if it is on the phone or in person, I just have no love for it at all.

For as long as I can remember, my husband and I have argued over whose turn it was to call the pizza delivery or Chinese take-out place. Fortunately for me, my husband is a wonderful enabler and allows me to convince him to order whatever is needed. This method worked for years until the wonderful invention of online ordering. Both of us feel better because I am now able to contribute something when ordering food.

When Military Dad wants to order something and he decides he is going to force me to act out this process, I will make sure that our choices are companies that have online ordering. Once again, he is an enabler and allows me to get away with this. This went on for months, until one day he decided to stop enabling me.

It all started with a trip to the beach. On the way there we noticed a Sonic and we decided that it was Cherry Limeades and Tots on the way home. MD starts teasing me relentlessly about not being able to order; even going so far as to comment on my anti-social habits.

Despite his best efforts, we had a wonderful time at the beach. Upon arriving at Sonic, MD decided from out of nowhere that I should order. I tell myself, "It's going to be okay, you are ordering 4 Diet Cherry Limeades and 4 Tots, how hard can it be?"

Yep! This is where that connection from my brain to mouth malfunctions at its finest. Please read Military Dad's post about the conversation, because honestly it's so horrific, I can't revisit it or I will need more therapy. What should have taken maybe a minute to order, took about 4 minutes and a Sonic employee almost in tears. It was that bad.

Evidently, I should have gone through this horrifying experience years ago, because now MD doesn't even bring up who is going to order anymore. If he wants food that doesn't have online ordering, he makes the call. I think he also feels at this point that he isn't enabling me anymore, he is saving me and several food employees from therapy. It's a win-win for both of us.

Pride doesn't even begin to describe how I feel...

I have mentioned several times about how my daughter seems to be years ahead of herself in maturity and intelligence. It's absolutely amazing the innocence and depth that children possess.

Years ago I decided that I wanted to donate my hair to Locks of Love. Unfortunately, I have issues with taking out stress on my hair, therefore I color it or cut it regularly. Due to the process involved in creating hair pieces they need long, healthy, un-colored hair. Since college, my hair hasn't been longer then shoulder length or anywhere near its natural color.

I knew after doing this research, that I would never be able to donate my hair. My daughter being ever so observant asked me why I was so upset. I tried my best to explain to a then 4 year old about the reasons for Locks of Love. It was difficult, depressing and utterly uncomfortable to explain how not everyone is blessed with health.

Princess, being the empathetic person she is, understood and immediately stated that she wanted to give her hair to people who couldn't grow their own. What had left me depressed just minutes ago, had me amazed and proud of such a huge personality trapped in a little girl's body.

So for the next two years we have been taking care of her gorgeous blonde hair in order to whack it off and give it away. Every few months she had me measure it to see how close she was. Not once during this entire period, did she every change her mind. Our goal was to have it long enough, she could easily cut off the minimum requirement (10 inches) and still have neck or shoulder length hair. She is about one inch from neck-length haircut.

After helping her wash her hair this evening, I came to the realization that her type of hair might not be able to make it that last inch. For every person, no matter the hair type, there is this magic length at which hair stops being healthy. Her hair appears to be thick, however it is actually pretty fine, so I'm amazed it made to the length it has. After leaving conditioner in it, spraying with detangler and working out clumps of tangles, I had to finally come to terms that this was probably her magic length...just one inch shy of our goal. I was heartbroken for her.

In one last attempt to save our goal, I thought maybe it was just split-ends wreaking havoc, because then we could get a trim and let it grow some more. However, after relentless searching, I couldn't find a single split end.

I got out the ruler and checked to see if maybe I was wrong and we actually had hit our target. The number 9 kept staring back at me, no matter what chunk of hair I measured.
Princess:  "How much more Mommy?"
Me:  "Still one more inch, unless you want to cut it higher."
Princess:  "OK"
Me:  "OK, what? You want to cut it higher?"
Princess:  "Sure."

I measure up to 10 inches, the magic number. It would be about the middle of her ear in length. I show her with my finger the magic length and then try my best to show her what her hair would like that short.

Princess:  "OK, when can I cut it?"
Me:  "Um, go show your father."

MD:  "That's pretty short, are you sure you want to cut it now? If so, we can make an appointment this week and we can donate it."
Princess:  without hesitation..."I want to give my hair to someone who needs it."
MD:  "Sounds good, why don't you take a day or two and think about it, and if that's what you want to do, Mommy will make you an appointment."

Now Princess is off making a pretty big decision for a 6 year old. I'm in shock, I think. My daughter is such a better person than I am, and I'm worried that she may regret cutting it so short. However, I already know that as soon as it is cut, she will start asking how much longer until we can cut it again. Princess has mentioned before how she wants to keep donating her hair to Locks of Love. At 6, she already understands that it's just hair and it doesn't define her in any way. So, how do I come to terms with it?

How do I NOT mess my kids up?

As I dropped Princess off at school this morning I had time to reflect on a few things. First, she was completely comfortable saying good-bye and running off to play. Normally she has me wait until it's time to line up for class, then she's okay with me leaving.

I watched her walk around and decide where she wanted to play. Like her mother, she went straight for the monkey bars, with a dress on. (I'm patting myself on the back for making her wear bike shorts underneath). Then she got bored and went to the swings. Most kids were pumping their legs trying to be the highest, but she just moved her legs enough to create movement. Then she looked around and watched other kids.

She is extremely observant for someone her age, she rarely misses a thing. When MD and I have to speak about the covert operations Santa or the Tooth Fairy undertake, we have to wait until she is asleep, then close the doors and turn the TV on. She does not miss a thing.

This is what led me to my second thought. She is already developing some serious obsessive compulsive tendencies. When my alarm goes off on my phone, she has already had her backpack on and ready to go for about 15 minutes. If I even look like I'm trying to hurry, she panics and thinks we are going to be late. Yes, I mean panic, there are times when I think she is about to let loose some tears because we may be on time, instead of early.

I blame this issue on myself and MD's inability to be late for anything. Hell, we can barely be on time. Normally we are about 10 to 15 minutes early for anything/everything. I'm not sure where or when we got this bad, but there are times when we actually sit and wait for 10 minutes before we allow ourselves to leave. I'm sure the tension in the house is palpable and Princess, not missing a thing, sees that being late is not an option.

My last thought before slipping into my funk, is she never turned to look for me on the playground. Once she said her good-byes, in her mind, I was already walking home. Part of me is proud that she is comfortable and independent enough at school. The other part of me wanted her to know that I was still there, if she needed anything. After thinking about it for some time, I realize that last part is more about me than her. I want her to be independent, I need her to be strong.


Now here I sit, trying to think of ways to embrace her as an independent person, prevent her from having OCDs, and make sure through my own actions that I don't really screw her up for her future.

Being a parent is a daily art form of dealing with conflicting issues. How do you get her to behave and be well-mannered, but not be too strict? How do you stress the importance of organization and cleanliness, but allow her to go play in the mud? How do you get her to be nice and share things, but know that sometimes her and Little Dude are going to have throw some punches (figuratively, I hope)? How do you get her to be a good leader and example, but not be too easy on her little brother?

I have a feeling that this starts with who you are as a person. You honestly cannot tell your child, "Do as I say, not as I do" and expect them to actually listen or even do it. Being a good person and taking responsibility for your own actions is probably the most important things a parent can do. In the past few years MD and I have been very good at changing the people we are for the better, so now what is the second step?

I'm not sure what the next step is, however I think for our little family, working on the time thing should probably be a priority.

A glimpse of insanity...

Every morning at 6:08 AM a neighbor's sprinklers go off. Normally this wouldn't concern me. However, it wakes me up from my last sacred minutes before the school routine starts. At 6:08 AM, I still have 22 minutes before the actual alarm goes off, or Little Dude comes into our bedroom, already dressed.

What concerns me is the timing of the sprinklers going off. 6:08? I have already ruled out our clocks being early or late, as they are set with Sprint. (Whether this is an accurate time or not is moot, I just assume that everyone else sets their clocks to some cellular device nowadays.)

I now lie awake thinking is their clock 3 minutes slow? 2 minutes fast? Or, even worse, did they actually program their sprinklers to go off at 6:08 AM? If it is the last option, then I am in awe of their testicular fortitude to plainly mess with people.

I really hope it is the last option, because as soon as we get our sprinklers ripped out and a drought resistant garden built, I plan on setting my sprinklers to go off at some random time also, just to mess with people. (For those of you wondering, we do have a small patch of grass in the backyard that we will keep for the kiddos - this is where I will set off my sprinklers at 6:52 AM.)



***Upon reading this out loud to my husband, his response was, "You aren't right. It's the right title for it, though."

Welcome to a small slice of my "reality." (Insert evil laugh here)

Food Memories

As I sat down with the kiddos to eat our leftover Chinese food for lunch, memories started flashing though my mind. At this point they were mostly memories of previous experiences with Asian food, however it got me thinking about why did these memories just a pop in for a quick visit?

I've heard that your sense of smell is the strongest sense when it comes to memories. I understand that probably many, many moons ago we needed to smell a predator, or something rotten, then remember, "that smell meant something bad for me, run away!" (Yes, I'm a Monty Python fan).

However, this time it was more a visual experience that got me remembering the past. Since I'm a vegetarian, I have had to replace my beloved Orange Chicken with Orange Tofu, either way it's still spicy because of those red little peppers. For those of you unfamiliar with those dry, red peppers of intense pain and suffering, (if you eat one) they are szechuan peppers. In my opinion, they make a jalapeno pepper seem more of the bell variety.

The act of fishing them out of my meal, reminded me of a dinner with the hubby. MD and I had one of those rare date nights you get after having children, so we decided to go to our favorite little Thai restaurant in Monterey, CA. (Pacific Thai if anyone is around or living there - wonderful restaurant). I can't even remember what my husband ordered, I just remember looking over at him at some point because the conversation stopped abruptly. His face was red and he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Immediately I thought he was choking and started to freak out. Fortunately, before I could create a scene, he dug out (or hacked up) a slightly chewed version of those nasty little red death peppers. I realize at this point,  I probably should have asked him if he was okay or needed water, you know, any of those caring things. I, on the other hand, started laughing and saying, "You aren't supposed to actually eat those!"

MD learned a valuable lesson and I had a wonderful date story to share with the world!

My other memories came after lunch was finished and we managed to find the fortune cookies we hadn't eaten the previous night.

I remember eating at a Chinese restaurant with my parents when I was young, maybe more people were there, I'm not sure. After dinner when that lovely waiter brings the fortune cookies around, it is normally a time of excitement and joy.

This time, it was a little different. We each grabbed our designated cookie and opened them to see our futures or words of wisdom.

My dad read his, we chuckled. I read mine, we chuckled. My mom said she didn't get one. Wuh?

Originally we may have thought it was embarrassing so she didn't want to share, but after further investigation she really didn't get that piece of paper in her cookie. The waiter noticing our distress, came over with another cookie. We laughed about it and awaited patiently to see her new fortune.

The second cookie was empty.

I hate statistics with a passion, however I'm pretty sure the odds of this are astounding. This awful no-fortune-in the-cookie was repeated yet a third time with no luck. At this point, the waiter turns to my mom with a straight face and says, "I guess you have no future" then he walks away. My mom being my mom, shrugs it off and decides to be excited about the fact she got three cookies.

I believe this was also the same restaurant where during dinner, my mom asked for a fork - we hadn't become the chopsticks ninjas that we are today. The waiter explained that "the fork" was being used at a different table right now. Wow!

Maybe somewhere in the deep recesses of my scary mind, the sight or smell of lunch just triggered those thoughts. Either way, we had a good lunch and my bloggers and the kids got to experience some cool memories brought on by food.

My husband seems to doubt me...

Evidently, my eagerness to become home improvement diva of our house is scaring my husband. I imagined a warm reception, showered with support and praise. I was not aware that bringing home do-it-yourself books from the library would invoke some primal fear my husband has for home repair.

Last week I brought home sprinkler repair and gardening books. Being residents of California, grass....well, it sucks. I grew up in the Midwest where they have this thing called "free water that comes from the sky," also known as rain. California has "expensive water that comes from the pipes." I was trying to lay out a lovely rock and succulent garden where we could tear up the grass and sprinklers in order to save money. Military Dad keeps asking about a free estimate from some sprinkler company. Och! (Yes, I've seen Brave too!)

I just figure that I will start my sprinkler project when he is safely a thousand miles away in Department Head school. Therefore, I decided to move on to my next project: ceiling fans.

Ceiling fans are relatively easy to install....when you have existing lights. We do not. For some reason, when people build houses now, they have those stupid wall outlets that control the lighting. Yay, you saved some money not installing ceiling fixtures, but for the rest of us who have to furnish our homes with floor lamps....you suck!

I bring home two books, pictured over yonder. I bring them out of our library book bag (California thing - plastic kills people, reuse bags! Save a tree and what-not!) I proudly display them on our kitchen table. MD says, "Fine! I get the point! I'll make the appointment to update our wills!"

Um???

Cool on the updating our wills part, but I'm starting to feel there is a lack of confidence in my confidence. Now the thoughts going through my head are: if MD hires an electrician, would it be cheaper to fly my father out so I can install them myself? It would be a valuable learning experience that I may remember in the future. Plus Boppa could always entertain the kiddos while MD takes me to the hospital.

No, not for electrocuting myself. (That only happens when Boppa tells me to cut through wallpaper in order to cut out a wall outlet.) I'd go to the hospital for falling off the ladder and through the drywall....kind of like Boppa did....

Little Dude Conversation

Little Dude walks down the stairs and stops to look at a wedding photo of me and MD.

Me:  What are looking at?
Little Dude:  A picture.
Me:  Who is that a picture of?
Little Dude:  Mommy and Daddy?
Me:  Very good!

He stands there looking at this picture.
Little Dude:  You look different!
Me:  How do I look different?
Little Dude:  Mommy, you are wearing a dress! (Says this with absolute surprise in his voice.)

At this point, you may realize I wear jeans and t-shirts a bit. Guess I may have to break out the skirts and dresses every once in awhile. One thing I don't want to hear from my kids: "Wow! Mommy, you clean up nice!"

Behold the power of ....Cheetos!?

Today I discovered my husband's kryptonite. Amazingly enough, it is Cheetos. Yes, Cheetos. What I believe to be a wonderfully crunchy, "cheesy" bag of goodness, MD sees a reason to hoark.

I don't get to eat them as often as I used too, due to turning 30-something....the point at which your body stops its metabolism completely. Therefore, I enjoy living vicariously through Princess and Little Dude.

Princess and Little Dude, not only love the flavor of that "cheesy" substance and that crunch you get with the perfect bag, they love the orange dust that adheres to their fingers like glue. Oh, to be a kid again...or at least a point in which my metabolism didn't laugh outright when I glance at a bag of chips.

Evidently, the joy the kids get out of a bag of Cheetos, is not appreciated by MD. The smell alone will make him turn a strange shade of green. I jokingly, ate a Cheetos and asked him for a kiss...I thought he actually may have held back some vomit when I stuck out my tongue full of "cheesy" goodness. Had I not found this funny, I think I may have felt a little insulted.

On our way home from lunch, he was in charge of trying to keep the kids awake in the car (for nap time at home). Little Dude or Princess somehow touched his arm with a finger coated with orange goo. My husband, also a grown man of 30-something, shrieked and cried out, "Goo! Don't touch me!" After that, it became a game of who could gross daddy out best. I have to admit, even though I was driving, I was also enjoying the excitement.

I was not aware that a simple snack food could reduce a man to a slightly green-looking, whimpering ball (in a Prius). It has taken 10 years, but I now have an item more powerful than I can imagine at my fingertips! Bwah-ha-ha! (My interpretation of an evil laugh.)

Just thinking of the ways I can use this to my advantage, the possibilities are astounding!

Too bad, I don't have any Cheetos in the house...

"Let it Begin! Let it Begin!"

If you have ever watched "Bolt" as much as our family has, you are very familiar with the guinea pig saying, "Let it begin! Let it begin!" This saying has become somewhat of a mantra in our house when we are about to do something crazy.

If you read my recent post, you know that my husband and I are about to embark on the wonderful fixer-uppers that come with owning your own home. This is also why my posts have been few and far between. I think it's wonderful and exciting. MD is still a bit hesitant.

We are planning on putting in drought resistant gardens in both the front and backyards and tearing out all the carpet to install wood flooring. I have meticulously planned out our budget, even over-estimated in order to plan on those things that just pop up here and there during home repair. I did research for best prices on materials and such. We even planned out what areas we were going to start on and when.

The master bathroom tile was to be professionally installed first. The grout in the current area is coming up in chunks, not cool. However, we are waiting on some special order part, then they should have it installed the week after.

After the bathroom is tiled we were going to install wood flooring in the bedrooms upstairs. I love carpet, I think it's great for kids and pets, and it also cuts down on noise and temperature issues. I also hate carpet because kids spill stuff, pets have accidents and with asthmatics in the house, it's an entirely different problem for them.

The downstairs carpet was third on the list because having wood flooring would increase the resale value in the long run. Not to mention the whole pets and kids spilling stuff thing.

Final in our list of major home improvement ideas was ripping out a majority of the front yard grass and planting a drought resistant garden...mostly rock and a few succulents. The backyard is mostly drought resistant already, however there is a large abundance of red mulch and ants all over the place.


I'm not sure where it started to go wrong, but our timeline went to hell in one quick swoop. I'm pretty sure it has to do with living in California. We decided to get termite protection, since California has wonderful weather and breeds termites rather well. I'm going to have to give Orkin a shout-out here, because they were AWESOME! Great customer service before and after we bought their plan. They explained there are two main types of termites: house and subterranean. Evidently house termites aren't all that bad compared to the subterranean ones. They like to set up shop and eat for years. Subterranean like to send in millions and a time to annihilate anything in their path.

Wonderful age where they actually LIKE helping!

You say, "this is great, what the heck does it have to do with anything?" It has to do with the 400 pounds of red mulch around our house attracting these stupid bugs. I thought I was overreacting until we started digging it up. We found termite eaten wood and lots of it. We also found that whoever laid the sprinkler system was quite possibly high or charged by the foot of pipe. We also found that since there are so many trees in our yard, several of our sprinkler lines leak.

Now the last item on our list got moved up in order to deal with the water bill and bug issues. In order to understand what needs to be worked on, I went to the library for some research on sprinkler systems and found that drip irrigation will work great. MD is hesitant about working with the actual pipes. How do I know this? Everyday now he has mentioned this wonderful company that does free estimates on sprinkler systems.

 Next we had to move up our downstairs flooring before the upstairs flooring. This is due to the fact that I decided to clean our carpets with our home carpet shampoo machine. Little did I know I would be bringing up the nastiest stuff known to man. Me being me, the carpet is now torn up and outside in the trash.

Before nastiness

After removing nastiness...& MD's butt!

After removing the carpet, we need to seal up the holes in the concrete and obviously let the flooring "settle" in to its new home for a few days. I'm hoping next weekend we will have the beginnings of a beautiful new wood floor!

I'm being unleashed....

There a few things that get me so excited I actually shake with glee. One of those things is tackling home improvement projects.

If my dad is reading this, he is shaking his head in disbelief. When I was younger he had to drag me kicking-and-screaming into a home improvement project. I guess I did not appreciate the knowledge I was gaining, I just felt that I was free labor.

I also understood that anytime he needed anything at a home improvement store, I had to go a long. The fact that I was a teenage girl in a store teaming with teenage boys looking to "help" someone, did not go unnoticed by my dad. If he needed to ask a question or needed something loaded into the truck, he would disappear around the corner. Seconds later, a young, helpful man would come running around the corner to assist me in my woes of home improvement. Later with the questions answered or materials loaded into the truck, we would drive back to my manual labor, no fun on the weekend, bonding experience with my dad.

I learned how to install ceiling fans, sprinkler systems, decks, wood flooring, tile and several other things that I can't think off of the top of my head. Some of you are thinking, "Wow! What an opportunity to learn things from your dad, I never had that chance." Yes, you would be right, I had a wonderful opportunity, however I was a teenager and did not understand that at the time. I was also an only child, so it didn't matter that I was his daughter or whether I was capable or not, I was simply there when tasks were needed.

With all this being said, now that I own my own home, I look forward to everything on our to-do list with so much excitement that I think it scares my husband. Maybe, even terrifies him.

Before we owned our own home, we fought over who got to put things together from places like IKEA. We would even go through the effort to make sure something was delivered when the other person wasn't home. Sad, I know.

Lately, with home ownership I have slowly been carving away at my husband's do-it-yourself insecurities. He helped install a new toilet for the kid's bathroom with hesitation, however, by the end he started looking around the house for new stuff to do. It was a proud moment in my life!

Moving ahead, we had Home Depot measure our entire house for flooring installation. I never planned on Home Depot doing all the installation, however I later realized this was exactly what MD had in mind. His do-it-yourself fears came flooding back due to his inexperience. I, on the other hand, had this wealth of knowledge, the right attitude and tons of YouTube videos at my fingertips...I was READY!

I started looking over Home Depot's estimates and doing a cost analysis of materials and labor that we could save if we did it ourselves.  MD just wasn't buying this. After about a couple of weeks of begging and pleading, he changed his mind for some reason. I'm not sure if it was the constant ideas being thrown at him, the YouTube videos I made him watch ("see honey we can really do this, that guy with a mullet did it!"), or the professional massage package I told him he could have after we completed the project (no, I didn't really, but it makes the story better), but he hesitantly agreed to unleash me.

Now that I have been unleashed I kind of feel like that dog who is made to sit and watch their toy be thrown far away. They just sit their shaking and drooling, until they are told to go get it. I've been unleashed but I'm still waiting to go get my toys at the store and start. Maybe another week....

My daughter, the philosopher

As a parent, most would say that they have a very smart child.  There are just things that your own child is great at, when compared to other children. It is what makes us unique. If we were all good at the same thing, the world would not be the weird and wonderful place it is. That being said, my daughter is very smart, sometimes she even surprises me.

There are times when your child asks you questions and you just don't want to take the time to answer life's mysteries. Many parents even have answers at the ready to explain certain things like relationships, politics, religion, etc. I am not one of those parents, unless the answer is: "Not now, please go do something else."

Maybe other kids ask these questions too, or maybe because she asks the strangest adult-like questions, I have more difficulty answering them. I believe I should always be honest with my kids and allow them to form their own beliefs and opinions...as long as they don't hurt people or things in the process. It's working so far, but honestly, they are only 6 and 3 years old.

Princess began about an hour dialogue with me the other day, about whether God was a person or not. I told her that since I'd never met God, I wasn't sure. Evidently, my answer, or the fact that I was so honest about not knowing, threw her into some philosophical high gear and the questions began spewing forth.

So how does a Buddhist answer questions about God to a 6 year old?

Before anyone is surprised with me for being Buddhist or whether my answers are "correct" or not, please allow me to restate: I believe I should always be honest with my kids and allow them to form their own beliefs and opinions. This means, I won't give her standardized answers that really don't answer her curiosity. It also means, that if she decides to choose a different path than me, this is fine as long as she understands why she chose her path.

It was very strange to be able to ask her questions about her beliefs and have her ask me the same. It was definitely not  how I expected this deep conversation to go. I also felt that my daughter was incredibly wise for her 6 years of age. There were times during the conversation when I felt she had a better grasp on what religion should be, than I did. It was absolutely amazing.

It was rather hard during some points to not say something like, "Well, I believe in Buddhism, so this is what you should believe too." I feel as though I have passed some secret parent test out there and should win a prize!



I've spent several days trying to determine if I want to post this or not. I try to keep my blog light and funny and I never, ever discuss religion or politics with anyone but my husband or my parents, just because I know that beliefs are very powerful things. However, this was a time in my life, that I was very proud of my daughter's grasp on things and also, one of those moments in my life, I will never forget.

Once upon a time...

As I mentioned before, MD likes to create his own stories to share with the kids. Last night we were blessed with another session of story time with Military Dad.

Goldilocks meets Snow White


So Goldilocks is running from the Three Bears (you know the house she broke into, stole food and broke all their furniture). Since she's running and looking behind her for the bears, she runs right smack into a tree. Grumpy was near and asked why she happened to run into a tree.


"I am running from bears!" Goldilocks replies.
"Yeah, we got bear problems. Why don't you come home with me and my brothers?" Grumpy replies.


Goldilocks liked to cook, however she wasn't very good at it. Evidently her favorite dish was acorn paste.


Goldilocks starts dating Bashful.This was really awkward for the other dwarves, since they all shared a room. Goldilocks decided she was only going to cook and clean for Bashful. The other dwarves got upset. Especially since Bashful was like Kuthrapali. (Yes, that's a Big Bang Theory reference, for the children).


One morning as they walked off to the mines, the other six dwarves started plotting with their pick axes and how to get rid of Bashful. While plotting, they run into Snow White running from the Wicked Witch of the West, or something. The dwarves decide to take Snow White home in case she wouldn't get along with Goldilocks.


Snow White loves to cook and clean for ALL the dwarves. 
MD also chooses this point to mention that Snow White gives the dwarves a little something, something on the side. (Um...eew! Fortunately the kiddos don't even ask about what that means. I'm hoping through our whacked parenting skills, that they don't already know what it means!)


The dwarves start talking about how Snow White is prettier than Goldilocks. Goldilocks gets upset and tries to fight Snow White. Snow White evidently knows how to fight and gives Goldilocks a beat down. (Um...why can't she just beat up the witch, then?!) Goldilocks gets scared and runs away. 


Evidently, Goldilocks has poor GPS skills, because she runs right back to the Bear's cabin, where they eat her. Snow White and the dwarves live happily ever after.




If you don't think that is messed up, you should read Military Dad's post on getting the Beast (Beauty & the Beast) into a relationship via a dating service. The entertainment value alone in him is worth the world to the kids and me.

"Even whales have menstrual cycles"

Today, we needed to relax, have fun and get out of the house all at the same time. This usually means a trip to the beach, slathering on the SPF 90, for a few hours of sand-in-every-crevice fun.

While the kids were enjoying digging a hole, MD and I were watching the waves break. I noticed that there was a lime green algae drift and then some red colored water when certain waves broke near the beach.

I mentioned the red colored water to MD because we point out these random things to each other. (After today's conversation, I'm beginning to wonder why.) He looks right at me and says, "Well, even whales have menstrual cycles."


Many hours later and I'm still not sure what to do with this statement. I even Googled "whale menstrual cycles". It seems scientists are still debating this subject. Some believe that killer whales may menstruate, but other whales don't seem too. It basically comes down to the fact that whales are in the water all the time and marine biologists seem to have better things to study than whether a whale needs a tampon or not. (Which obviously wouldn't work in the water, yes, I realize this!)

I just needed to share MD's awful statement, because of the hours of torture spent wondering and researching whales menstrual cycles. I can't even tell him he is wrong (or right) for that matter, because they just don't know!


For those of the curious nature, he went out and body surfed for awhile. He came back and informed me that it was actually red algae.

Yay! Home ownership!

I may have mentioned that we bought our first home in June. I don't want to downplay the experience to anyone who isn't in the military, because your first house is huge, it's a big deal, celebrate!

If you are in the military and somehow you manage to be stationed somewhere where owning a home makes sense, that's just AWESOME! We get to celebrate twice! First we bought a home, YIPPEE! Second, holy crap, we will be stationed in one area for more than two years, HOORAY!

Since it is the middle of July now, we've done some small house improvement projects such as painting and yard work. Now it's time to move onto the bigger things.

I'm excited, my husband is terrified.

I grew up, an only child, with a father who worked construction, until he was forced to choose a different (safer) career. (That's another post). I grew up learning certain electrical, plumbing and general construction projects that most home improvement stores try to teach people everyday. The only project that I hated and will never, ever attempt again is wallpapering. Thankfully that has gone out of style...hopefully forever.

MD and I decided that our first project probably needs to be installing a smaller toilet in the kid's bathroom. Little Dude, being...little, has some issues with the current toilet. Heck, I'm only 5'3" and I have issues with my feet touching! Evidently these are the new ADA compliant toilets, which are great for elderly and obviously handicapped persons, however for us short people, they suck...a lot.

For a couple of weeks, we have been researching toilets and browsing our local home improvement stores. After watching a few YouTube and DIY videos on installing toilets, I felt this was a project we could actually handle. MD even watched the video with me and commented that it seemed easy enough. That was all I needed, so I started researching toilets to see what was the most economical, and where to buy it.

I found one and informed him that it was indeed economical and we could pick it up the next day. MD gave me a look, that said "Uh-oh, if I seem too interested, we'll be doing this project tomorrow." I saw his weakness and said, "Which means we can install it tomorrow!" At this point, I am smiling from ear-to-ear. His first look has now turned from unsure to horrified. He then changes the subject to flooring, which is also another future project on our list. Off I go, researching flooring.

That was last night. Now I'm awake and ready to go! (In my head, is my little person rubbing their fingers together-think Mr. Burns of the Simpson's fame). I may have to drag him kicking and screaming, but after I break his home improvement fears, I think he'll be okay.

I may even post before and after photos...maybe not, it is a toilet after all! Wish us luck!