I've been meaning to write about my valentines day experience this year, but it's taken me a while to process it all. Here's the best I can do.
We had a "vacation". Yes, it is once again soccer season. This tournament was in St. George/Mesquite, and I was feeling saucy so I decided to pack up my girls (have you ever packed for a baby? You basically have to take everything. I finally stopped myself at the 6th recieving blanket and after packing every burpcloth in the city of Spanish Fork. Oh, and water, who knows what kind of water they have in Mesquite, how can I feel good about feeding my baby Mesquite water?) and headed out to the fields with my husband in his cute little referee shorts. (Yes, they have to be that short, otherwise the socks would look ridiculous.)
So St. George was the same as usual, dry, forsaken looking palm trees, people who wish they were in California, yada yada. And Mesquite...not so much. Apparently if you don't golf there is no reason at all to go there. And to make things even more adventurous we got to stay in a hotel that was actually closed...and perhaps haunted. I decided it was haunted because then the disgusting, dirty decor was ambience, not a health code violation. It seems our hotel was used as an "overflow" hotel when the real hotels just didn't have room. It was kind of fun, in a life risking sort of way. The up side is that none of us got bit by mystery bugs, unlike our poor soccer-referee neighbor. He looked like a bedbug buffet.
BUT! It weasn't all bad. Here's the awesome part. All the soccer games got cancelled for the last two days so Charlie actually had to SPEND TIME WITH HIS FAMILY ON FAMILY VACATION. Sorry, it still gets me a little excited that he was finally able to experience that. Because he is an over achiever, and it was Valentines weekend, he even came up with a plan all on his own for family fun. Vegas was only an hour away, and he had 48 hours to spare, so instead of packing up and heading home like everyone else we headed south to Las Vegas for a romantic Valentine's get away...with two kids in tow...Brilliant!!
I don't want you all to get the wrong idea. I was impressed by his gumption. He even got us a big fancy suite at the Luxor so we had panoramic views from our in-room hot tub of the glittering city lights. We went walking around the various casino's trying to see everything we could (I had Eliza in her Moby wrap. You get some good comments when you take a 3 month old into a casino.)
Mia's favorite thing was the volcano in front of the Mirage. She made us stand and watch it at least 3 times before we were allowed to go back to our room and crash. My favorite thing, and possibly the most romantic thing Charlie has ever done for me, was that we got to spend an hour at Sephora. I frantically searched for my favorite eyelash curler (refer to my previous entry about my love affair with the Shu Umera eye lash curler). Alas, it was no where. And I gave up in a wave of self defeat and sat down next to one of those people pretending to be a statue outside on the side walk. Charlie quietly got up, and went in the store with Mia happily trailing after him (although he previously made it clear that he would rather eat lint than step inside a Sephora...boys are weird). Ten minutes later he came out holding a large bag and Mia came out smelling like she tried all the perfume samples. He handed the bag over and said "They don't carry them anymore, but I got the lady to give me all the ones they had left in the stock room". Man, I really love my husband.
Later that night, as we were in our romantic hot tub, watching the view of the strip through our slanted, pyramid-corner windows, I glanced over my two children, splashing around and giggling in the tub like it was their own private pool, to my adoring husband and was completely content and happy. Best Valentines day EVER.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
My new friend Kip
I had a birthday a few weeks ago, so no whining that I haven't written, I'm an old lady now with arthritic hands so this takes a lot of effort. I've been on a stupid diet and exercise kick since then. Charlie bought me Wii Fit Plus for my birthday and I got a membership to weight watchers....because apparently we both hate me. So I am old AND unpleasant. Gosh, are you sure you want to read this? I may insult you because I can't have a brownie, so all of my brownie hormones have converted into yelling-at-random people hormones.
Since the blessed anniversary of my birth, every morning I turn on my stupid Wii and pull out my stupid balance board and say good morning to Kip. He is my cartoon personal trainer. I could have picked the chick one, but I may have called her names that I don't think my kids should over hear at their tender age. So, Kip....yep. He's my buddy. And I hate him. Stupid Kip. I named him Kip because he looks really perky and slightly effeminate. I'll bet he was a cheerleader in his computer animated high school. He tries really hard to be in my good graces, but then he says something dumb like "your balance is a little off, do you find that you trip a lot when walking across a room?" Then I have to let out a string of not so nice words at him, but he doesn't care. He just goes on to the next torturous yoga pose as if he is impervious to my pain and insults. But if I stop, he yells at me. Yesterday in the middle of the palm pose I had to leap off my balance board because Eliza was screaming at me that she had flipped over on her stomach and got stuck (this happens a lot and I usually just sit there and laugh at her....because I need a brownie). Anyway, I jumped over to grab her and Kip shouted, as if I was across the room in the kitchen eating a brownie "HEY! THOSE MUSCLES AREN'T GOING TO TONE THEMSELVES YOU KNOW!" So I jumped back on the balance board, scared that he would make me do more lunges if I didn't shape up. I don't like being yelled at.
So, in my old decrepit age, I am being bullied by an inanimate object. I'm not sure what that says about me. I could just not turn on my Wii, but then he would get all mad at me for not working out. And he would probably yell at me. And then I would cry. So for now, I just deal with it, but some day he is going to push me too far. Then I'll do something, I don't know what. I may...put the disk in the freezer....that'll teach him. Oh yeah Kip, you have it coming. Just keep pushing me.
Since the blessed anniversary of my birth, every morning I turn on my stupid Wii and pull out my stupid balance board and say good morning to Kip. He is my cartoon personal trainer. I could have picked the chick one, but I may have called her names that I don't think my kids should over hear at their tender age. So, Kip....yep. He's my buddy. And I hate him. Stupid Kip. I named him Kip because he looks really perky and slightly effeminate. I'll bet he was a cheerleader in his computer animated high school. He tries really hard to be in my good graces, but then he says something dumb like "your balance is a little off, do you find that you trip a lot when walking across a room?" Then I have to let out a string of not so nice words at him, but he doesn't care. He just goes on to the next torturous yoga pose as if he is impervious to my pain and insults. But if I stop, he yells at me. Yesterday in the middle of the palm pose I had to leap off my balance board because Eliza was screaming at me that she had flipped over on her stomach and got stuck (this happens a lot and I usually just sit there and laugh at her....because I need a brownie). Anyway, I jumped over to grab her and Kip shouted, as if I was across the room in the kitchen eating a brownie "HEY! THOSE MUSCLES AREN'T GOING TO TONE THEMSELVES YOU KNOW!" So I jumped back on the balance board, scared that he would make me do more lunges if I didn't shape up. I don't like being yelled at.
So, in my old decrepit age, I am being bullied by an inanimate object. I'm not sure what that says about me. I could just not turn on my Wii, but then he would get all mad at me for not working out. And he would probably yell at me. And then I would cry. So for now, I just deal with it, but some day he is going to push me too far. Then I'll do something, I don't know what. I may...put the disk in the freezer....that'll teach him. Oh yeah Kip, you have it coming. Just keep pushing me.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Cute kids
Alright, you know how all kids are cute? Even the ones that are kind of funny looking are adorable in that E.T sort of way? Well, my kids are cute, dang it. But I will be the first to admit that they have had their less than glowing phases. Even little Eliza in her short three months has had a few less than stellar looks.
For example, she was born with male pattern baldness. Not completely new baby bald. Oh no, the only bald part was right in the front and center, the rest was almost 3 inches long, all around the perimeter.
You can see the hair in back sticking up like a mad scientist...tee hee. See, cute, even if it is funny.
I almost considered just buzzing the rest off and letting it all grow out together, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I just tried to camouflage it with a comb over. Yep, I had a little baby girl with a comb over. I also tried head bands, but they never stay put. Now the bald spot is just grown in enough that I have started to do things with her longer hair, like pigtails and stuff.
I actually mostly do this for my own amusement. I tried a mohawk, but that seriously didn't work since it only went to the middle of her head and the front just had that "new baby chick" fuzz. Maybe I'll try putting it in curlers and see what happens. (Can you tell I am not working right now? I need a hobby. Perhaps I should try knitting again to spare my kids from my boredom.)
I had a similar problem with Mia. When she was born, she had a mullet. A serious mullet. Plus, she had white hair, so she was like an albino baby with a mullet. It was pretty startling at first. But, I got used to it, and by the time she was about 18 months it all sort of worked itself out and now she has this gorgeous mane of golden shimmering hair that would make women in shampoo commercials seethe with jealousy. I don't have any pictures of her mullet on this particular computer, so she is going to be spared the embarrassment of those being published. But here is the lustrous current state of her hair.
So, when I see funny looking kids on the street or at the store, I just smile. Because I understand. It isn't their fault. Even if it isn't something like their hair, or being crossed eyed, it isn't their fault. It's probably because their mom dresses them funny or has no idea what to do with their hair. So, make fun of the parents if you must, it's all their doing, but spare the kids. They just do their best.
For example, she was born with male pattern baldness. Not completely new baby bald. Oh no, the only bald part was right in the front and center, the rest was almost 3 inches long, all around the perimeter.
You can see the hair in back sticking up like a mad scientist...tee hee. See, cute, even if it is funny.
I almost considered just buzzing the rest off and letting it all grow out together, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I just tried to camouflage it with a comb over. Yep, I had a little baby girl with a comb over. I also tried head bands, but they never stay put. Now the bald spot is just grown in enough that I have started to do things with her longer hair, like pigtails and stuff.
I actually mostly do this for my own amusement. I tried a mohawk, but that seriously didn't work since it only went to the middle of her head and the front just had that "new baby chick" fuzz. Maybe I'll try putting it in curlers and see what happens. (Can you tell I am not working right now? I need a hobby. Perhaps I should try knitting again to spare my kids from my boredom.)
I had a similar problem with Mia. When she was born, she had a mullet. A serious mullet. Plus, she had white hair, so she was like an albino baby with a mullet. It was pretty startling at first. But, I got used to it, and by the time she was about 18 months it all sort of worked itself out and now she has this gorgeous mane of golden shimmering hair that would make women in shampoo commercials seethe with jealousy. I don't have any pictures of her mullet on this particular computer, so she is going to be spared the embarrassment of those being published. But here is the lustrous current state of her hair.
So, when I see funny looking kids on the street or at the store, I just smile. Because I understand. It isn't their fault. Even if it isn't something like their hair, or being crossed eyed, it isn't their fault. It's probably because their mom dresses them funny or has no idea what to do with their hair. So, make fun of the parents if you must, it's all their doing, but spare the kids. They just do their best.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Love song for Macey's
I do have my share of happy places. I love my circle couch, sitting there with a remote (or novel, because I'm well rounded) and a diet coke is pretty much my version of bliss. Also, I have made it a habit to hang out at Macey's, my local grocery store. Yes, I know, grocery stores are not known for their relaxing amenities, but bear with me, it makes sense in a round about Amy-has-a-unique-albeit-skewed-outlook. (albeit is an interesting word....I'm going to have to use it more.)
Here is the play by play: First, you go in, you coral your 4 year old into a grocery cart so she can't run around and drive you crazy, and you put your infant in a front carrier because then she falls asleep and you can just pretend you have a horribly misshapen growth on your chest and ignore her. You take a deep relaxing breath and proceed into the store.
There, you are visually assaulted by "The Wall of Bargains", but in a good way. Chocolate covered pretzels, four for five dollars? Brilliant! Hunts spaghetti sauce for 1.09? Don't mind if I do. You leisurely work your way through the displays of consumable wonders and notice that you are working up a thirst. Just when it seems palpable, you wander smack into the Deli section and gaze longingly at all things deep fried. The deli wins a place in my heart because it houses a magical fountain drink dispenser. So, of course you mosey over and help yourself to a diet coke (you also may need to get a drink for the child in your grocery cart, depending on her noise level.) But, if drinks aren't her thing, never fear, because the Bakery is next, and the wonderful bakers in their baking aprons will give your child a cookie, because Bakers are like the Santa Claus's of pastry and cute kids get what they want. While you sip your beverage and your cart-caged child eats her cookie, you can stare in amazement at the cake being decorated by the woman in the glass-enclosed cake decorating area. (Mia can watch her for hours...I wonder if she feels like a zoo animal because I sometimes get the urge to throw treats at her for her performance. Maybe she would rather be thought of as a street busker and have me throw change into her white baking hat, I'll have to try that line of thinking next time.) Then you walk past the donuts and play the "What would I eat if I didn't have to lose 30 pounds" game.
And this is just the first corner of the store. At Macey's wonders await you around ever corner! Visit Tim the produce dude and get his advice on pineapple selecting. Sample ladies and candy bar displays lurk around every corner, like the proverbial trench coat wearing alley loiterer...except friendly and safe. Yep...this is one of my happy places and I am not ashamed any more. After all, don't people always say that happiness is where you find it (I never really seem to get platitudes right so feel free to correct that if you must.)
Here is the play by play: First, you go in, you coral your 4 year old into a grocery cart so she can't run around and drive you crazy, and you put your infant in a front carrier because then she falls asleep and you can just pretend you have a horribly misshapen growth on your chest and ignore her. You take a deep relaxing breath and proceed into the store.
There, you are visually assaulted by "The Wall of Bargains", but in a good way. Chocolate covered pretzels, four for five dollars? Brilliant! Hunts spaghetti sauce for 1.09? Don't mind if I do. You leisurely work your way through the displays of consumable wonders and notice that you are working up a thirst. Just when it seems palpable, you wander smack into the Deli section and gaze longingly at all things deep fried. The deli wins a place in my heart because it houses a magical fountain drink dispenser. So, of course you mosey over and help yourself to a diet coke (you also may need to get a drink for the child in your grocery cart, depending on her noise level.) But, if drinks aren't her thing, never fear, because the Bakery is next, and the wonderful bakers in their baking aprons will give your child a cookie, because Bakers are like the Santa Claus's of pastry and cute kids get what they want. While you sip your beverage and your cart-caged child eats her cookie, you can stare in amazement at the cake being decorated by the woman in the glass-enclosed cake decorating area. (Mia can watch her for hours...I wonder if she feels like a zoo animal because I sometimes get the urge to throw treats at her for her performance. Maybe she would rather be thought of as a street busker and have me throw change into her white baking hat, I'll have to try that line of thinking next time.) Then you walk past the donuts and play the "What would I eat if I didn't have to lose 30 pounds" game.
And this is just the first corner of the store. At Macey's wonders await you around ever corner! Visit Tim the produce dude and get his advice on pineapple selecting. Sample ladies and candy bar displays lurk around every corner, like the proverbial trench coat wearing alley loiterer...except friendly and safe. Yep...this is one of my happy places and I am not ashamed any more. After all, don't people always say that happiness is where you find it (I never really seem to get platitudes right so feel free to correct that if you must.)
You owe me big time Jake.
I have had to add a few things to my list of stuff that has made me lose my faith in humanity. Now, along with Oprah, Celine Dion, and techno remixes (why oh why must they go on for so long and be so repetitive??? Who enjoys that? It's like being pounded over the head with a drum machine.) Last night I had to add the Bachelor to my list.
I watched this juggernaut of a show in it's first season, when it was a novel idea, finding love on national television? How on earth will that pan out? But now we all know, it doesn't. No way, no how. So why is this show still on? How have they managed to find women who are willing to pretend that they think that finding the love of their lives equates dressing in skanky cocktail dresses and fighting over some rose happy guy who is willing to go on national and make out with 20 women to find the love of HIS life...honestly, there aren't this many stupid people in the world, are there? Oh and last night I made a drinking game out of it (I couldn't find the remote, hence my being subjected to this show). Every time some idiot woman talks about having a "connection" with Jake (the current Bachelor) you take a shot of the beverage of your choice. I drank protein water because I am trying to lay off the hard stuff (diet coke). Also, every time Jake cries because he has to send someone home. Has he not ever seen the show before? Why is this taking him by surprise? IF he is really there to find his true love he should be thrilled to whittle the pool of bimbos down to one so that he has found her. Come on. Quit your bawlin' pretty boy.
So, after last night I am banned from watching that show. Apparently Jake the pilot + protein water makes me a little bit violent. Charlie was afraid I would throw some projectile through his pretty new TV and removed all hard objects from my reach. And also, apparently the rage that show has created within me has made me tense my muscles in my back and today I cannot stand up straight or lift my 12 pound baby up without tears of wretched pain springing forth. Stupid Bachelor.
I watched this juggernaut of a show in it's first season, when it was a novel idea, finding love on national television? How on earth will that pan out? But now we all know, it doesn't. No way, no how. So why is this show still on? How have they managed to find women who are willing to pretend that they think that finding the love of their lives equates dressing in skanky cocktail dresses and fighting over some rose happy guy who is willing to go on national and make out with 20 women to find the love of HIS life...honestly, there aren't this many stupid people in the world, are there? Oh and last night I made a drinking game out of it (I couldn't find the remote, hence my being subjected to this show). Every time some idiot woman talks about having a "connection" with Jake (the current Bachelor) you take a shot of the beverage of your choice. I drank protein water because I am trying to lay off the hard stuff (diet coke). Also, every time Jake cries because he has to send someone home. Has he not ever seen the show before? Why is this taking him by surprise? IF he is really there to find his true love he should be thrilled to whittle the pool of bimbos down to one so that he has found her. Come on. Quit your bawlin' pretty boy.
So, after last night I am banned from watching that show. Apparently Jake the pilot + protein water makes me a little bit violent. Charlie was afraid I would throw some projectile through his pretty new TV and removed all hard objects from my reach. And also, apparently the rage that show has created within me has made me tense my muscles in my back and today I cannot stand up straight or lift my 12 pound baby up without tears of wretched pain springing forth. Stupid Bachelor.
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