I'm a screamer for ice cream

A crazy Saturday morning transitioned into a rare opportunity yesterday afternoon. Energized by his morning soccer game and end of the season party, Sage was outside playing with the neighborhood kids. Shepard was simply exhasted and napping in his crib. Alan and I found ourselves alone in a quiet house. We decided to partake in a little 'afternoon delight.' (Actually I finally relented after Alan bugged the crap out of me.)

Behind our locked bedroom door the soft music is playing, warm sunlight is streaming in the open window, the opaque window sheers are dancing in the crisp Fall breeze. Alan and I are lying on the bed--butt nekked--gettin' busy. All of a sudden, I heard a distant cacophony that made me gasp. "What's wrong?!" asked a surprised Alan. Then he heard it too, "Oh no! Ice Cream Man!" Alan: "Do you think Sage will hear it?" Me: "Of course he will. Throw two dollars down the stairs. Quick!"

No sooner had Alan grabbed two dollars and crept nekked to the top of the stairs, then we heard the front door bang open and Sage screamed, in classic Eddie Murphy fashion, "ICE CREAM!" Alan threw the two dollars down the stairs and ran back into our bedroom. He shouted down the stairs, "Sage, the money is on the stairs. Take it and go!" Sage frantically scrambled up the stairs, collected his two dollars and ran. I felt a twinge of parental guilt and told Alan "Tell him to be careful." Alan yelled at Sage's sprinting form "Sage, be careful! Don't get hit by the ice cream truck." Sage yelled behind him, "Ok Daddy, I won't!"

So that taken care of Alan tried to get me back in the mood and asked, "So, what do you want from your ice cream man?" Me, "I want you to bring that Nutty Butty right over here, baby." Alan, "I believe I will have the creamsicle today." Game On! But as the ice cream truck approached we found ourselves doing it to the circus-like tune of 'Pop goes the Weasel.' I found it very hard to concentrate when I felt like the carnival side show attraction. But hey, like I said, it was a rare opportunity so we pressed on and enjoyed every lick. :0

The Fives (Birthday Edition)

On October 1st I turned 35. These are the top five questions I have about getting older.

1. Why is it that everytime I go to the library in search of a particular book, the book is always on the lowest shelf? (Which causes me to have to bend, which causes all kinds of cracking and popping)

2. When exactly was it that I started referring to The Real World cast as "those kids" ?

3. Why is my body starting to reject alcohol? Shouldn't it be used to it by now?

4. Why do the '80s seem so much cooler on VH-1?

5. And finally...................will I age gracefully?

HELL NO!

Luke, I am your Mother

Star Wars was our family theme for the Halloween costumes this year. Sage was Yoda and he insisted that we call him "Master Yoda." He would go around saying "Have candy, I must." Shepard made a cute Chewbacca and he's definitely mastered Wookie language. Alan was in Jedi Knight heaven. He kept coming up to me at the party waving his hand at me and saying, "You will get me a beer now." I replied, "Listen, Obi Wan, your Jedi mind tricks don't work on me! Get your own damn beer!" People at our neighborhood Halloween party asked Alan, "Why did Jill come as Darth Vader instead of Princess Leia?" Alan responded, "Darth Vader is more her style." Hmmmm....I don't know what he means by that and if he keeps making those kind of comments I will have to destroy him.

Ok, Halloween is over now so why is Alan still walking around in his Jedi robe?!

Breakfast Bootcamp:The Crack Pipe of Dawn Part II

I always feel like the resident drill sergeant, constantly barking orders. But I have a feeling that it would be more satisfying to be a real drill sergeant since their orders are obeyed.

When we left off, Sage and I were about to go downstairs for breakfast. Cooking of the breakfast is Alan's responsibility. I feel very lucky to have a husband that actually helps with the domestic chores of the house; he is a great help to me and I couldn't do it without him. That being said, let me explain something about my husband. Have you ever heard the expression "Slow as molasses in January"? Well, that is a pretty good description of Alan. If I say to him "you need to put it in high gear, Alan" he just gives me that look that a dog gives when he is confused--the head tipped to the side, ears bent, slight furrow to the brow. Alan has no high gear. He only has 3 gears which are--Staring into space, Scratching, and Slow. It is pretty much a given that breakfast is not on the table when we arrive downstairs. I can feel my stress level rising and go into drill sergeant mode barking orders at Alan who calmly says "I go at my own pace." Sometimes I feel like I should be wearing chaps and spurs and shouting "Yah!" to get him moving. (Oh dear, I probably shouldn't have conjured that image. Alan, if you are reading this I will not be wearing chaps and spurs for you. Ok? Absolutely not! I did the Princess Leia thing, but I draw the line at Ride 'Em, Cowgirl!)

Well, slow and steady will eventually finish the race, at some point, maybe; so, he finally puts the food in front of Sage with 15 minutes to eat before we have to leave for the bus stop. Sage is his daddy's boy and getting him to focus and eat is very challenging. "Sage, stop talking and eat." "Eat, Sage." "Sage you are playing with your food." "Pick up your fork!!! EAT!" Sage's eventual reply, "Mommy, I eat at my own paste!"

I get no respect!! This past week I decided to turn the tables on them all. I took over breakfast duty and let Alan be in charge of Sage. As I am happily cooking downstairs, all I hear are the cries and screams of Sage: "You're mean!! I want Mommy! Daddy, you are hurting my feelings!" I resist the urge to intervene and just keep setting the table as they arrive downstairs. Sage, with a tear streaked face, proclaims, "Daddy is a hundred times worser than you, Mommy!!" Aaaahhhh, finally some appreciation. I hope this means that he will be more pleasant with me next week. Probably not, but it is a nice thought anyway. At least I can threaten him--Get up and no whining or I will go get Daddy. Mwuh ha ha!

The Crack Pipe of Dawn

If there was a 'Morning in Pleasantville' drug, I would definitely be smoking it. I would be sucking on that pipe for sure. I am not a morning person and, as I stuggle to drag myself from the bed at 6 a.m., I am far from being Miss Mary Sunshine. I am more like Ms. Roxy Bitchslap. However, I am a mom which means that I have to plaster on a smile and face the trials of the morning. Why does it have to be so hard, Oh Lord? Alan and I divide the morning labor. I am on Sage duty and Alan is on breakfast duty. In theory, it should run smoothly, but in reality it is my own little slice of hell.

Here is an example of the typical morning--I enter Sage's room, turn on a dim light and sing "Good Morning to You." Honestly I don't know why I sing since I remember hating it when my mom did it to me. I guess it is further proof that I am turning into my parents. After ignoring me for a few seconds Sage starts to stir and the whining starts. I try not to lose patience since any cross word or action will result in full blown crying. I hand him his cold, wet washcloth to wipe the sleepies from his eyes. It is cold because on Monday he cried when I gave him a warm washcloth. He takes the washcloth and whines, "It's too cold!!" (My smile has now cracked into a Billy Idol snarl.) I proceed to dress his limp form because his "arms and legs are not working." Then I cajole him into the bathroom for teeth and hair brushing. Since he refuses to open his eyes he trips over Shepard's potty seat. Between screams, he blurts out "It's all your fault, Mommy!" Me, "Why is it my fault? You were the one walking around with your eyes closed." Sage, "You should have led me!" What am I now--a Seeing Eye Mom?! After about 10 long minutes, 23 times of saying "Brush!!" 2 threats of what will happen if he doesn't brush ( "Your teeth will grow mold that tastes like green beans" and "Santa is putting you on the bad breath list") and one "Jesus brushed", we are finally ready to come downstairs. Stay tuned for Part II of our morning adventure.

The Name Game

My confession of the day is that Angel Omega is not my real name. Shocked, are you? Actually it is my porn name. To arrive at your porn name, take the name of your first pet and the name of the street you grew up on. That is how I got Angel Omega. Though I love my porn name and will use it as my pen name when I write my novel, I am changing my display name for my blog. I have decided to go with short and sassy. Something that is easier to chant.

My inspiration is Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs. He went from "Puff Daddy" to "Puffy" then "P. Diddy" and now it is just "Diddy". Soon it will be "Did", and finally he will just be "Was".

So my new display name shall be------J.Hi, a combination of my real first name and my maiden name. Hey at least it is not a symbol! Of course if I were to change my name to a symbol I would like it to be "$" but really it would end up being something lame like "~". So, J.Hi it will be for now. Go ahead chant it a few times...much easier, right?

Confessions of a Tooth Fairy

I felt like a terrible mother this morning. Sage lost his first tooth. He discovered it was loose Saturday morning. We were all playing on the bed and Shepard accidentally elbowed Sage in the mouth. Sage started crying and yelling, "Shepard knocked my tooth loose!!" He would not let me touch it and all morning he held his lip pulled down because he didn’t want the lip to touch it. All the while drool was streaming down his arm and he kept crying and saying “I on awn oo ose eye oof.” (I don’t want to lose my tooth.) He finally calmed down and accepted it and even became proud of the loose tooth. But he still would not let me or Alan touch it. I remember when I was a kid how freaked out I was when I had a loose tooth because it seemed like once the adults found out, all they wanted to do was to try and pull it. So I decided to be laid back about it and let the tooth fall out on its own or let Sage pull it himself.

Well, this morning at breakfast Sage yelled, “My tooth is gone!” It’s true, the tooth was gone without a trace. Alan and I rushed up to his bedroom to search in the bed for it but with no luck. I am assuming that he probably swallowed it in the night which really makes me cringe. We did not mention this fact to Sage. I told Alan to quickly go grab a fiver and slip it under Sage’s pillow. As Sage is walking up the stairs Alan rushes down the hall and whispers, “All I have is a ten!” So I quickly snatch it and shove it under the pillow right before Sage walks in. When he found out that we did not find the tooth, he said, “Maybe the Tooth Fairy came in and plucked it in the night.” So he looked under his pillow and found the money. I will never forget his reaction--so purely awestruck, such perfect excitement. It made me so happy for him and reminded me of how fun it was to believe in the magical. Alan and I just smiled at each other and uttered a silent “Whew!”

It turned out fine but I just felt horrible that I let him swallow his tooth and now I don’t have his first tooth to save. And to top it all off Sage thinks that he gets $10 for each tooth. He will have the most expensive mouth on the East Coast. Hope he doesn’t need braces too!

Saturday Scowl

People who mow their grass in a diagonal pattern really piss me off.

Spinnin' and winnin'

I had just returned from my doctor's appointment where I learned the diagnosis for two days worth of extreme dizziness. My doctor said, "Classic case of vertigo caused by an inner ear virus." I was just relieved that it wasn't a brain tumor or extended spins from my bender the previous Saturday.

Alan had taken the morning off of work so I could go to my appointment baby-free. So I am lying on the bed explaining my diagnosis to Alan when he announces "This is the perfect time for a nooner! I mean, you are lying down anyway, right?" I couldn't really argue with that logic so I agreed. So after we gated Shepard in his room and gave him a cookie to stop the screaming, we did it. And it was great!! He made my head swim or maybe that was just the vertigo. But right after the "ooooo" and just before the "ahhhhh, yeah" I had a revelation. Nooners are the answer!!

I hate having sex in the morning, evenings are too busy, and at night I just want to watch TV or read. So this is answer to our question--where does sex fit in? Nooner! I won't be too tired, Alan will get it on a regular basis with lunch thrown in too, and I can still watch Lost without being groped! Oh, happy day! I'd say it's a win-win for all parties.

Rock Star Mommy

I am feeling nostalgic this week after sending my first born off to kindergarten one week ago. So here is something I wrote when Sage was 2 years old...

I want to be a rock star. I want to behave badly and have people say, “Oh, well, you know how it is—she is a rock star. That is just the way they are.” I want to cuss, destroy furniture, throw liquor bottles at the wall, punch mirrors, and (the coolest) shoot a TV screen out--not my big TV, maybe an old one, the kind with a knob and antennae. I want blue and orange M&Ms provided for me at all times. I want to check myself into rehab just to get some sleep. I want to go through the McDonald drive-thru in a limo. I want to get on stage in front of ten thousand people and rage and complain about all my problems and everything that pisses me off—and then have them applaud, light their lighters, and scream “Wooo, yeeeeaaah, go girl!”
I would be very popular, but also very controversial. I would say all the things other parents would only dream of saying. Women would love me because I speak about issues to which they relate. Men would love me for kick-ass music and loud gritty vocals. I would tell about the challenges and frustrations I face as a Home Administrator (this used to be called a House wife many tens of years ago.) I need an outlet for my domestic angst. Here are the songs on my debut album …
1. Don’t! Stop! NO! (The only words I seem to say now that I own a toddler)
2. Do you want a smack? (Oh yeah, I say that too.)
3. He dumped the laundry basket after I folded the whole load
4. Dropping your spoon pisses me off (and you know it)
5. I said come here and he ran the other way
6. Meltdown in the car (a mother’s hell)
7. Why does the pink toilet mold grow so fast?
8. The delivery that was supposed to come between 12 and 4 and did not come until 4:02
9. Listening to a running toilet for relaxation
10. Hey Cat, can you only yak on the carpet? Why not the hardwood floor?
11. Why can’t we have Spaghetti every night? (That’s easy to make.)
12. Pee in the potty (Ballad to Sage and Alan)
13. Time out does not work, let’s just beat him (Just kidding, CPS)

I think that is a good start. The longer I am a Home administrator, the more material I amass. It is amazing to me how such a little being can cause so much frustration. One minute he is so sweet, the next minute he is running through the house screaming, chasing the cat, ripping his clothes off, and throwing them down the stairs. I say No, he says Yes. I say let’s go out, he says lets stay in. Ok, now let me tell you about Sage… If he does not like his food, he throws it across the room. He cries because he cannot have Spaghetti-Os for breakfast and Fruit Loops for dinner. He drives me to the brink of madness. Like Linkin’ Park says “Everything you say to me, takes me one step closer to the edge, and I’m about to break.” And just when I cannot take anymore, when I am about to run screaming from the house and throw myself in traffic, he says that one little thing, “You know what, Mama, I love you.” And then rock star mommy falls at his feet and kisses each one of his precious toes.

A Tale of a Fateful Trip *

Alan, Sage, Shepard and I took our first vacation as a family back in August. We went to the beach for 5 days. It was an eye opening experience and these are the things we learned...

1. It is possible to over pack a station wagon
2. Realizing that becoming your parents is inevitable when we used the phrase "Do you want me to pull this car over!!"
3. A pool view room does not necessarily mean a view of the pool that you are allowed to swim in
4. Chicken nuggets are considered seafood to those 5 years and younger
5. Babies will eat sand but not their veggies
6. Peeing can be educational--demonstrated by Sage when he came up to me and said excitedly, "Mommy! When yellow pee goes into blue toilet water, it makes green!"
7. Swim diapers are not unisex--Shepard was the victim of this lesson since he had to wear pink Little Mermaid swim diapers and endure his brother taunting him with "Girl diaper! Girl diaper!"
8. No matter how hard you try, you will never catch that seagull (Shepard's lesson learned)
9. Finding out that your husband is into watersports--when he asks you to pee on his jellyfish sting
10. It is a very bad idea to say to your spouse "Look, this is my vacation." (Alan was the one who learned that lesson.)
11. Children who sleep until 8:30 a.m. at home will rise at 6:00 a.m. on vacation
12. Sex on the top of a toilet seat is not worth it---ever!
13. Parents really cannot have sex on a family vacation
14. The crack of your ass can store sand for 7 to 10 days after you vacation ends
15. Family vacations are not relaxing, but very memorable

* R.I.P. Gilligan

The state of being away...What is absence?

Forgive me, bloggers for I have sinned. It has been 3 weeks since my last post.

I have been neglecting my blog as of late. It is not for lack of material to write about--oh no! I have plenty to say. It is just that the past three weeks have been chocked full of activity and emotional ups and downs that I just don't know where to start. We took our first real family vacation, we prepared for and sent our first born to kindergarten and we enjoyed the last days of summer vacation. Now that Sage is in school I should have more time to blog. Here are two quick Sage and Shepard stories just to hold you...

Sage told me one day, "Mommy, sometimes I pee so hard that my butt pops." He even tried to demonstrate it for me, but his butt would not perform. :)

Shepard's new thing is emptying containers. He sees a bin or a box he turns it right over. One morning he got his hands on the open Cocoa Puffs cereal box. He turned it over emptying all the contents on the floor. Sage laughed and said, "Look, Shepard is eating the cereal off of the floor. Isn't that funny?!" As I gazed at the mess, I said, "No, it isn't funny." Sage said, "Aaaaawww, where is your sense of humor?" Sometimes I wonder that myself.

I'm a Survivor

I survived the iBook Riot of Richmond!! If you don't know what I am talking about, here is the link...

Times Dispatch article

Our county was selling off iBooks because they are switching to Dell for the school kids. Anyway, they had 1,000 to sell for $50. Alan and I thought we might as well try and get one since it was such a good deal. Would have been cool for Sage and I to use around the house. So we arrived at 5:30 and got in a long line. Turns out there was no need for a line because the idiots running the sale just opened the gate up at 7 and let people run in like crazy freaks. It was ridiculous. People were trampled, thank goodness there were only minor injuries. Alan and I were not at the front and not involved in the trampling. Although I told my mom (just for fun) that I was the one who ran over the old man with the walker. :)

Anyway, Alan and I didn't get one. Mainly because we are not aggressive people and are not willing to trample, push, or cut in front of people. We are too civilized, I guess. I was disappointed but I figure that those people must have needed it a lot more than I did. What really made us angry was the way the whole thing was handled. I think they should have let people in gradually instead of in a huge stampede. They could have also passed out numbers or tickets guaranteeing you a computer instead of letting 10,000 people stand out in the hot sun wondering if they would get one. Alan and I stayed a good while hoping that we might have a shot. Also because rumors were running rampant that they had more than 1,000 iBooks. Why else would they let all those people just stay there waiting? We found out later it was because they were idiots. It was really unnecessary for people to get hurt over this. I talked with two high school students who had been trampled. The girl had scrapes on her elbow, knees, shoulder and hip. The guy had a footprint mark on the back of his shirt and told me "I thought I was going to die." That really upset me. They only had 5 off duty cops there at the beginning of the sale and by the end had 70 cops there, some in riot gear. Alan said that was like closing the barn door after the horse had already run out.

The guy who was in charge of running the sale made some very ignorant comments in the news after the sale such as "people came out for the excitement or entertainment value." And they (the county) would not have done anything any differently. That really pissed me off and I wrote him a scathing email. I also wrote the Board of Supervisors to complain about him. I am such a rebel. ;)

Well, though we came away empty handed (except for a sunburn) it wasn't all bad. Just mostly. I did meet some nice people and had a few laughs. They liked it when I played Bob Marley's "Get up, Stand up" for them from my iPod. Alan and I had some alone time--we bonded. And I can always tell my grandchildren how I was there at the iBook Riot of 2005. :) I had a great idea for a t-shirt "I stood in line for an iBook and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Someone beat me to the punch though. Check it out
http://www.tuaw.com/2005/08/16/henrico-ibook-chaos-makes-good-t-shirt-fodder/
Very funny.

Pussy Problem

Or is it a kitty conumdrum? My cat is sooooo fat. How fat is she? She is sooooo fat that she cannot clean her own ass. As you can imagine, there is a crappy, smelly buildup. And just to add an exclamation point to the fact that she has a nasty ass, our little darling has recently started the practice of dragging her large bottom around and leaving track marks on the carpet. It's her own little breadcrumb trail, but with shit. So we tried to handle it like this...

But the size 4 diaper didn't really fit and did not stay on long. As you can tell she is not amused.

So now we have to take her to the vet every six weeks for her booty shave. We also have to wash the area on a regular basis. And Daddy Alan gets the pleasure of being the resident cat ass washer. I am on the side of the tub yelling, "Clean that kitty! Polish that Pussy!" As you can tell he is not amused.

Meow!

11? Feels like 107

Today Alan and I are celebrating our 11th anniversary. We always joke that it feels like so much longer. And for me it does, but not in a bad way. I feel like my life began when I met him. It is just hard for me to think about the years that I did not know him--well, except for the college years which were kick ass--woooooo!! Anyway, we met in second semester of our 4th year at UVA which was perfect timing. We had both sown our wild oats apart and now were ready to sow some together. Boy, that sounded so 'Corn'y! Ha, I crack myself up. We started dating on March 27th, 1992 and he asked me to marry him on December 23rd, 1993. That was a formality really because from very early on I knew I would marry him. Alan claims that he knew he would marry me after our first meeting. On the one hand that is so cool, but on the other hand it's a little creepy. Is he my soulmate or my stalker?

So you may ask, after 11 years are you still in love with him? Yes, yes and again yes. Of course it is a very different love than it was 11 years ago--then it was all "this is so romantic being able to finally live with you and have sex and be all cutesy." Now I would describe it as a "you are my partner in all things and the father of my children and if you ever left me alone with them I would take a Henkel and cut out your still beating heart" kind of love. Yes, love means
never having to tell your mate that you don't want any more children because he feels the same way.

On that note, for his anniversary present, Alan will receive a pack of Trojans and a gift certificate for a few sessions of couple's therapy. Alright, I am just kidding about the therepy, but the Trojans, mabye not so much. My kids are the best gift Alan has ever given me, but if I want to stay married another 11 years or more, we have to stop at 2. And ever since Shepard has grown out of the infant stage we have been able to get out on our own a little more and recapture some of the passionate 1994 love. Yes, I have a thong and I am prepared to use it!! Now I am exciting myself. Gotta go and shave the pits for my romantic night. Holla!

The Fives

The five best days of my life...

1. The day I walked onto the grounds of UVA and realized that I was leaving all the high school shit behind and I could be a cool kid now
2. The day I married my husband (which was also the day that I started having sex.)
3. The day that I was sliced open like a fish and Sage was pulled out into my world.
4. The day that I became a birth warrior and without drugs pushed Shepard out into my world defying the odds and the crappy medical community that continues to discourage birthing families
5. The day that McDonalds started taking debit cards--Ba da ba ba bah--I'm lovin' it!!

Going Down? Too Scared

Sage and I were walking side by side around the mall yesterday. We were not holding hands because apparently age 5 is when one starts to become embarrassed to hold his mother's hand in public. Or it may be that he wanted to be free to wander to all the places he finds interesting since wherever I want to go is always too "boring." So we approach the escalator side by side, step on the metal platform side by side, and step onto the escalator side by...oops, wait a minute, where is Sage? I glance down and realize he is not by my side. I turn around to discover that he is still standing on the metal platform. For a moment I stand there shocked and descending while Sage looks at me with his eyebrows raised. I snap out of my shock and I whisper yell, "Sage, come on!!" He replies, "I can't, Mommy, I'm afraid to step on." (Sidenote: Sage has been on escalators before and he is not afraid of escalators. He was just freaked out about the taking the first step and I can totally understand that for who among us hasn't given pause as we stare down at that moving step, then another, then another, then another, then..sorry, back to topic) So I whisper yell again, "Just do it!!" Great advice, huh? Sage, "No, I am too scared."

Usually I would just ride down and then ride right back up to collect my child. But the problem is that the up escalator is not right beside the down escalator, it is a little further down the mall. Not very far, but far enough that Sage would be out of my eyesight for about one minute. This thought raises my anxiety level to orange. So I start stepping, trying to walk up the down escalator. After about 10 seconds I realize that I am not moving. What I mean is that my legs were moving, but I was making no progress in my climb. I increase the pace or so I thought and I am still going nowhere fast. Damn, this escalator is flying! So, I start to run up the stairs, trying my best to reach my baby. Finally I reach within 3 steps of the metal platform only to realize that I cannot traverse the moving flat part of the escalator without most likely having an incident. I call out to him, "Ok, step on." Sage "No." At that moment, I see a nice man walking by who is looking over at Sage in a concerned manner. He says something to him like "you ok, buddy?" then he sees me doing my mall stairmaster workout. I managed to say, "He's afraid to step on." So what does this nice man do? He smiles and keeps walking. Well, fuck you very much, kind sir.

At that point I just give up and just let the escalator take me. I yell up to Sage, "Stay right there. Do not move!! I am coming to get you!!" So my workout changes from stairmaster to speed walking down the mall to the up escalator, and then back to stairmaster as I run up. I finally have my beloved child in sight. He is standing on the metal platform tapping his toe on first moving step. I am almost to him when I hear an older lady remark to her friend, "Is anyone with that child?" I promptly claim him, "I am. He's with me." I take his hand and we step on the down escalator. As we are decending I look back to see the lady watching me and giving me a look that seems to say 'How could you leave your child alone playing near an escalator?' So I give her my own look back that says 'Lady, don't judge me 'cause I'll kick your ass. I work out!"

A Sage Moment X4

When you have children, people often give the advise "You should write that down." But sadly, I never have...until now. 'A Sage Moment' will be a running feature on my blog. It's my chance to write down the things that Sage does or says that I would like to remember. Here are the latest gems from my Sage...

I had to take him to get his 5 year old immunizations last week. He was understandably very upset about the whole process and I don't blame him. Getting one shot is hard enough for a little guy, but he had to get three. Anyway, I ended up having to wrap my legs and arms around him in order for him to be still enough to receive the shots (my pediatric nurse experience always comes in handy.) So that night when Alan got home he said to Sage, "I heard you had to get shots today, poor thing. But I heard you were very brave." Sage looked at Alan with a puzzled face and said, "No, I wasn't. I was a scardy cat."

During a tender moment with Sage I was trying to express to him how much I love him. I said, "You know what you are like? It's like someone took a knife, cut off part of my heart, stuck legs arms and hair on it and now you are walking around." He looked at me and said, "Awww, shucks." :)

This morning I told Sage that he couldn't play until he picked up the one thousand and two Lego pieces off the floor of his room. He was very outdone that I would not help him. After about 5 minutes alone in his room he walked into the office and said, "Mama, my pinkie toe really hurts and so I can't clean."

Sage, Shepard and I were all fascinated by the garbage truck this morning. We watched as a mechanical arm emerged from the side of the truck to pick up and empty our trash can. Sage described it well; he said, "It's like an evil grasp."

A Shepard's Tale

I have discovered that Shepard is starting to learn his body parts--well, actually just one, his penis. I told Alan that though I had been working on 'Where's your nose?' for a week, Shepard only seemed to know his penis. So we decided to test him in the bath. I asked Shepard, "Where's your penis?" He smiled and grabbed his penis. Then, "Where's your nose?" Blank stare. "Where's your penis?" He grabbed his penis, squealed "Eeeeeee", then clapped. "Where's your nose?" Blank stare, again.

Oh the penis, isn't that truly a man's best friend?

No, Norman, your teeth will rot

We have tried to teach Shepard baby signs as we did with Sage. Shepard does a few signs but has seemed to go straight to talking. At this point in his little life (14 months old) he has quite a vocabulary--hi, bye bye, ball, kitty, bird, side (for outside), Daddy, Mama, and Ga (for Sage.) Of course his all time favorite word is cookie which he says in a high pitched little squeal that sounds more like "Cu-keeeee!!" The little bugger was saying 'cookie' before he even said 'Mama'--the nerve!! He asks for a cookie no less than 37 times a day--even after breakfast. He recognizes the cookies bags and boxes and even knows that I keep a few cookies in a purple snack cup in his diaper bag. The boy knows his cookies.

So what was I thinking on my recent trip to the grocery store? Things were fine at first; Shepard was sitting in the cart calmly smiling up at me as if he understood my stream of consciousness chatter about the items on our shopping list. Somewhere between the juice and the frozen food is when it happened--I turned down the cookie aisle. I was strolling along unaware when I heard the first sounds emanate from Shepard. A soft and delighted, "Cu-kee." As we rolled on the volume started to slowly escalate and the "kees" became longer and shriller. Before I knew it I was the Janet Leigh in Baby Psycho. Standing in the cookie aisle, the camera rushes to a tight shot of my horrified face. Instead of the staccato shrieks of the violin during the shower scene, it's the escalating sounds of "Cu-kee! Cu-keee! Cu-keeee! Cu-keeeee!" I frantically searched for a way out, but everywhere I turned were Oreos, NutterButters, a menagerie of Animal Crackers and the damn Keebler elf, his jolly grin, mocking me. I glanced back, but then decided to make a run for it straight ahead. All the while "Cu-keee! Cu-keee!" ringing in my ears. I raced to the end turned the corner and came to rest in the coffee section, out of breath, heart pounding, ears ringing. With eyes closed I tried to calm myself. Shepard was finally quiet. My heartbeat slowed to normal. I opened my eyes and looked down at Shepard. He reached out for me, grinned angelically and said, "Cu-kee!" (add staccato violins sounds here)

Frogger Fantastic

Went out browsing today with the boys 'cause there was nothing else to do and I did not want to go home and sit in the house. On a whim, and because it was on sale, I bought a plug and play Frogger game. I freakin' love those plug and play games. I still get to enjoy playing a video game or two without the commitment of an X-Box. The graphics are pretty good on these plug and plays though I suspect the X-Box games are better. But, hell, what do I care? I grew up with Atari. I could be content to just move a line around the screen to keep the dot from going away. I do not mind little tanks made out of 4 squares. It's all good! Plus I was an Atari goddess. I could tear it up on Atari. I was schweeeet.

But sadly now, I have turned into one of those adults that I used to laugh at--the ones that have very little coordination and the reaction time of a frozen snail. But back in the day, I was the Frogger Queen. My frogs were just a green blur--I was magic! I think my mad frog skills started to decline around the time that the Mario Brothers hit. Then it was college, marriage, kids--lots of stuff came along and kept me and the frog apart. But now the Queen is back, biatches!! Eat my froggy dust!

The Fives

Five things that really creep me out...

1. Argyle
2. A single hair--you know like the single hair you find in your food or on the bar of soap or the hair sticking out of a mole
3. Verne Troyer
4. Men with hairy necks--cause if their neck is that hairy, what is their back like?
5. Civil War Reenactors

Another Sage Moment

We went to dinner with Alan's family tonight. I took Sage to the bathroom and turned my back in the stall while he pooped. He likes his privacy, you know. So I am standing there waiting and I hear him say, "Hmmm, my poop is black today." The way he said it seemed to indicate that he checks this each day. I wonder what the color of his poop means to him. I should have asked.

A Sage Moment

Sage was playing with some of his 5 year old toys when Shepard walked up and started grabbing them. Sage exclaimed, "Aaaaw, Shepard, go pick on somebody your own size!"

The Fives

The five things I appreciate more after having children...

1. Alone time--to shop, eat, drive, poop, blog, etc.
2. Cranking music with explicit lyrics in the car
3. Urinary sphincter control
4. Silence
5. My parents

The Cowboy Mouth Experience

Last Friday night Alan and I went to see Cowboy Mouth in concert here in Richmond. We had fallen in love with this band after seeing them at Jazz Fest in New Orleans in April. Our good friends had been telling us how great they were for years, but you really cannot appreciate them until you see them live and they will blow you away!! Anyway, we were very excited to see them in our own hometown and especially since it was free!! Free is always good for me!!

We had Alan's parents keep the kids for the night so we could let loose and Hakuna Matata it. And I should say we did! I was very proud of us. We arrived early and snagged a great front row center spot--standing, of course. Cowboy Mouth did not disappoint. They are like a lightening bolt through your soul and you have no choice but to move with their song.

About half way through the show, Fred (the drummer/lead singer) threw a cracked drumstick into the audience. I turned around to discover that it had fallen behind me and I noticed a blond-haired girl begin to stoop to pick it up. But with my catlike reflexes, I snatched it up before she knew what had happened. I do not feel guilty about this at all. After all, I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I need a little excitement of my own creation at times; excitement that has nothing to do with pee, poop, or spilled Cheerios. Little did I know that the adventure was not over.

During the fianle of the show, the band had launched into "Jenny Says." Fred was telling people to get up on stage and dance. Suddenly I realized that he was staring into my eyes over the drumset, pointing his drumstick at me and saying, "YOU! Come on up here." It was as if God himself looked down on me from on high and declared "Yes, come on up, you made the cut!" OK, I am being a bit dramatic here, but just remember, I don't get out much. Alan and some other guys in the crowd hoisted my big ass over the four foot barrier and I managed to jump up on the stage. Then I preceded to let it all go. I danced, pranced and had a ball with Alan looking up at me and cheering me on.

Since I have become a parent I tend to dissect events and analyze them, searching for the meaning, the lesson, the why and what have I learned of it all. So, what can I take away from this night? What did I learn while dancing wildly on stage? I learned that Alan and I do not go out alone enough. I learned that we really do need to let go, have fun, and recharge. We need to continue to make memories that just involve the two of us. I think this is one of those memories--The Cowboy Mouth Experience.

Hey Alan, to us! Cheers!!

If anyone orders Merlot...Wha? Huh?

This all started in May when Alan's parents went on the Sideways
wine tour near L.A. So Alan's dad comes home as the Sideways expert. This is not the type of movie he would usually enjoy. The last movie I saw him excited about was Saving Private Ryan. If not for the predominace of wine in the movie, I am quite sure he would not even give this movie a second haughty sniff. So even though we got our copy of the movie from Netflix a month before, Tom insisted that we couldn't watch it until he came over and watched it with us. Then the elaborate scheme started. He decided that while we watched the movie we would taste the same wine that they were tasting in the movie (he had bought a lot of the wines on his tour.) And then he declared that Alan had to cook a nice dinner to complement the wines. So Alan and I finally decided to do the dinner on Father's Day evening. On Thursday while on the phone with his dad I heard Alan say, "So, we can have dinner and then watch the movie." Pause "Oh, we are watching the movie first? OK." To which I whispered to him, "No, not ok. We have to watch the movie after dinner so the kids will be in bed." Alan tried to explain this to his dad but they decided that would interrupt the "natural progression" of wine, food, etc.

I was not happy about this turn of events because I knew it would mean certain disaster. Dinner time is not only starts one of the busiest times of the day, it is also fussy time for Shepard. I knew I would not be able to enjoy the movie if I had to worry about kid issues. Though I thought I was just being logical, Alan said I was not being open-minded. Since I got painted with the bad guy brush, I tried to suck it up and go with the flow.

Summary of the evening...They arrived at 5:00. We didn't get the movie started until about 6 due to kid issues. Alan's mom was supposed to take care of the kids while we watched the movie, but she is just not familiar with the evening routine. So, I still had to make Shepard's dinner, get Sage a snack, start the bath, get PJs out, and nurse Shepard. While we are watching the movie Shepard is fussing in the background and Sage was running around poking us with his light saber and yelling, "I am the evil Sith Lord!!" We had to keep shuffling Sage off to another room since the movie was rated R and they kept dropping the F-bomb and having sex. We had to pause the movie every 5 or 10 minutes to take care of kids or so Alan's dad could get the next wine ready.

Then Tom kept talking throughout the movie---"Oh, we were at that winery. We stood right there." "Do you taste the hints of asparagus in this wine?" "We ate there! We sat at that table. They didn't have tables along that wall." "We stayed in that hotel!" "This next line is funny. He is saying if anyone orders Merlot, he is leaving." "She is getting ready to give a great speech about wine." "This is the funniest part of the movie coming up." "Remember she told him the hotel was to the right and see how she is turning to the left."---It went on and on. Alan finally spoke up and said, "Ok, thanks for the commentary, John Madden." But his dad didn't get it. We finally ate dinner at 9 (even though Alan had assured me that we would eat by no later than 7:30) and Sage was not in bed until 10. Then we had to watch the rest of the movie. So we started the movie at 6 and didn't finish it until 11!! I had let go of my anger by then--drinking 5 different kinds of wine in one evening helps. :)

I could see it in Alan's face that he knew I had been right. Trying to watch the movie first was a big mess. Of course in all of his manliness he couldn't come out and admit it and just apologize. But I think he knows deep down that Mommy knows best.

Got Milk?

I had lunch with my friend Karen. Her son Sammy is the same age as Sage (born in 2000.) We met at Burger King with the boys. We had not seen them in a while so Sage and Sammy were very excited to see each other and immediately ran to the play area. We sat and watched them play and chatted. Then Karen went off to the bathroom. While she was gone Sammy came back over near the table and he spit up a small amount on the floor. The lady at the next table brought it to my attention so I grabbed a baby wipe and went over to wipe his mouth. I told Sammy to sit down and rest and he says, "I'm fine." He then proceeds to vomit what I think was a gallon of milk all over the floor. I am standing there holding a baby wipe watching the horror with milk vomit splattered all over my cutest shoes. The people at the adjacent tables were scattering in all directions. Sage is standing there holding his mouth like he is going to lose it next. So I yelled, "Sage, back away, just get away!!" Karen is still in the bathroom. I am standing there stunned and cannot leave the kids to get Karen or to get the Burger King mop brigade. So one of the other moms offers to go get Karen. And Sammy says, "I feel better now!"

Karen says he does this every so often when he drinks too much milk and runs around. So the Burger King mop man comes over to clean it up and Karen tells me "Oh, go ahead and get your food." That is really the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. While we were eating Sammy started coughing and Sage said to him, "Sammy, don' t throw up again!"

Oh and don't worry, my shoes are fine. They cleaned up nicely.

Penis Envy?

Why is it that I have just as much fun with my 5 year old son's birthday presents as he does? Am I reliving my childhood or am I living my first childhood as a boy? Of course as a young girl I played with young girl toys. And at 34 I finally discover that Barbie does not compare with an electronic light saber to battle your neighborhood foes or building your own TIE fighter with Legos. I love the boy toys--I love them all!! Sometimes I have a nasty urge to rip the toys out of his precious little hands and scream "MINE!"

So was I deprived as a child? Is my current discontent due to playing with the wrong toys? No, I believe I get the best of both worlds--growing up doing girly things and now experiencing the magic of a little boys life.

So the other day while wearing huge The Thing hands, Sage punched me right in the groin. I yelled, "Ow, that hurt!" Sage replies, "Sorry, mommy, for hitting you in your penis." I said, "I don't have a penis." He laughed and said, "Oh, I forgot. Sorry for hitting you where your penis should be."

Episode IV

I have been staring at this blog for a week wondering how to start. So I decided to start in the middle or actually start in the present--the here and now.

My first baby boy, Sage, just turned 5 on Thursday. We had his kid party in the backyard yesterday. We had four of his friends over for a Sponge Bob party. The kids had lots of water fun in the backyard with a big blow up pool and a Slip and Slide. They had a ball. We also had a Sponge Bob piñata which would not die. We let each kid have a couple of whacks at it with the bat. Nothing happened. So we did round two and let them all have another turn. Still not even a tiny rip. At this point the kids became candy crazed. They proceeded to surround Sponge Bob and ripped him limb from limb. After all of his appendages were gone they tore open his square pants and the candy was released. It was a little scary. And one arm and one leg are still unaccounted for.


Sponge Bob dismembered