Follow My Lead

               

Last weekend we had a wedding to attend. I packed the car and drove an hour to the city to pick my husband up from work. Due to my lack of direction, he would drive the rest of the way.

The bride and groom's car breaking down wasn't part of the plan.

When we caught up to the bridal party caravan, squeezed on the side of a windy road, in the pouring rain, the groom's car was finally running. Still not willing to chance it, my husband decided we should drive their kids in our car to be safe.

No problem.  Then...

"Hey babe," my husband said.  "I'll ride with the groom, you take the bride."

The expression on my face dropped. I had a bad feeling, this wasn't the best idea.

"Oh, that's right, I was supposed to drive,"  he remembered.

"Well, it's not ideal...but, I guess I can handle it..." I replied sarcastically. Thoughts of, I don't know where the hell I'm going, were flashing through my mind.

After everyone was crammed into random cars, my husband tapped on the driver side window. "The grooms parents don't know where their going, so let them follow you." 

Great!  So it was the blind leading the blind. What could go wrong?  I had a stressed, panicked bride riding shot gun, twin toddlers in the backseat, and two senior citizens tailing my lead.

"Weddings always have a glitch,"  I reminded the bride.  "This was yours, nothing else can go wrong."

When the exit approached, I turned my blinker on early signaling the car behind me to follow. Then a semi truck cut in front of me, it slowed down and blocked my view of the road ahead.  The exit appeared to be a two lane off ramp, so I switch lanes. 

I was wrong! I cranked my steering wheel right and switched back at the last possible second clipping the off ramp median with my front left tire. I looked to my right with a gut wrenching feeling, I just lost the groom's parents... 

...and in slow motion, I saw the faces of two elderly people drop in disbelief as they missed the exit..so what do I do? 

Wave good-bye.

Goldfish Crusade

The goldfish bowl teetered in Rio's arms as he stood, sobbing over the toilet.

"Okay ...it's time to say good-bye." I nudged.

"But I love him!" Rio cried.

"Honey, he's been dead for a week," I explained. "It's time to let him go."

Reluctantly, Rio tilted his fish bowl over the toilet.

"Wait!" My husband snatched the bowl from him and held it up. We stared with disbelief.

"He's alive!" Rio's prayers were answered.

"Tell me that didn't happen," I mumbled. "I haven't fed his fish in two months..."

"Why won't this fish die?" My husband chuckled.
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The Magic Rule

This was the face of utter anxiety.  Sadly for Rio, I'm stone cold and cannot be broken.  While standing in line, for the majority of  rides at Disneyland, Rio had complete meltdowns.  

"Do I have to go on this ride Mom?"  Rio cried and pleaded, before every ride.

"You know the rule,"  I explained for the one hundredth time.  "If we come to Disneyland, we go on ALL of the rides."

His tears were convincing, and random people in line were sympathetic, shooting me dirty looks and shaking their heads.  I know, what kind of mother am I...forcing my child to do something he doesn't want to.

"Mom...my stomach hurts," Rio held his stomach in agony. "I don't feel good!"

The dirty looks quickly turned to looks of fear. It  was understandable, there was a chance he wasn't bluffing, but it was a chance I was willing to take.

Does this look like a kid who didn't benifit from my magic rule? 

❤

The Happiest Place on Earth



The Magical World of Disney is the happiest place on earth.  It was the perfect place to celebrate Amaya's birthday.  Ten!  How the heck did that happen?  Her first double digit age! 

I weaseled my way into an exclusive deal not meant for us, and after the price was quoted I couldn't pass it up.  Our six day Disneyland Resort package was a steal, and I was the sneaky thief.  

My husband and I rationalized the price.  According to our calculations the price of a Disney Vacation equaled the price of an elaborate themed party.  Minus the planning, the set up, the stress, the clean up and the ponies. 

What we hadn't planned on: Amaya and Rio's endless need for water. Thirty-two dollars and 8 bottled waters later, I insisted they save their empty bottles and refill them in the drinking fountains. Community water fountains do make me cringe, but Rio practically licked the entire park anyway, so what did it really matter.

I was prepared for the  four dollar per gallon gas prices, due to the increased cost of a barrel of oil, but how much does a barrel of water cost?  Is water being imported from the desert as well?

"Mom I'm hungry," Amaya complained.  "When are we going to eat?"

"Me too," Rio followed his sister's lead.

"Ugh...I have to feed you too?"  I joked.

I was scared, and you'd be scared too!  What would it cost to feed them? 

I'm happy to report that a family of four can eat for the bargain price of $29.96, without drinks, of course.  Food is cheaper than water.

Now that's magical.

Umbrella Assumption

Packing for a trip is no small task.  I'm neurotic, I'm not one of those people who can throw a few things in a bag and go.  If I were, traveling would be easier.  Instead my process involves check lists, charts, to-do lists, paying the bills in advance, cleaning, and multiple trips to the store to buy last minute items I don't use at home, but somehow can't live without on vacation.

My husband doesn't see what the big deal is, after all the only thing he was responsible for was the umbrellas.  If Rio can handle three tasks, surely my husband could remember one.

Three days into our vacation dark clouds formed and then it rained. My husband informed me that he left the umbrellas in the car, so we hiked a half mile through the self parking lot to retrieve them.

"The umbrellas aren't in here,"  my husband said as he rummaged through the trunk.

"Yeah okay, very funny."  I thought he was kidding, until he approached me empty handed.

"Where are they?" He asked sternly.

"I remember asking you to pack them...and you were like...no problem hunny,"  I mocked him.

"I assumed they were in the trunk,"  he stated.

"Well you know what they say about assuming..."  I rolled my eyes with irritation.

"They're always in the trunk, who took them out?"  His defense: it was my fault.

"It's been raining, so the kids take them to school."  I pointed to the sky.  "Umbrellas won't keep them dry sitting in the trunk."

Next time, I'm assuming he packed his underwear. 

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Numb Tongue

Every time I tried to swallow I would gag on my tonsils, but my only other option was to drool instead.

My numb tongue felt fat and swollen. When I spoke I slurred my words similar to an uncle that liked to polish off a bottle of Gin discretely in the back bathroom at Christmas.

The left side of my face was asleep, and when I smiled I resembled a stroke victim. My teeth were big and the inside of my cheek was bleeding.

As karma had it, I broke a tooth the other day while flossing. And that broken tooth, broke my seven year boycott of the dentist.

I forgot how fun it was to get a Novocaine shot.  My dentist kindly reminded me.

"Mom, thoo you wanth me thoo thake a thower afther thinner?"  Amaya asked as she imatated me.

Yeah, she's a hoot.

Kid Cuisine

I used to love to cook, but lately...I have to admit, cooking isn't my top priority. So I let my kids make dinner last night. But really, they insisted on helping and then took over. 

Amaya did the potatoes and Rio was in charge of the griddle.

"Mom! I'm bleeding!" Amaya panicked. "It stings! It stings, it stings, it stings." 

"Stop being so dramatic. Go get a band aid," I told her.

"Rio! Go get me a band aid," she ordered.

"No...you go get it!" he responded back. "You're not dying!"

The second Amaya left the sink, Rio was in her spot, peeling her potatoes. Amaya came back to the kitchen to find her little brother doing her job.

"Mom!  He's in my spot!"  she protested. "Fine, Rio...I'm going to do your job then."  She tried to control the situation. "Rio, where's the spatula?" she demanded, holding out her hand.

Rio didn't answer, he just kept quietly peeling the potatoes. This infuriated her.

"Rio, the hamburger patties are burning! I have to flip them! Mauuuuum..."

"Someone please flip the patties," I demanded.

"Rio, don't use that!" Amaya bossed. "Mom he hid the spatula on the floor, under the cabinets...gross."

"What?" Rio answered the look I shot him, while he wiped the spatula off on the front of his shirt.

"Wash it," I told him. "We don't use cooking utensils that have been on the ground."

The end result. Well done hamburger patties, unevenly cooked potatoes, burnt corn, and a gallon of lumpy gravy. 

"Why does my stomach hurt so bad?" My husband moaned after our chefs were in bed.

I cited the obvious. This could do wonders for our waistlines.

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Be More Specific

Friday is the worst day to have a problem.  So I was ecstatic when Rio chose today to inform me about the hole in his tooth. 

"Mom...it hurts to brush the hole in my tooth." He complained from the bathroom.

I inspected, and sure enough, half of his top back right molar was missing. 

To get an appointment last minute on a Friday, with the dentist, is next to impossible.  It's like pulling teeth.  I had to exaggerate, embellish, and plead with the receptionist.  Fortunately, negotiations went well and she squeezed him in. 

After the appointment was booked I pulled him out of school and drove him to the dentist.

"I don't know what I did with the baggy..."  Rio casually mentioned from the backseat.  "The dentist probably needs it,"  he added.

"What baggy?" I questioned.

"The one with my tooth in it,"  he explained.

"What tooth Rio?"

"The one that cracked at school,"  he said.  "I heard a crack when I was eating, then I pulled part of my tooth out of my mouth."

"When did this happen?"

"Ummm...a couple weeks ago,"  he continued, as I shook my head in disbelief.  "I put it in my sandwich baggy for you."

"Why didn't you tell me what happened?" 

"You didn't ask."

Apparently, it's not enough to ask what happened at school today.

Now I know to be more specific.

This kid...unbelievable.
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Bowling Crusade

I have a secret passion for bowling.  In fact, I've been bowling since I was ten, it's one of my favorite things, so it's easy to bloviate about the striking skills I possess.

I thought my bowling ability would be passed down to my children through genetics.  I was wrong.  Instead they've adopted my bowling quirks and habits, like backing up on the approach while talking to the pins. 

Bowling is a sport that requires patience, focus and concentration.  These are my best traits.  But my kids are anxious and jumpy like rabbits.  They grab the ball and waddle quickly up to the lane like fuliguline.

"Bzzzzzzzz!"  The foul light turned on.

"What happened?"  Rio protested. "It didn't count my pins?"

"You fouled,"  I bluntly pointed out. "How many times do I have to tell you not to go over the line?!" I continued to nag.

He rolled his eyes and stomped back to his chair.  With crossed arms, he slumped down into his seat and stared blankly at the pins.  While he doesn't possess my bowling talent, he did inherit my attitude.

"A split!"  Amaya complained.  "I did exactly what you told me!" She threw her arms up in the air at the injustice.

"Obviously not!  Point your toe, look at your mark,"  I instructed her.  "The blade of your hand should come up over that third arrow." My hand motioned.

It was my turn.  I stood at the beginning of the approach, positioned my feet over the far right boards.  I took a deep breath, my right foot led, I took three steps, I kicked my left leg behind my right and with perfect form...gutter ball.

"Well it's easier said than done." 

True story!  Well not exactly...let's see if you can figure it out.

Marshmallows?

An old man recently flagged my husband down while driving.  The old man motioned for him to roll down his window and then asked him to pull over.  This man had no teeth.

"What is Raising Marshmallows?"  The old man asked slowly, pointing at the window decal on my husbands truck.  "I've been driving behind you and I just had to ask."

"My wife's blog,"  my husband answered.

"Does the white stuff spilling over the back of your tailgate have anything to do with the website?" The old man was still confused.

"No...that's taping mud."  My husband laughed, he explained it wasn't candy.

"What's the blog about then?"  The old man asked.

My husband handed him one of my business cards and suggested he check it out.

So my apologies to all who have stumbled across this blog thinking you would find marshmallows only to discover parental sarcasm. 

While the literal light, spongy, very sweet confection, made up of corn syrup, gelatin, sugar, and starch, then dusted with powdered sugar doesn't live in this blog...the proverbial kind does.
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♥ Valentine's not Valentime's ♥



It's that time of year, again.  Valentine's Day, not Valentime's Day, VALENTINE'S.  I know, it's a subtle difference, but there is a difference.

"Mom, I need my Valentime's by tomorrow!"  Amaya stated with urgency.  "My teacher said!"

"It's V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e,"  I corrected her.

"Okay, V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e..." she mocked me.  "I still need them."

At the store we stood in front of the impressive boxed card display and making a decision was impossible.  Amaya thought they were all so cute and wanted to buy her top three picks.  Obviously the answer was no. 

Rio quietly stared up at the shelves.  His eyes big with want.

"Which ones do you like?"  I asked him.  Not prepared for his answer.

"Um...I thinking...I want to get all of the girls...a bear, or a dog, or a frog, or something,"  he said.

"Well, how many girls are in your class?"  I asked.

"I don't know?" he answered. "A lot!"

"What?  He's in second grade!"  I said, leaning into my husband. 

"You know what...I was the same way."  My husband laughed into my ear.  He was proud of his little Casanova.

It was amusing.  But there are close to fifteen girls in his class.  The bears are five dollars each.  All I could see were dollar signs. 

So I had to break out my best negotiating skills, and I was able to persuade him with some pretty fantastic Sponge Bob Valentine's that came with lolly-pops.

"Can we do our Valentime's when we get home?" Amaya asked, as were leaving the store.

"It's V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e!  Gees, Amaya!"  Rio corrected her.

    

                                                           

Back to Normal

Everything is back to normal.  That is, if normal includes piles of laundry, a sink full of dishes, and playing referee to the game of  "he touched me...no, she touched me first."

Rio started the morning doing flips on his bed, kicking a soccer ball through the house, and terrorizing his sister.

Amaya took her sweet time eating her Cheerios...a solid 30 minutes.  Then decided she should kick her brother.

Surprisingly, we left for school on time and everything was peaceful in the car.  Until it wasn't.

"He's on my side!"  Amaya yelled.

"Stop pushing me!"  Rio yelled back.

"Really!"  I yelled at them through the rear view mirror.  "We're ten feet from the drop off, and you want to start this now?"

They got out of the car as I reminded them to have a nice day.

My day went by so quick without them.  Too quick.  I enjoyed the peace and quiet so much I forgot to pick them up from school.

That will teach them to fight in the car.
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Sick and Tired

February started just as pleasantly as January.  I'm being punished for skipping the flu shot. 

Today I woke up feeling better but exhausted.  The cough that has moved in is keeping me up all night so during the day all I want to do is sleep. 

Sleeping causes other problems.  I wake up to a puddle of wetness on my pillow and my sleeve with my hair plastered to the side of my face.  Even in sleep I'm aware of the torturous sore throat I have.  The drooling is completely involuntary.

It's Monday.  So imagine my excitement of sending the kids off to school.  First I drag Amaya out of bed by her ankles.

"Get up!"  I yell.  "You're going to be late."  This is due to me hitting  the snooze button repeatedly.

I go into Rio's room.  I try to shake him conscious.  He's burning up.

"Mom, my throat hurts,"  he complains.

I grab a flashlight to inspect his tonsils.  After all I am a throat expert.

"Uh-oh..."  I say.  "Looks like you're staying home." 

Then I remember.  What about my sleep?  I'm devastated. 

"You know if you stay home today, you're staying in bed?" 

"I know." 

"No video games, TV, or playing outside."

He was fine with that. So we slept all day.

The only thing worse than waking up on my own saturated pillowcase, is rolling over into his.  

♥

The Home Phone

I am down to one phone. 

Yes it's corded.

My other phones have all broke.  Apparently there is only a 14 year life span on a $12.00 phone.  Who knew?

"Go buy a phone," my husband pleads. "A decent one."

"Why?  This one still works,"  I tell him. "You have your cell phone."

"Babe, don't be so cheap," he tells me.

"Okay, I'll buy one tomorrow."  But I have no real intention.

I tell him to look on the bright side.

Aside from not having the patience to talk on a phone while tethered to the wall, missing calls because it stops ringing before we can answer it, not hearing it all together, or the calls that are dropped repeatedly while in the middle of conversations that has caused friends and family to give up.  It's not so bad.

It has cut down on phone calls placed and received in this house considerably.

Really, who needs the frustration!

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It's All About Balance

I proudly wear the titles wife and mother.  Still, I'd prefer to have the titles ruler and dictator.

I don't mind the cleaning, the laundry, the dishes, the mopping, the vacuuming, or the cooking.  I don't mind the carpooling, the scheduling, the budgeting, or the organizing.

Okay, I mind a little.  It's my job not my passion, and if I want these things done right, I have to do them. 

But it never fails, in the middle of my cleaning escapades, to look over and find my husband sitting on the couch.  Just sitting there, not doing anything.  It makes my blood boil.

I try making extra noise in the kitchen, I try turning on the vacuum behind him, I try dusting the television he can't pry his eyes off of.  All my subtle attempts fail to draw his attention.  Finally I can't stand it any longer.

"Are you just going to sit there?"  It's a demand more than a question.

He's oblivious to his three pairs of shoes scattered in the middle of the floor, the knocked over sunflower seed bowl spilling down the cushions, or the fact that he has tracked taping mud through the entire house.  I just finished sweeping!

I start thinking, "Men have it so easy!  I wish I were that blind."

Then I remember, that's why he has me in his life...to make his life harder. 

It's all about balance.
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