A few things.

108156828521165854_sD0WAP04_f
Been gone awhile.

No, I wasn’t on vacation. I just got my ass kicked by the last few weeks, which have been leading up to the END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR…this Thursday. Not that I’m dreading it or anything.

Anyway, during my absence, I discovered a few things.

The first is that, judging by the way my family leaves things (or the wrappers) right where they are once they have finished using (or eating) them, there is a strong chance all of them could end up on an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive one day. Of course, this behavior could also result in me appearing on an episode of I (Almost) Got Away With It on another channel, simultaneously. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to this, as I would much rather land my own talk or cooking show or perhaps something in the vein of What Not To Wear. That would be too. much. fun. Honestly.

The second is…I have deep seeded road rage. Not just any road rage though. Mine is specifically triggered by elderly drivers. Yes, I know I am headed straight for Hell in a fast moving vehicle for saying this, but it’s true. Seriously.  The laws mandate that you have to take a driving/road test to get a license when you turn 16 in this country, so why not pass a law stating you have to take one every year once you reach, say, 70 years old, in order to keep your license? Seems logical to me, because let’s face it…some people, no matter how sweet they are in their geriatric stage, simply should not be driving. Period. Personally, I plan on turning my license in once I am rich enough to hire a driver, so I will not cause undue stress to those younger than I on the roads I may travel in my old age. My mama always loved Driving Miss Daisy, so I believe she would approve of my decision.

Third thing. I fall into a funk when The Man is between film projects. Unfortunately, the last 8 months have mostly been filled with ‘in-between’ time, resulting in my neglect of writing new posts for y’all to read. Go figure. The funk is not because of the loss of income, but because he morphs into an energy vampire who sucks the life right out of me when he is off work with a pair of idle hands. Bless his bones, I love him more than life itself, but The Man needs hobbies…or friends…or a love of social networking for hours on end…or DIY projects. Or all of the above. Well, maybe not DIY projects. That could be bad. But I digress. On a typical day off, he wakes up, takes a shower, makes any work related calls he needs to, and then proceeds to wreck the flow of things in my routine by hovering over me asking what I’m doing. Mind you, I said ‘hovering’ not helping. Then he alternates between pacing back and forth through the house, sitting on the sofa watching sports, or lounging out by the pool listening to Howard Stern. After this, he usually scavenges around the kitchen, and asks me what there is to eat. Which drives me bat-shit crazy, because inevitably it invokes feelings of guilt in me, and I end up halting whatever activity I am engaged in to make food for him. Once he tires of these activities, he follows me around as I gather laundry, straighten up rooms, make beds, etc….trying to take my clothes off. Oh yes. This really happens. I have even talked about it before. Right here.

There once was a time when I bitched and moaned about being a ‘mixer’s widow’, spending my days with 3 little ones and very little adult interaction, because he was always working, and never home. Let it now be known to the Universe: He has more than compensated for all those years by being up my ass the past one, so take him back…please! Thanks in advance, His wife 🙂

Last thing. I miss y’all when I don’t write. So I pledge to try to stay focused, while thwarting advances from The Man and entertaining children who will be out of school for summer break.

On Thursday.

Not that I’m dreading it or anything….

DAY-UM. What a week.

YEEEEESSSSSS!

YEEEEESSSSSS!

My apologies for being away so long, but…

DAY-UM! I’ve had a week. Let’s recap, shall we?

Last Saturday started with CAKE FOR BREAKFAST, in honor of Sweet Pea’s 6th birthday. Would love to take credit for this genius tradition, but all the credit goes to my high school friend Sarah and her sweet family. Seemed like such a fantastic way to start a birthday, that we hijacked it from them. We’ve been at it for 2 full years now 🙂 Every birthday starts with cake. Even the ones that fall on school days. The Beans’ teachers just love me for this I bet. After cake and presents, we headed out to spend a gift card she received and to lunch at her favorite chain restaurant, California Pizza Kitchen, where I was compelled to perform a stupid human trick I learned in college while watching Mr. Wizard, when I should have been studying for finals. It involves counter-balancing two forks atop two toothpicks stuck in a salt shaker. More than a few dollars have been made by hustling unsuspecting people guys at bars who swear it can’t be done. Whatever, suckers. Not only can it be done, my daughters marvel at my ability to do it, thus earning me a spot in the “Cool Mom Hall of Fame”.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

After lunch, the family headed downtown to the Flower Mart to gather the necessary supplies for this…

A gift of flowers for my MIL

A gift of flowers for my MIL

I must admit, I am beginning to really enjoy this new creative outlet I’ve stumbled upon with floral artistry. You might say it’s growing on me. LOL. Check out my first crack at it here. Both arrangements were well received. Thank God. As both were for very important occasions 🙂

The rest of Saturday went off without a hitch. It wasn’t until Sunday morning–Mother’s Day–when things got a bit chaotic. What? You aren’t surprised that MD in my house would be crazy? Yeah. Me either. Actually though, ITCHY is a better description.

After being awakened by the smell of a vanilla latte fresh from Starbucks delivered to my bedside, I was showered with homemade cards and presents, followed by hugs from all three girls who’d slept, snuggled around me, in my bed, all night long. This is an important detail to remember, because the next thing I did was discover that Sweet Pea had head lice, while washing her very long, blonde hair. On Mother’s Day.

I plan. God laughs; deciding to remind me what being a mama is really all about: exterminating unwelcome pests that have invaded my special day by hitching a ride from school, hanging on to the strands of my child’s hair. WTF? Adding insult to injury, it’s the second time since November, which was the first time EVER. For nine years we escaped, and then BAM…it finally happened. We got inducted into The Lice Club. I went ballistic. Not only did I treat all 3 small heads of hair in the house, spending a minimum of 3 hours sectioning/combing with the fine-toothed metal comb until their scalps were raw, I also replaced all the pillows, brushes, and hair accessories. I opted for the toxic shit called RID over the “natural remedies” because I wanted the pesky little fuckers dead, and couldn’t be sure that something eco-friendly would indeed do the trick. In addition, I sprayed down the sofas and mattresses, put the cushions out in the sun for 24 hours, bathed our dogs in medicated shampoo, and bagged up every stuffed animal they had ever touched for two whole weeks. Oh, did I forget to mention I also stripped all the linens from every bed and washed them along with The Beans’ backpacks on the sanitary cycle which uses extra hot water and takes 2 hours? Yep. Did that. Treated hubby and myself as well. To say I went off the rails the first time, is an understatement. The Man was ready to divorce me. Or kill me. Or both. Seriously.

Can you envision the horrified look on his face when I screamed “Mother Effer!! Sweet Pea has head lice again!” at an ear-splitting volume from the shower Sunday morning? Mother’s Day 2012 did not get off to a very promising start. And considering last year’s tragedy, I am now entertaining thoughts of dumping it from our slate of celebrations altogether.

Suffice to say, I repeated the eradication scenario and we were again, lice-free by Monday morning. However, I notified the school and kept Butter Bean and Sweet Pea home until their classes had been checked by the school nurse. Miraculously, Sugar Bean didn’t have it, so she went back on Monday. When Tuesday morning rolled around, imagine my surprise to see the same family who had it last time waiting to be head-checked in the school office again. Coincidence? Yeah, right. My girls never had it until being in class with this sibling pair. One in Kinder, the other in second grade. It was all I could do not to punch their mama square in the face, right there in front of the principal. Was my anger misplaced? Maybe. Am I headed to Hell in a chartered hand-basket? Probably. But so-help-me-God, nothing irritates me more than mamas who clearly don’t take the due diligence necessary to prevent recurrent lice on the heads of their young, who inevitably transmit the parasites to everyone who comes in contact with them at school. Feral children! Even chimpanzees “nit-pick” and groom their offspring. And before you go all “well maybe your kids were responsible”–don’t. Because the first time it happened, I assumed The Beans were the source, as they had just begun gymnastics at a new facility. However, if you read the post just before this one, you’ll know they haven’t been to the gym in 3 weeks. Nor have they had any playdates. So there. Honestly, as expensive as it is to treat the pests—$200 minimum, each time, when you have girls with long hair, because it’s not like you can shave their heads and start over, you know—you would think that alone would be motivation enough for periodic checks throughout the school year. Since mine got it in November, I have checked on a weekly basis. That’s how I found it the second time!! Maybe I should send her a bill for the cost of treatment. Whaddaya think?

Okay. Okay. I’ll get off my soapbox, because the rest of Mother’s Day was very pleasant, spent relaxing at a bbq at the home of the wonderful lady responsible for laboring The Man into the world and raising him to be the awesome hunk he is. So there. All was not lost to the freaking lice.

Let’s cut to Wednesday. Open House at school. Sugar Bean had to present her country report, complete with a food item representative of her chosen land. She studied New Zealand, which was fantastic considering one of my dear friends lives there and was able to provide us with lots of information, including the idea for me to make a Pavlova Cake. Since I only bake once a year…rum cakes at Christmas time… it was a bit daunting. All turned out fine and dandy, with this as the finished dessert:

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

Apparently it was tasty. The plate was literally scraped clean. I plan to make another for the family soon, so I can see what all the devouring was about 🙂

In addition to Sugar Bean’s country report, Butter Bean  had to do a project for display based on a Caldecott Award Winning book. She chose “I Know an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly”. Together, we made this dyorama, which I thought would surely win an award for my precious second-grader. It didn’t. A lap-top made out of paper won. I’m not bitter. Promise.

Anyway, judge for yourself.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don't tell anybody.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don’t tell anybody.

Yesterday was rather unremarkable stacked up against the early part of the week. In the morning, I went to be fitted for my bridesmaid’s dress which I will be wearing at the wedding of my niece, Meaghan, in September. Took The Beans for fro-yo after school, like usual. Two Thursdays ago, this very funny thing happened on the way to fro-yo, which, ironically is also about Meaghan. I also did some laundry. Gained some new Twitter followers. No unexpected surprises though. In fact, the only thing I can remember about it is that Lexi died on the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. That really sucked. I was mad…for about 10 minutes. Then I turned off the tv and went to sleep. Nothing like when I found out GCB got cancelled. Loved that dang show! As Nicole Richie Tweeted earlier in the week, “We need to figure out who needs to bone who to keep GCB on the air.” Right on, girl. RIGHT ON!

And now it’s Friday. Well, actually Saturday. Which means I need to get my ass in bed, because boy do I have a helluva weekend full of events planned for the family, starting at 10 am tomorrow morning, and carrying straight through until 6pm Sunday evening.

Yes, there will be posts. And pictures.

Probably not ’til Monday though.

Nite y’all 🙂

Flip, flop, and then…just STOP?

So.

I have been avoiding this topic. When I think about it, it really upsets me. For lots of reasons. Mainly because it made The Beans very sad, and that alone makes me feel like a failure as a parent. One who is powerless to fix the problem this time. And I’m a fixer, which adds salt to an already infected wound. Throw in that my Sugar Bean wrote this, not too long ago, and I am all sorts of a hot mess at the moment. Minus the hot part.

All three of The Beans are gifted gymnasts. I know, I know. Everyone thinks their kid is the best at what they do. This is different though. They have a raw, God-given ability for this sport. Seriously. Anyone who has seen them at their meets agrees. Their coaches agree. Total strangers agree. I’ve had parents ask what kind of super-food I feed them. LOL. They are the gymnastic equivalent to a trio of piano prodigies.

It started when Sugar Bean was 4 years old. Thinking it would be something fun for her, I took her in for an evaluation at a popular, gymnastics school. After exhibiting super-human strength by zipping up the rope and ringing the bell mounted on a beam at the ceiling of the gym…she landed in the preschool advanced class, and I was asked if I was ready for the world of competitive gymnastics, because my little one was, “freakishly strong and coordinated, showing real promise in the sport”. “Bring. It. On.” I said. For 3 years she trained, 4 days a week, alternating team classes with private lessons, etc. By age 7, she was performing skills that girls much older than her had not mastered. Her technical ability far exceeded her psychological understanding of it, and how very gifted she was. The older girls on her team were mean to her. She burnt out fast, and getting her to the gym became all about the meltdown. It was a distraction for her teammates, and The Man flat refused to take her. Ever. Despite the fact that I was very pregnant with #2. Too much for him to handle. She asked to quit. We had no choice but to allow it. I figured the best thing to do was bide our time and see if she rekindled her excitement and passion for it sometime in the future.

She did.

Just before her birthday last year, she announced she wanted to return to the sport. A family member overheard this, and offered to be the financial benefactor, as The Man and I just haven’t been in the place to allow anything like that in the past few years. After some discussion, we agreed to let this happen, and thanked them profusely. Of course, now we have two more daughters, who decided they also wanted to give it a whirl. Asked if that was okay? No problem. Everyone could participate 🙂 Happy dances all around.

We found a wonderful facility, with outstanding and nurturing coaches and staff. Each of the girls started class in September. A month in, the older girls were asked to join the team. The Oldest was placed in Level 4, where she had been when she quit. Amazing, considering she had been on hiatus from the sport for five years. Butter Bean landed in Level 3, after only 6 training sessions…EVER. Sweet Pea was placed in the “Hot Shots” which is the class just before Pre-team. ALL THIS HAPPENED WITHIN A MONTH. Soon, everyone was training several days a week, and competing in meets on weekends. At every meet, their scores would soar higher and higher in each event. It was clear, they were blessed with skill for gymnastics. ALL OF THEM. And they beamed with excitement and pride after every competition. Scores aside, they were happy, which made me happy.

Flashback to 10 days ago. The day before this happened.

I got the heartbreaking news they would no longer be able to continue their training due to financial reasons. All of a sudden. Dreams dashed. While I understand completely, I am shattered. It’s an expensive sport, and we simply can’t shoulder the financial commitment at this time. Eventually, perhaps, but not at the moment. Since it was the beginning of the billing cycle, I called the gym to let them know The Beans would not be returning until further notice. Their coaches were shocked, to say the least. For 8 months now, the gym has been our family’s second home. We were there at least 10 hours a week. Most of my blog posts have been written via laptop from the lobby of the gym. Seriously.

Their main coach said “This is the worst afternoon of my life. Let’s talk about this. Let me see if I can speak to the board and find a solution, some sort of help. Would you and your husband be willing to help with activities and such in exchange for some tuition assistance? The loss of your girls to this team, and your family to this facility would just be too much. They love it here, are having fun, and we love your family. There has to be something that can be done.”YES! Of course we will do whatever it takes to keep them training. We just can’t shuck out $800 a month in tuition, in addition to meet fees, equipment expenses, etc.” I replied. He said he would let me know.

I’m still waiting….but hopeful.

Meanwhile, the most devastating part is we made a commitment, and can’t ful-fill it. They have missed a whole week of training so far, and were supposed to compete again in a week. As a family, we’ve let the team and the gym down. As parents, we have let our daughters down. Epic parenting fail #12,832.

How do I handle this? Literally, and psychologically. Have any of you ever run into something similar? There has to be a way, because there is definitely a will here.

If I hear something, I’ll post an update. Promise.

 

 

Sisters hugging it out before a meet.

Sisters hugging it out before a meet.

 

Our first family loss :-(

Leroi, the day he joined our family, at 16 weeks old.

Leroi, the day he joined our family, at 16 weeks old.

A year has come and gone. Flown by, in fact.

Today marks the second of two very sad anniversaries. The first was April 27, a devastating day in 2011 that changed the lives of many friends and family members as well as so many others back home in Alabama. You can read about that here.  Now I am looking square upon the anniversary of a less destructive, yet equally painful day. The day we bid farewell to our beloved, furry family member, Leroi.

Leroi became part of our family in May 2005, after I found a photo of him online and decided I had to have him! Off I went to a place called Puppy Playground, located in the eastern part of Los Angeles. Shortly, I returned home with him, and I must say, at a tender 16 weeks old, he was one of the cutest puppies I had ever seen, in both looks and personality! So adorable in fact, his picture was chosen to be among a group of photos featured in the credits for the Disney film “Shaggy Dog”. The Man happened to be working on that project when we got him, and showed off his picture. That’s how he got the gig…lol 🙂 If you haven’t seen it, you should. And look for Leroi at the end. It’s the same picture shown above. He would surely wag his tail at that!!

So. The story of his name. Kind of a no-brainer, for those who know me best and are aware of the things I am passionate about. He was named for the late LeRoi Moore, the former saxophonist for the Dave Matthews Band. You see, the meaning of the name Leroy is “king”, and his breed is just that: Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Also rather ironic, is that our Leroi’s last home on earth was on Moore Street, where our family moved a year ago.

Although we had 2 other precious doggies when we got Leroi, he was quite special. Rarely did he bark, and he never met a stranger. Whenever someone came to the house, he would wag his entire body with excitement! Our cue to let him out to potty was the sound of his wagging tail banging against the water cooler beside the door, so loudly you couldn’t ignore it. Oh how I miss that sound! A very smart doggie indeed, but somehow I could never teach him to fetch like our little miniature Dachshund, Edie. But I digress. Leroi was very sick for the last years of his life. Almost 4 years ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes, as the result of obesity. Hard to keep scraps away from the furry friends when toddlers are in charge of food and delight in sharing when you aren’t looking. Unfortunately, Leroi was more than willing to share in their joy of giving, and the overindulgence in snacks caused a severe case of pancreatitis, and thus, diabetes. When he fell ill, we rushed to our vet, giving her instructions to do whatever was necessary to save him, regardless of the cost. He was one of our children…just a canine one. At only 3 years old, he deserved a chance. We prayed to God, a miracle was granted, and he pulled through. After two shots a day for another 3 years, the disease got the best of him, taking its toll on his system, causing him to be 100% blind and to have a heart attack. Strange how very similar animals and humans react to the same diseases over a span of time.

He got very sick in the midst of my massive relief effort for the Alabama tornado victims. Again, we rushed him to the vet, where he spent 2 full days trying to recover. They stabilized him enough so he could come home, but the outlook was grim and we were told it would only be a matter of time before his body gave out. The Man and I agreed we would not be selfish when we knew it what had to be done. He would not suffer. The time came on Mother’s Day of last year. Of all days! Rather ironic, considering he had been my Mother’s Day present (to myself) 6 years earlier. It was an extremely challenging decision and an emotional time. The Girls were very sad and crying, but were able to say goodbye which was important, it being the first time they had been through the loss of a pet. I was beyond consolation. My friends, Kim and Ray drove me and Leroi to the vet, where I held him as the staff helped him pass into Heaven. He went peacefully with no resistance. He wagged his tail just a bit and drew in his last breath as I cradled his head, whispering “We love you” repeatedly. It was time, and he let me know it was okay to let him go. The only thing I can compare it to is being in the room with Mama when she passed. As she took her last breath, with her eyes closed, she exhaled with a big smile on her face. She was with Daddy, and wanted us to know. Peaceful, loving closure to a very full life. All dogs go to Heaven, so I have no doubt that Leroi…and now Lester…are with my parents.

We decided to have a private cremation and to keep his ashes until we know where we would like him to rest eternally. I made a call to Very Important Pet Mortuary in Venice, California. Carol is the sweet lady I spoke to about the arrangements. During the course of the call, she inquired about my Southern accent and asked where I was from. When I said Alabama, she asked if my family was okay. I told her yes, and spoke of my relief efforts through the newly formed cause, California for Alabama, and how the timing of it all was just so tragic and difficult. With that, she said she would like to help the cause by donating her services. In turn, I would donate the fee to the relief efforts. Of course, I agreed, and am happy to say that in loving memory of Leroi, who only knew love and companionship, the relief resources were increased a little. In life, when it rains it pours, both good and bad, but most often from storm clouds, right?

I’m sure his tail is banging against the water cooler in Heaven, knowing that he helped too 🙂

xo,

N

Leroi. January 16, 2005 ~ May 8, 2011

Leroi. January 16, 2005 ~ May 8, 2011

%d bloggers like this: