Fashion-stress…at 6?

Yes. It's just like that.

Yes. It’s just like that.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have an ongoing hostage situation at our house. The victims are the clothes in Sweet Pea’s closet. Every school day morning, (and usually on Sunday before church) after I rouse her from the comfort of her warm and cozy bed, the scene goes something like this:

Me: Hey Sweet Pea…time to wake up and get ready for school. 

SP: (in a whiny voice, with pouty face) But I’m tiiiiiiired. 

Me: I know, but it’s a bit after 7, and you have to get up and get dressed. 

SP: (sitting up now, arms folded) I don’t care about school. 

Me: You love school. Now let’s get up and get dressed, so we aren’t late. Again. 

She gets up, and I assume…or rather hope…this day will be different.

At this point, I inevitably have to walk out of the room to turn on the lights above the aquariums housing our bearded dragons and make sure Butter Bean is eating breakfast, since she has gotten up immediately after waking, chosen an outfit, dressed herself, put on her shoes, AND brushed her own hair, all within 20 minutes….without uttering a word. Sugar Bean, of course, has been in the bathroom the entire time. She’s 13. Need I say more?

It’s now 7:25 am, and I shout from the kitchen, “Hey, Sweet Pea, how’s it going in there? Are you dressed yet?” 

First there is no answer. Then, I hear faint whimpering, and sense the onset of what is now referred to in our home as ‘The Morning Meltdown’, so I head back into the bedroom to find Sweet Pea sitting on the floor, wearing nothing but her underwear. Believe it or not, this IS progress. I mean, she’s managed to take her pajamas off. Resisting the urge to raise my voice and demand that she just put on some @#$%-ing clothes, I softly say ” What’s wrong?”  Cue the tears. “I’m cold, and don’t know what to wear,” she replies.  So, I suggest an outfit, and she turns it down flat. Three more rejected outfits later, with the clock ticking like a bomb and my patience waning, she finally breaks down completely and shoots off these one-liners, becoming increasingly more agitated with each one:

“I can’t get dressed because I don’t know what the weather is going to be like.”In her defense, this is a problem, considering the weather where we live seems to be controlled at the hands of a rogue Mother Nature based on her menopausal thermostat…40 degrees one day, 85 the next. Clearly, she needs meds. STAT.

“You give me too many choices.” -Just trying to get the ball rolling. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I thought an array of cute outfits would help. Clearly, I don’t know crap.

“I wore that already.” – Whom does she think she is, a Kardashian? Since I sometimes wear the same black yoga pants multiple days in a row, I don’t know where in the heck she’s gotten the idea she can’t repeat outfits. Seriously.

“I don’t have any shoes to match that.” – Simply untrue. Between the pairs bought specifically for her, and the ones handed down from Butter Bean, the kid has an obscene amount of shoes.

“Nobody helps me in the mornings.” A blatant lie, considering I spend 95% of the time in the mornings at her side, trying to thwart this shit show. Obviously it’s a last-ditch effort for sympathy and a tactic for running down the clock.

And my personal favorite…..“YOU DON’T LIKE ME, OR WANT ME AS A CHILD!!!!”  – Ludicrous. I adore this child to pieces. Even when she acts like a dictator, reigning over her closet, day after day.

The only thing I can do in response to this last one, is….well…burst out laughing. Every single time. Obviously this does nothing to help the now heated negotiations, which I can only imagine resemble those with a shrewd, and determined terrorist.  Generally, I resolve to abandon the talks and exit the room. A few minutes later, she’ll emerge dressed in something, and by that time, I couldn’t care less what it is, because Sugar Bean is demanding to leave so she won’t be late, Butter Bean is already in the car waiting, and I still have to pull Sweet Pea’s hair into a ponytail and braid it, so we can avoid falling victim to the head lice which have infiltrated our school again, as that would surely put me in the dirt for good. It almost did last time. Read about that here, if you dare.

Keeping my fingers crossed, in hopes this is a phase, and she’ll be done with it sooner rather than later. Because, so help me God, if her fashion stress is this bad at 6, I’m certainly doomed when she hits her teens.

Say a prayer for me, will ya?

 

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Crossroads

Beautiful, isn’t it? (image credit goes to “at fifty-three dot-com)

In my mind, I am standing right smack in the middle of those trees. It’s cold and eerily quiet, and I am barefoot in the dirt. Surrounded by tall living creatures with branches I wish were arms, extending into hands with fingers I beg to point me in the right direction. That’s not how it’s going to play out though. You know it. I know it. We all know it. 

Recently my thoughts are drifting back to the day I left Alabama, and drove out West. I’d planned it for a couple of weeks, and packed the night before. Said all my goodbyes on the way out-of-town, and pulled onto the Interstate at 11:45 am on June 30, 1996.  Ironically, Tracy Chapman was singing “Gimme one reason to stay here….and I’ll turn right back around”  on the radio. Go figure. No magical signs appeared, and nobody came running after me, so I kept driving. Exactly 2 days later, almost to the minute, I arrived at my destination in the San Fernando Valley.

My new life. How exciting, right? I was scared shitless, but I’d made up my mind, and was determined to make the most of this adventure. I’ve been here ever since. That should tell you something: I’m stubborn. Things haven’t gone exactly as planned, and I’ve had my share of disappointments alongside many accolades and accomplishments. Peaks and valleys. Hills and canyons. Kind of the landscape of California. And when you move to the City of Angels, you learn quickly, it has a sink or swim mentality, and it’s up to you to dodge the sharks. So far, I’ve been lucky….but then again, I don’t get into the ocean very often….lol.

When I drove out, I brought several boxes with me. Figuratively, and literally. My literal boxes contained keepsakes, clothes and books. My figurative box was full of creativity and talents…my trinket box dancing, acting, writing, sewing, teaching, etc. Some of them are still evolving and becoming realized and I’ve been here 16 years.  In one way or another, I use all of my creative skills every day. Teaching my daughters how to navigate life, writing this blog, dancing whenever the fuck I want, sewing the quilt of my existence, and acting like I have it altogether. But acting is a deceptive trade, and I am facing a cross-roads…..which means I clearly do not have it altogether. Asking for guidance is never comfortable for me. Asking for help throws me completely for a loop. I’d love to do both, but I don’t know which tree to turn to, or if it will be the right one. This I do know….

One path is safer than the others. One path is tricky and full of obstacles. One path flat-out sucks. One path is enchanted, but long and uncertain. 

Oh, and did I mention I have a Sugar bean, a Butter bean and a Sweet Pea in my knapsack? Yeah. And I have to make sure they are watered and fed, so they may grow along the way. I have to chart a course sooner rather than later, or else the trees are going to turn in on me, blocking all the paths in every direction, and I won’t be able to see the forrest…for the trees.

Maybe I need a break. Like this one so I can clear my head before I drop to my knees and beg God to show me what to do.

Right now, I’m just going to dance it out.

 

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Here I go…dreaming again.

Found this image on www.annawrites.com. Isn’t it cool?

Welcome to Episode 2 of “Theme Thursday” where talented ladies (and a guy too!) join forces to bombard you with more entertaining, random thoughts.  This week we are pondering a ‘what if’ scenario of sorts, discussing the topic of…

                                              MY DREAM JOB

This post may come as a complete shock to some, because my dream job is vastly different from the 20 or so I juggle on a daily basis within the realm of the hardest one I’ve ever held…motherhood.  What? You thought my career aspirations evaporated the moment The Oldest Girl came squirming out of my hoo-ha? Uhh….no. While it’s true that I do love it, and I wouldn’t trade anything for my precious girls, motherhood was not my idea of the perfect career path when it happened all of a sudden. Yes. I said it….all of a sudden. Celebrity style. Cart before the horse. You get the point, right?

Anyway….

Now you are probably wondering what in the holy hell it is that I would rather be doing. First you should know that I am a performer at heart, have a passion for entertaining, and believe there simply is no better high than getting up on stage and delivering a flawless work of cinematic or theatrical genius that leaves the audience feeling as though you changed their lives. I scholar-shipped my way through college, and graduated with degrees in Dance and English (shocker, right?). Then moved to Los Angeles, promptly after graduation….following a dream boy. All this being said…there are a couple of jobs I covet. To be fair though, I’m going to break them into two categories: Pre-children and Post-children. Because of course, not all jobs are conducive to family life.

The job I would love to bring home the bacon with if I didn’t have The Girls is forensic investigator/medical examiner. Yep. Working with crime and dead people. I’ve always been fascinated with medicine, and anyone that knows me agrees…if you need dirt on someone, I’m better than the freaking FBI and CIA combined at finding it. And I won’t elaborate the diabolic mind I possess when coming up with ingenious ways to use it against them. Funny…my tweenager probably thinks she’ll be able to get away with shit someday. This makes me smile. Because not only is she wrong, she no doubt is grossly underestimating how creative punishment will be for trying 🙂 But I’m getting off track here. I genuinely LOVE solving problems. My brain is creative and logical, but I think outside the box too. However, I don’t have much tolerance for bullshit and defiance, which would make working with live patients quite difficult….because they talk back, and often don’t follow orders. Kind of like children. So there. Oh, and you should know….when The Middle Girl was 5 months old, I decided to take a CSI course at one of the UC campuses. Aced it.

As for the job I would like to have need now that I have reproduced…that would be:

HEIRESS TO A FORTUNE

Because let’s face it….it takes a village and a bulging wallet to raise kids these days, and this mama needs a full-on staff of professionals to take care of everything else so she can blog, Facebook and Tweet attend to the young ‘uns properly. Not to mention the joy it would bring me to be able to grab the family and take to the road following the Dave Matthews Band, camping out along the way like a tribe of hippies. You may be laughing, but you secretly agree. Maybe your DMB is some other band, but come on, you know it would be crazy fun. Admit it. I’ll keep it between us….Promise.

All kidding aside though, I have a pretty good gig and wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m a wife, a mommy, a sister, a friend, a voice-over actress, an artist and a volunteer. Oh, and literally at the end of the day.….I write, and it entertains people. When I opened the time capsule I put together my senior year in high school at my 10 year reunion…um ten years ago….I hadn’t said anything about my future self being a writer. But sometimes the best things in life are its surprises 🙂

Now, if I can just figure out how to monetize all that in a big way…..

Okay, now you know my dream jobs. Go find out what my bloggy family has to say about theirs:

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 🙂

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