Blog Vomit

Wow, I just realized that I didn't blog during the entire month of February. I know it's a short month, but still. Bad me. Between birthday, Valentine's, family visits, Uppercase Living, and the normal day to day stuff that comes with a busy household (not to mention the OctoMom), it seems my blog got neglected. Not that anyone noticed (other than my mom).

So here's a quick rundown to catch you up. I'll spare you the promises of more frequent blogging; we both know that's a crapshoot. If it makes you feel better, know that I miss this and if I thought anyone was reading it, I'd feel awfully guilty.

• My baby turned 3. I can't believe it, but the potty training battles assure me that it's true. We had a Spongebob Squarepants party complete with kelp shakes and Krabby Patties. Photos to come. Someday.
• I'm now in the planning stages of a Mario Kart party. It seems that my days of sparkly princess parties are behind me. Boo!
• Speaking of birthdays, Ray turned 40. He seems to have survived it! Sadly, there was no big trip or party (Thanks, Economy) but we had a nice celebration and he's gotten over the trauma.
• Softball season is underway. Softball practice is at the exact same time as dance. This sucks. Softball doesn't. It's fun to be back in the bleachers, watching the girls who have improved so much since last year, and the younger ones just starting out. I love that Julia loves this stuff so much. The reality is that the practices and games are quite a pain to manage, but it's totally worth it.
• I backed my minivan into a parked truck yesterday and smashed a taillight. SO ANNOYED.
• The bad news: my old piece of crap cell phone finally died. The good news: I got a new BlackBerry Storm. The bad news: I haven't figured out all its idiosyncrasies yet. Like why I only get some of my email. I'm fearful that this will warrant a call to the call center in Bangladesh or the Philippines.
• I expect Ray to have a new job by the beginning of next week. Of course, this is wonderful news and it'll be nice to have an income again. But it's been SO nice having him around these last few months. The kids and I have loved it. The new job will be close to home (except for when he's traveling) and I expect it to be good for our family in the long run. It'll be a while before we dig out from under the financial impact of his being out of work but we'll be fine eventually. I'm proud of us for not getting on each other's nerves (much) the entire time he was home and am already trying to figure out how to minimize his office time and maximize our family time.
• UL continues to be fun and rewarding. I am excited to have a new team member who also happens to be a friend. Great products and great promotions have made this a good time to be in this business.

There you have it. I would love to post some pictures of the Spongebob Party here soon. If nothing else, it'll maybe discourage some poor misdirected mom from endeavoring to punch enough holes out of yellow cardstock to make it look like a sponge. And you wonder why I haven't been blogging?

From Turkeys to Santa

It's been a while, loyal readers. Life gets busy, you know? So, what's been going on since I blogged you last? Julia got glasses: big trauma that has turned into a good thing. I'm proud of her, and proud of how we handled it. Ethan is Ethan. He's all about play dates, Lego, and staying up 2 hours after he's in bed and playing the dark. Bunch just gets better and better. He's figured out how to give kisses. But he's sneaky and gutsy and thinks he's one of the big kids.

It seems like Halloween was just yesterday, and now here we are, less than 3 weeks from Christmas. Thanksgiving was great. Once again, my cousin Sissy hosted and I had so much fun watching the kids play with their cousins (and cousins-in-law). There was all kinds of food, to which I happily contributed. Only problem with not hosting Thanksgiving is that you don't really get to control leftovers (plus there were NO leftover sweet potatoes and Julia has been waiting for them since last Christmas), so we had Thanksgiving again last night, with Ray's mom, who is here visiting. I made my first ever real turkey breast and it came out awesome. I almost think a monkey could make it but I don't want to disparage my own turkey-roasting skills. Plus: holy crap. Costco mashed potatoes. They must be from the gods.

Oh yeah, the other thing that happened last month was that my poor husband became one of the half-million plus Americans who lost their job. The week before Thanksgiving. Happy Holidays to us. After the requisite anger, cussing, and a few days of mopiness, we're back in the holiday spirit. Maybe it's all the meds I'm downing daily for this godawful cold-turned-sinus-mess-plus-incessant-back-agony-from-all-the-nights-spent-coughing-on-the-couch (not to mention the mind altering drugs humming in the background) combined with the persistent sleep deprivation, but I'm not freaking out. I wasn't thrilled with Ray's previous work situation. Besides, we'd known for a while that this layoff might happen. He was working for a land developer. Duh. So, I'm confident that something much better is in the works. In the mean time, it's great to have Ray home, especially while I've been sick. The kids are in heaven; I'm already worried about how sad they'll be when he goes back to work.

Tonight we went Chrismukah shopping while the kids stayed with Grandma Dooley. We had a great time! It's not about how much we spent. Sure, I love buying expensive gifts for friends and family. I am a shopper at heart, after all. But it's also fun to get creative, find bargains and make our budget work. It reminds me of Christmas shopping in college. But I also know that we are so lucky, so blessed. It's not about the job, the income, or any of that. I love this time of year and an uncertain financial situation isn't going to change that. So our halls are decked, we've got visions of latkes in our heads and it's time to be jolly. We're going to enjoy this bonus family time and look forward to the next good thing. It's all good.

Belated Boo!

Halloween has come and gone and while I wasn't all that much in the spirit at first, I managed to get into it by the end of trick or treating. Here are some photos for your enjoyment:

Julia, in her very original Purple Pelicans uniform, er, costume.

Halloween at Kindergarten never gets old.

Never has one Thomas costume been such an enormous value. 3rd Halloween in combat and still going strong.
Dr. Jones decided that his hat was too large and could only be fixed by wearing it in the other direction.

Hope everyone had a happy one!

Rants and Raves

Rave: My friend, Laura, who is always so nice and supportive.

Rant: People who can't be bothered to return a phone call (or 10).

Rave: The pediatric optician who finally found frames that Julia would concede to consider wearing.

Rant: Not having her on our vision plan. Ouch!

Rave: My new Uppercase Living website, and people who are as into the product as I am!

Rant: Not being able to choose what goes on my wall next!

Rave: Mommy group therapy.

Rave: Mommy wars.

Rave: It's finally fall! Hooray for changing leaves and Halloween decorations.

Rant: The 30 degree difference in temperature from the morning to the afternoon. How am I supposed to dress my kids?

Rave: The election is less than 3 weeks away...the campaigning is about to end.

Rant: I'm not overly thrilled with our choices and the one proposition I feel strongly about has a good chance of losing.

Rave: Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Pumpkin Cream Cheese muffins are back at Starbucks!

Rant: Still no drive-through Starbucks anywhere near here.

Rave: The Amazing Race. How cute was Phil's dad?

Rant: Desperate Housewives. I need No-Doz just to get through an episode.

Rave: Being back in Mommy & Me with Brady, a few nice moms and an awesome teacher.

Rant: Listening to "I go to school today?" a thousand times each day that we don't go to school.

Rave: Julia's soccer team is doing great, they made the playoffs, she scored a goal last week (!!!!) and Ethan finally seemed to get it together in his last game.

Rant: Too many of their games are scheduled simultaneously and I hate missing one. Plus his games are WAY TOO EARLY.

Rave: Sweet 3rd grade girls who hold hands and giggle and don't even know why.

Rant: Mean 3rd graders who shove, threaten and bully, and then break the rules knowing that the other kids are too scared to tell. It's too early for this stuff.

Fun Fall

I figured it was time for a good, mindless post about what we've been up to lately, not that it's particularly exciting.

• School is going great. Both kids have great teachers and love going. E still has a hard time getting up in the morning but he loves being a kindergartener. I absolutely love working in their classes. Kindergarten is way more fun than 3rd grade, however. I continue to be impressed with my kids' school and the teachers there. Educating children is a hard business to be in and I admire those who do it well despite countless challenges.
  
• Julia is turning back into a human being. I'm not talking perfection, but she has become noticeably more sweet, polite and responsible. The backtalk and arguing have decreased dramatically and she's much more pleasant to be with. I will remember this when she turns into a teenage troll.
  
• I think I've gotten my election ranting out of my system. There's nothing left to do but sit back and wait for Election Day. Is it too late to put Tina Fey on the ticket?
• Bunch and I are having a great time in Mommy & Me. Our teacher, who is a friend and was also Ethan's teacher, rocks. I love the time I get to spend in class with him, especially since it brings back so many memories of being there with Ethan three years ago. Brady was with us then too, but he was just a belly baby, raising hell from the inside.
  
• I'm busier than I would like with school activities, but I enjoy being involved with all the happenings at school. I like selling ads for our newsletter and raising money in that way. I like the school administration and staff knowing that I am around and involved in my children's school. I like having my younger kids practically grow up at our school. Brady is quite a hit with the office ladies who hug him and kiss him and give him chocolate. It's like having 3 extra grandmas.
• We are a soccer family and we love it. Between the two kids, we have 3 practices and two games each week. Both teams are coming along nicely, but they can both be so frustrating to watch. It is a big commitment for our whole family, and can be a big pain at times, especially when Bunch isn't cooperating. But this is so good for our kids. They are learning about trying hard and teamwork and listening and working for a common goal. And they're running their tails off and loving it. Ray is coaching Julia's team and refereeing for Ethan. We're both surprised by how much he's enjoying it. And I got to make puple, white, and black ribbon ponytail holders for the team. Soccer is a good thing.
  
• I'm having a great time with Uppercase Living. I've gotten a lot of exposure lately and am waiting for some of my prospects to start panning out. I have high, high hopes for this business, especially in the coming months.
  

Still with me? That's pretty much all that is going on here. Sounds mundane, but I actually like that now and then. I like my routines and I like the everyday things that make our lives feel cozy and safe. Maybe it's the fall weather that is (finally) starting to come around. But I'm feeling like I just want to hole up in my house with my family, light a cinnamon candle and make soup. Although I'm not a fan of the cold weather (such as it is in these parts) I'll begrudgingly trade in my flip flops for shoes-that-must-be-worn-with-socks if it means I get to make soup.

Thank you arbreed for the gorgeous photo which is proof that we really do get fall in southern California.

He Like to Move It Move It

We're pretty excited for Madagascar 2 to come out around these parts. So much so that Brady loves singing his favorite Madagascar song over and over and over. Come to think of it, he's not unlike King Julian in a lot of ways. They're both boisterous little bossy dictators who think they know everything, while those around them know better.

The Good, The Bad, The Odd

I hate not blogging for a long time. Stuff piles up and then I never get around to telling (all 3 of) you about it. Here's a quick run-down, with hopefully more to come someday soon:

The Good

• We went wine tasting a couple of weekends ago and had SUCH a great time. I'll definitely post about this soon!
• Ethan's dinosaur party was a great success and may someday be its own blog post. There were, ahem, quite a few kids but they had fun and I loved all the activity. Boys are a whole different breed when it comes to group-think, aren't they? I'm not quite mentally prepared.
• I got carded! I didn't have my kids with me and the waiter was wearing pretty thick glasses, but who cares?
• I'm going to see Bon Jovi & Daughtry tomorrow night and will also get to meet my good friend Jacquie IRL for the first time. Can't wait!!!
  
• My mom is sleeping over so I can do the above. She rocks.
  
• I registered Ethan for kindergarten and now must pray nightly that he won't end up with the mean teacher who yells.
  
• My first Uppercase Living open house is next week. I'm really excited...and nervous. But also really excited.
• Brady seems to be getting cuter by the minute. Come visit him. Or call him. He'll totally talk to you on the phone.
  
• Juji got her first hit and scored her first run in softball. I didn't think this would happen for another couple of seasons. Her team has won its last two games!
  

The Bad

• Passover starts next week and I have not done one thing to prepare.
  
• Julia's attitude is getting worse by the day. Is it me or is she completely psycho, going from sweetheart to complete pain instantaneously.
• I have wasted my entire evening playing games online.
• The Bruins broke my heart for the 3rd straight year, coming home empty-handed from the Final Four.
• Ray's work sucks right now. Period.
• My kids can mess my house up way faster than I can clean it.
  
• My asshole neighbor's asshole dog got out today and came nose-to-nose with poor Brady, who was terrified. I heard myself scream primaly to the neighbor to get his dog away, which he did. He did apologize, at which point it occurred to me that that was the first time he'd talked to me the entire YEAR we'd been living here. He needs to make sure that dog never ever gets near one of my kids again.
• Our friends who were going to Bon Jovi with us had to cancel, so I'm taking my sister and her friend. This isn't all bad, as now I can act like a much bigger dork at the concert and sing and dance to my heart's content. Ray will pretend not to know us.

The Odd

• I really did have some odds, but now can't remember any of them. Must be time for bed. If only I hadn't wasted my whole night online, I'd head straight to sleep without the mandatory pit stop in the kitchen to clean and make Julia's lunch. Damn internet.
  

What I Learned At the Wiggly Concert

My family's love of the Wiggles has been well documented here. Although they're no longer front-and-center favorites, all three kids still enjoy Wiggling fairly regularly, though they don't always admit to it. A few months ago, just as I was thinking how much my kids would like to see the Wiggles live, I received an email alerting me that they would be coming to LA. It's like the internet read my mind! We (actually, Grandma Goob. Thanks Goobie!) got the tickets and Saturday was Wiggle day. Who knew I would learn so much from one kids' concert? Lucky for you, I'm willing to share the knowledge:

• The Nokia Theatre at LA Live is a great place to see a concert. The whole complex will be awesome when it's finally built out. On the day that we were there, there were 2 Wiggles shows, a King's game and a Dodgers exhibition game at the Coliseum. It's really great to see Downtown LA growing this way. Go developers!

• If the music thing doesn't work out for the Wiggles, then they can always look into being aerobics instructors. Those guys have some serious stamina!
• There is seriously nothing cuter than a theater filled with preschoolers dressed in Pirate hats, Wiggles skivvies, and Dorothy tails....until those preschoolers start singing and dancing.
• When attending a Wiggly concert, it is proper form to bring roses for Dorothy and a bone for Wags.
• Some children, who are way too used to watching the Wiggles on TV, WOULD NOT turn away from the giant screen where the concert was being shown to the stage RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM to see the actual show live.
  
• My two year old must not be that smart.
• That one Wiggly dancer who is always way too excited on the TV show is just as "energetic" live.
  
• It really is possible to pay $6 for an Uncrustable, a juice box and a few apple slices. Ah, capitalism.
• That last remark makes me sound really old.
  
• Just because you are seven and a half years old, it does not mean that you cannot sit on your daddy's lap and sing along the entire show. It also does not mean that you will not be the first to ask. "Can we come back next year?"
• I can point my fingers and do the twist.
  
• If you want a t-shirt for your kid, get it when the lines are short before the show and don't wait. And just because you said you want a shirt, and don't have a ton of money on you, don't assume that someone else will offer to go buy the shirt.

• These guys really must love the kids to do this day in and day out. They were warm and sincere and just as you'd want them to be.
  
• Three adults to three children is a manageable ratio for a Wiggly concert.
• Snacks are essential.
• Just because there is a damn Wiggly concert going on 8 rows in front of you, and your (grand)parents purchased these tickets and dragged you and your siblings to the concert, it does not mean you will not fall asleep eating grapes on your grandma's lap.
• If you are two years old and your mom takes you to see the Wiggles and you finally turn around halfway through and notice the Wiggles and squeal "It's Giggo Mommy! It's Jeff," she will turn to mush, and forgive you for napping later and declare that you must be the cutest and most intelligent toddler in the whole place.
  
• A Wiggly concert is just slightly louder than Ethan.
• I'd do this again for and with my kids in a heartbeat. I know I had at least as much fun as they did.
• It's just not the same without Greg.

Spring Traditions

With blue skies (finally) and gorgeous weather, not to mention blossom-covered trees everywhere, spring has arrived at last. This point was brought home to me last Sunday, when my family participated a number of spring traditions all in one day.

Our day started out at a local Purim carnival. I love living in an area of the country where my Jewish kids have plenty of other Jewish kids around. When I lived in the Northwest, it was very isolating to not be part of a larger Jewish community. I either felt really lonely, or like an animal in the zoo as I was subjected to the fascination of several people who had never met a Jew before. So our trek to the carnival took all of 5 minutes and we played, bounced, jumped, rode a poor, sad pony and ran into lots of friends we knew.

From there we had lunch and headed to our former neighbors' home for an Easter bash. It never occurred to me just what a pretty holiday Easter can be. While the religious meaning of the holiday is completely lost on me, I love the pretty pastel colors, the flowers, the signs of spring everywhere and little kids dressed in pretty clothes running around in the sunshine. Besides, who doesn't like bunnies, especially the variety who bring chocolate. Our friends went all out: each child got his or her own half-dozen eggs to dye before heading out to hunt for 350 eggs! I think we adults had as much fun hiding them as the kids did searching for them. Brady LOVED sidewalk chalk and Julia and Ethan rode their sugar high well into the evening.

Just as the party started to wrap up, we headed home to get read for Julia's 3rd softball game of the season. Their coach says they are steadily improving. Their score has gone from 4-0, to 12-2, to 13-0. I don't see how allowing the opposing team to score more runs in each successive game is an improvement, but I'm not a math major. That's right friends, Julia plays for the Bad News Bears. The games are not only boring, but just bad. We have games each Saturday and Sunday, and Ray and I trade off going so as to not subject ourselves and the other spectators to Brady's incessant screams throughout the game. While it's quite an occasion when our pitcher manages to throw a strike (rather than pitching the ball behind the batter) there are small signs of progress. Besides, sitting outside watching a ball game definitely feels like spring. And the score isn't all that important, right? I know this because after every game Julia has asked us hopefully, "Did we win?"

Another spring occasion is upon us today with the celebration of Noruz (nowrooz), the Persian New Year. I wrote last year about how much I love celebrating a new year in the spring instead of in the middle of dark and gloomy winter. Being spoiled, lazy and overwhelmed with the rest of the chaos in my life, I've left the work to others this year. My sister made the traditional sabzi polo because she enjoys spending an entire day to make one pot of rice. More power to her. We will be celebrating at my parents' tomorrow night, and the eggs my kids dyed at the Easter party will be adorning Goobie's haft seen.

It occurs to me that I've gotten away with doing very little work for any of these holidays this year. No matter, I don't feel guilty. Someday I'll be the grandma or the hostess or not nuts and go all out. For now I'm happy to enjoy the fruits of others' labor, happily buy my carnival tickets and transport my family from one location to the next. However you celebrate, I hope your spring is lovely and full of sweets.


Many thanks to macieklew for his stunning photo. Check out his other work; you will not be disappointed.

Lucky

This is what lucky looks like:

And this is what lucky looks like the next morning:

I was going to write today about Brady's haircut yesterday. How he was so overdue for it and we were getting him spiffed up for his 2nd birthday party on Sunday. How his face looks so cute and little now that all that crazy hair is gone from all around it. How I hadn't seen or felt the baby-soft back of his neck in months. And how some kid spinning the chairs around in the hair salon had him laughing so hard that people kept coming in from other rooms to see what the baby was giggling about (I took a little video but can't get it out of my phone).

Instead, I'm posting what looks like a mug shot that was taken after a street fight. My poor baby tripped and fell last night, scraping his face against the edge of a train table. I heard the thud, followed by the scream, that makes every mother's stomach flip over, and ran upstairs to find him crying hysterically, screaming "Mommy" over and over again. The skin from his nose was stuck in his eyelashes and the tears from his left eye were tinged with blood. He was consoled after a while by Wubbzy, fruit snacks and every toy his brother and sister could bring him to make him happy. The quick dose of Motrin helped too.

Although our pediatrician advised us to bring him over in the morning, because of the proximity of the cut to his eye, I took him to pediatric urgent care last night. The doctor there was very good with him and assured me that all looks well. Although his nose looks busted up, there's nothing more serious than an abrasion and some swelling. Similarly, his eye is just scraped up on the outside but his vision isn't affected. By the time we left, he was schmoozing his way out the door and making the ladies giggle over his cuteness.

Our little Bunch got very, very lucky last night and so did we. I'm trying not to think about how bad this episode could have been if he'd hurt his actual eye. I'm so grateful that our baby boy is ok, and we'll be celebrating his birthday with him healthy, if a little bruised up. I'm also grateful that we have such good resources in our community; it took the pediatrician less than 15 minutes to return my call and the urgent care facility was exactly what we needed in this situation. Like I said, we are very, very, very lucky.


If you haven't voted in my poll yet, you still have time. Speak up and let your voice be heard!

A Tiny Little Project

Posting the invitation for Brady's 2nd birthday party (when did that happen?!) here makes me realize how plain and simple it really is. There's a fine line between understated and plain, and I think this is the latter. Never mind, though. It's done and out and it has Mickey on it. And ribbon.
In case anyone is wondering, the font is called Minnie.

If anyone has some great ideas for a Mickey Mouse party for kids of various ages, post away. We'll be decorating Mickey cookies, and Mickey ears. There will be Mickey coloring pages. And a Mickey pinata. I think that should be enough, don't you?

My next project will be dinosaur invitations for Ethan's party in April. I'll post when they are done.

Leaving Lost Vegas

You know when you're in Las Vegas or some other adults-only destination, and you see a family loaded down with a bunch of little kids and strollers and diaper bags and all that goes with them? And you think to yourself (or in my case, sneer out loud), "What kind of complete idiot would bring small children to Las Vegas?" Well, as it turns out, I would be just the kind.

And you know how Las Vegas is now supposed to be hip and trendy and cool and high-end and even, dare I say, classy? Well, apparently the Imperial Palace was stuck in 1981 and never received that particular memo.

Combine these two facts and imagine the fun my family and I had in Las Vegas this past weekend. We were there to join my mother-in-law's family as they celebrated her dad's 90th birthday. Most of the gang was there from the East coast, and as we had missed the official celebration in August (being that we have all these kids and live on the West coast and Poppy lives an hour plus away from the nearest po-dunk airport and 3 from JFK or La Guardia), we agreed to drive out and meet everyone there.

We knew that the trip would be challenging and we were alarmed that the family had been led by an imbecilic travel agent - probably the only one in America who's never actually been to Las Vegas - to stay at the Imperial Palace. Still, we were glad that Julia was getting over the sore throat and fever she'd had all week and we were hoping to make the best of the trip. So, armed with snacks, drinks, books, DVDs, crayons and more than a few prayers, we set off on the 6 hour trip. Miraculously, we got on the road early, the kids did great on the drive, and we got to the city in great time.

We got our first taste of things to come when we hit Friday afternoon rush hour traffic just as Ethan announced that he needed a bathroom. We had no choice but to pull over to the side of the off-ramp and let him moon the entire city while cars inched by. Classy.

The kids ooh'ed and ahh'ed as we drove past the giant hotels and beautiful facades. And then we reached our hotel.

The Imperial Palace is neither imperial nor palatial. It is a shithole.

To ramble on and on about just how bad the IP sucks would result in much too long of a post. The decor, the smell, the service...it's just all bad. We shared a swanky 2-bedroom penthouse suite with Ray's mom and his aunt. The mini-fridge smelled so gross that my kids refused to drink the milk I had stored in it, complaining that it tasted like cabbage. They've never even tasted cabbage. The toilet seat was worn away in so many places that I think Frank Sinatra himself probably used it at some point. I shudder to think what a regular room is like.

When Julia was 4 months old, we traveled to Florida to visit Ray's elderly grandfather (the other Poppy). We drove in from Atlanta and had to spend the night in Alachua in the grossest, creepiest motel I've ever been to. There were blood stains on the towels and I refused to step into the nasty shower. It seriously grossed me out to take my perfect sweet baby girl and stay in that filthy room. The Imperial Palace is the Alachua of Las Vegas. Other guests joked that the initials IP really should stand for ImPlode.

Mercifully, we finally got out of there for a while the afternoon after we got in, but not before having two meals at their nasty coffee shop, the Tea House (which came to be known by us as the Pee House). We headed to Circus Circus and the kids had a great time. It was like Chuck E. Cheese on steroids. It actually brought back happy memories of my own trips to Las Vegas as a child, begging to go to Circus Circus and playing the camel race with my cousins. A more recent addition to Circus Circus is the Adventuredome, a smoke-free mini-theme park with rides, junk food, and more games. This was a great way to spend our day.

From there we headed to Paris and tried to survive another meal while Bunch screamed. I have to say, he was fairly cooperative on the trip as a whole. Between his new obsession with Legos ("eggos") and the few words he now uses to communicate, the screaming has decreased. However, going from car seat to stroller to high chair back to the stroller is not his idea of a good time and even he's got his limits. The big kids got new Webkinz from a store there, which helped to allay their disappointment that we couldn't go up the Eiffel Tower due to the high winds. In fact, the fountains and volcano were also turned off because of the weather.


The highlight of the trip for me was jumping out of the car at the Bellagio to show my two older kids the stunning Chihuly installation in the lobby. A while back, they had seen some photos of Dale Chihuly's work on the internet and had showed some interest. I've been a fan of his work since we got exposed to it while living in Seattle. I couldn't resist the opportunity to show them the actual work when it was so readily accessible. I figured they should know that Las Vegas isn't just about worn vinyl and giant belt buckles. Ethan wasn't that impressed but Julia was very interested. We also went to the conservatory which never fails to stun me with its beautiful seasonal decorations. This time it was an autumn theme and was absolutely gorgeous. Even Ethan enjoyed the "waterfall" of apples. The only bad part about our little 15-minute excursion was that it underscored just how crappy our own hotel was when we returned to it.

I could go on and on, but why? Everyone knows that when you travel with a lot of people, decisions made by the group are not always best for certain individuals. This is magnified when one member of your group is a spry 90-year old birthday boy who still needs to get a nap in now and then. Going on this trip was the right thing to do, and it was lovely to see Poppy and his "girlfriend," whom I'd never met. She is a sweetheart and couldn't have been nicer to me and the kids. Everyone else did their best and we even got to leave the kids with Grandma and go play a little blackjack at night. Our itinerary and accommodations did nothing but make me long to go back to "Lost" Vegas, as Ethan calls it, this time in a nicer hotel, with better entertainment, different traveling companions and no kids. Like I said, what kind of idiot would take kids to Las Vegas anyway?

P.S. Thanks to everyone who's been concerned about our safety during the fire season. Although we drove through some fire areas on our way back from Vegas, our town is not affected. Our hearts are with the firefighters and those who are in the fires' path.

Thank you dpdixon for the photo of the Strip and ladnlins for the gorgeous picture of the Bellagio lobby.

Cheerios, Spongebob, and God

Almost a year ago, a Jewish family from Atlanta moved next door to us. Their kids were the same age and gender as our older two, and they loved hanging out in the cul de sac. The mom and I soon became good friends and chatted about everything from husbands to politics to religion and then some. I loved having a new friend right next door and I hoped I helped her feel a little less lonely after making a cross country move she didn't want to make. Sadly, we're no longer neighbors but we do remain friends.

One of the things we have in common is our religion. And although she's much more observant than I am (and feels way too guilty about way too much stuff), it's always nice not to have to explain things like holidays and traditions like to other folks. She just knows. She joined a temple within a week of moving here (9 years after moving, we have yet to do the same) and always invited me to accompany her to services and other events. We'd been to a couple of holiday things but never to services. Maybe it was residual Yom Kippur guilt, or the fact that Ray was going to be home late from work (again), but I decided to drag my kids to the Family Service with her and her kids a couple of Friday nights ago. I will not repeat this mistake again for a long, long time.

We get there and meet up with my friend and our other neighbor and her daughter and after chasing Brady around the grounds a bit, we file into the sanctuary where the boys grab their kippot and the older kids promptly march to the front row. It was interesting watching Ethan, who hasn't been inside a temple for a couple of years (for reasons which became very apparent in a few short moments). He had no idea what was going on but followed his friend, with Julia keeping an eye on him. We moms and Brady finally got seated a couple of rows behind the big kids and then the screaming started. That's right. Brady's current method of communication is to scream as loudly and ear-piercingly as possible. When he's feeling particularly verbal, he'll scream "Neh" to express his displeasure at the current situation. Otherwise, he'll just scream.

I scramble through my bag, grab a half-empty container of Cheerios, and get Bunch settled on my lap. For a few moments of bliss, he munched happily while I linked arms with my friends and sang some of the Friday night prayers. Pretty much at the same time as the Cheerios ran out, a tearful Ethan came back to my seat to inform me that "this place is dumb" and he was ready to go home. Crap.

From my diaper bag I pull out some giant Lego blocks for Bunch, a sheet of epoxy Spongebob stickers for Ethan and peace was temporarily restored again. As Ethan covered my arm with 20 or so different Spongebob faces then moved them one by one to my leg (who needs to go get waxed?), and Brady played with his Legos I once again got to enjoy the feeling of being in a temple on a Friday night for the first time in way too many years. The kids were actually quiet for 13 seconds until Ethan started going through my bag and found his toy hammer. Crap. First, he started banging on the epoxy Spongebob heads. Then he moved on to the chairs themselves. Then he continued with the potted plant next to our row of seats. By this time his friends in the front row had to come check out what all the noise and fun was about. And that's when Brady decided he wanted to play with the big kids too. Mind you, the service is going on this entire time.

The other kids were quickly shooed back to their seats by their mothers while Ethan, under threats on his very life, came back to his own seat where he sat on the floor and hammered the chair cushion. Brady, however, was completely done at this point and voiced his displeasure as loudly as possible, compelling the rabbi to remark on the strength of his lungs. And then my cell phone rang.

Mercifully, the service eventually ended and we headed over to the Sukkah to say the blessings over the wine and bread. My kids actually enjoyed that part, because it involved food. Just before we left to get our traditional Shabbat dinner of Wendy's drive-through, my friends actually had the audacity to ask when I was coming back.

It's interesting, attending services at 2 different temples within a week. You get a great urge to compare and contrast. Let's just say that this small, suburban congregation, with its almost makeshift bubble-like sanctuary and its rabbi and cantor combo who seem like they're auditioning for the next season of Last Comic Standing, falls short in a lot of ways to Valley Beth Shalom with its amazing rabbis, 1000+ member families and lovely facilities. But there was love, and caring, and friendship, and community here. There were smiles for my screaming baby and songs that captivated my daughter. And for me, there was the feeling that I was doing the right thing as a mom, even though it was hard, and stressful, and embarrassing. This feeling is hard to come by. I still don't plan on returning soon but I'm definitely glad I went.

What I Learned While Not Having The Best Summer Ever

Well it definitely was NOT the best summer ever. It wasn't even close. I'm trying to think of a few days, or even parts of days that were really really good and am having a hard time coming up with more than just two or three. If someone had told me a few months ago what the summer held in store, I would have laughed (nervously) at the idea of so many things being piled on all at once. But, as Forrest Gump said, "You never know what you're gonna get," and while I didn't know what I was gonna get, I did manage to pick up a few lessons from the summer vacation that officially ends tonight:

• Knees are delicate objects and do not enjoy being pulled apart in strange directions. They heal slowly and can manage to screw up all kinds of other body parts while they do.
• What may seem to be the most well constructed hose under a relatively new sink can burst suddenly with no provocation or warning and create the most unbelievable chaos in its wake.
  
• Not all friendly contractors are your friend.
• Celebrating your birthday at a restaurant with your three children, no matter how much you love them, does not make for a relaxing evening and
• One table with three children can make significantly more noise than another with four, five, or more. Who the hell can count with that screeching in my ear?
• My favorite relaxation DVD is immensely more effective if I turn on the DVD player and actually go through the routines.
  
• No matter what, it's always a good day at the beach.
• It doesn't matter how old you get, you still need your mom and dad.
  
• Even the most stubborn four year old can be taught to swim.
• Scrapbooking really is therapy. My therapist told me.
  
• Not all home inspectors inspect for asbestos. It is a good idea to verify this before signing closing papers.
  
• Going out to eat gets really old, really fast.
• Certain four year old boys think nothing of dropping their pants and showing off their tushie at the public library, say, or at a nice-ish restaurant because their mother hasn't been humiliated enough yet.
  
• Of all the cute things babies do, talking is the cutest.
  
• I need to spend more time in my unconscious, whatever that means.
  
• Soccer camp is fun! Especially when there are cute coaches with cute British accents! It's fun for the kids too.
  
• Depression and anxiety are very real things with emotional and physical symptoms that can leave you reeling. Luckily, there is all sorts of help and relief out there when you start looking for it.
  
• I am blessed to be surrounded by a network of friends, family and others who I've learned I can depend on for so much. While learning to accept others' help is difficult, it's a wonderful feeling to know that I have my own, strong, personal parachute that keeps me aloft and prevents me from falling too far.

It's A Wiggles World

It all started when Julia was a toddler and the Disney channel would play short clips of 4 Australian guys singing cheery songs in between shows. Little did we know that the Wiggles were on the cusp of world domination.

We bought her a Wiggles CD and joyously all sang along and laughed as she mispronounced all the words. Eventually, the CD got stolen out of my car, she outgrew the music and we became a full-fledged Thomas family. That's right, by this time Ethan had joined our family and as much as he liked an occasional Elmo or Blue's Clues, he was, and still remains, a Thomas fan through and through. That is, until a couple of months before his 4th birthday (the one he almost didn't get to have because boys who still wear diapers have to stay 3) when he suddenly fell in love with Greg, Murray, Anthony and Jeff and declared that he wanted a Wiggles birthday party. The stars aligned, I found a bunch of Wiggles party stuff on clearance and the party was a success.

Of course by now Mr. Bunch had also joined our family and little did we know it but his little ears had been listening to all that Wiggles music all along. So much so that when he started saying Giggo Giggo and we all thought it was so cute, my MIL correctly deciphered it as actually his attempt to say Wiggles. All of a sudden our Tivo went into Wiggles overdrive. This kid whose attention span is shorter than a Lindsey Lohan stint in rehab (i.e. don't blink) will actually sit through a 25 minute episode of the Wiggles.

This was a really really good thing until we went from having three working televisions to one. As anyone knows, the youngest member of any family runs the household. So here we sit in our overheated master bedroom, watching episode after episode of Giggo Giggo. Though we have several episodes recorded, it's not uncommon to find us watching the same episode more than once a day. The little guy will not still sit for Sesame Street or, much to his older siblings' dismay, Wow Wow Wubzy or Spongebob Squarepants or anything else. Giggo it must be. And in the car, we get to watch and listen to Wiggles DVDs. This is what I mean by world domination.

Thankfully, I've always liked the Wiggles. Their songs are cheerful and catchy and they don't get on my nerves like they do several of my mommy friends'. I'd much rather listen to an endless loop of Hot Potato than one performance of insipid Barney, for example, singing I Love You, You Love Me. So our little Wiggles obsession could be much worse to tolerate than it is.

The funniest part of all this is that now Julia is a born-again Wiggles fan. She loves the shows, she likes the songs and she jumps out of her seat to dance along. She's even got the choreography down. She probably would prefer that her friends think she spends her days watching Hannah Montana, but the truth is much sweeter.

You might be tempted to post a comment about the perils of too much television for children. Don't bother. I have no floors; basically, no downstairs. If Giggo is going to get my kid to sit still while I feed him and save me from having macaroni and cheese smeared into my bedroom carpet, then bring it on. If three kids will sit down and be quiet and not ask me for one more thing for 25 minutes so I can figure out which fire to put out next, then thank the Lord. And if these Wiggles will distract my babies from the fact that their house is a disaster, their mom has lost her mind and their dad is a little broken, then it's a miracle indeed.

Sometimes....

A boy just needs his Frappucino!

His First Haircut

Before:



and after:




Brady got his hair cut for the first time Tuesday, which was about 4 months too late for his father. He was so tired he almost fell asleep in the chair. So much for my fears that he'd be so wiggly he'd get stabbed with the scissors. Although I think his haircut makes his giant head look even bigger, it's grown on me and even I have to admit he looks pretty cute.

The Weaning Post

When my mind and body started doing screwy things over the last couple of months, the brain trust that I consult about most issues (made up of my mom, sister, aunt, a couple of cousins and a few select girlfriends) came to a consensus that the breastfeeding hormones were at odds with the regular hormones and it was resulting in chaos, especially certain times of the month. All of a sudden tons of friends were telling me stories of strange issues they had from long-term breastfeeding. This theory kind of correlated with something my beloved OB/Gyn mentioned at my last annual exam and I kind of went with it.

Problem was, at the time, Mr. Bunch was firmly ensconced in his 4-5 times a day nursing habit. What's worse is that he'd recently begun toddling around and would come grab my shirt whenever the urge struck him (so like a man!). To make matters more difficult (so like a man!) he likes neither cow's milk nor pacifiers. Spoiled baby!! I didn't think there would be any way to get him off the boob!

My beloved pediatrician, with whom I generally disagree about breastfeeding matters, advised me to cut him off cold-turkey. "You'll have a couple of difficult days," he predicted, "and then it will be over." Easy for him to say, not getting to live through those agonizing days. Cold-turkey would not work for us.

Still, I knew the time had come. Although I always, always get sad as my babies leave behind a stage of their babyhood, I also realized that this was best not just for him, but for me and the other 3 people who depend on my (quickly-diminishing) sanity daily. As I turned it over in my mind, I realized that I just can't feel guilty about nursing my 3rd baby exclusively for over 15 months. Therefore, new routines were put in place, Dad took over Brady's bed time, and I broke out the bottles so he could still have something to suck. To my amazement, he did great. He still grabbed my shirt once or twice, but was easily pacified with a bottle of water, a snack, and a snuggle. His 5 times a day turned into just one: first thing in the morning, just before falling back to sleep for a short while.

I can so totally live with this. I get my fix and he gets his. All nursing takes place within the confines of my home, which means I get to go back to wearing my lovely non-nursing bras all day and no longer get funny looks from strangers as I try to wrestle a giant breast-feeding toddler while yelling at my other kids and trying to maintain some semblance of modesty.

Still I'm starting to get signals that this, too, will end soon. Not only have my hormonal issues not completely gone away, but Brady skipped our regular morning appointment today. And never seemed to miss it. Of course, I'm so happy this is his decision instead of something I force him to do for my sake. But I'm still sad, wondering if I've missed our last time in my early-morning grogginess. I hope not. I hope I get one more morning with my little Bunch, to snuggle and nurture and kiss his feet while he looks up at me with smiles in his sleepy eyes. I hope he give me at least one more time to soak it all in for the last time and sadly say good-bye to one of the most fulfilling, lovely parts of motherhood.


Edited to add: Brady indulged me Saturday morning and we had a great time. I don't know if that was the last time. If it was, it was a good one!

Mommy's Helper

Help this cute isn't easy to come by. And I might add, it ain't cheap!


And now, because it's Friday and I'm feeling generous, here's a bonus toes shot...because you just can never get too many pictures of baby toes.

ONE!!!

He's 1!!

A big one year old toddler (who isn't quite toddling) today!!

I could go on about how weepy I am that my baby has gotten so big so fast. Or how quickly it's all gone by. Or what a difficult year it's been. I'll refrain.

I'll focus instead on all the cute things he's doing now: pulling up, grabbing things, saying things that almost sound like words. I know the next few months will be a developmental explosion and each stage will be more fun than the last. He now interacts with his brother and sister so much more; watching them together is such a joy.

The big kids decided that we should celebrate at Chuck E Cheese tonight and so we shall. The birthday bash is this weekend (praying for good weather), so we'll spend the rest of the week reveling in our big Mr. Bunch. We love you.