It's All About the Chemicals

I could use this space to rant about how I'm so mad that I'm sick that they should invent new swear words to describe my anger. The ones we have just don't cut it. I could complain that my annoying cough just went away and I was actually enjoying sleeping in my bed and not on the couch when the fever, chills and aches started. I could even go on and on about the horrible timing of this because not only is my husband in the middle of a really busy time at work, including two late nights in a row, but also because the one person in the world who would come over, take care of me and my kids and send me straight to bed while she fixed me hot tea and soup is in Freaking China. China! I could do all of those things.

But rather than spew all that venom into the world, which frankly is pretty full up, this being election season and all, I'll be the bright ray of sunshine that you all know me for being. The sunlight and joy in every day. That's right, I won't complain (this time). Instead, I'll sing the praises of the one person who makes it possible for me to get out of bed and go through my exhausting day without having a complete mental breakdown (yet). Mr. Advil Inventor, you will never know how much I love you.

The Halloween Recap

I'm thinking the day after Halloween should be declared a national day of rest. There seems to be so much leading up to the day, then trick or treating, and that candy induced sugar rush to slowly come down from (and I don't mean just the kids!). Add to that the fact that it's now November and the start of The Holiday Season (dreaded words to many). We could all use a day to relax before we launch into the next two months' activity.

Our Halloween was a good one. Julia made it to school and back with her costume intact. Thanks to a smart mommy at her school party who insisted that all 25 kids put garbage bags on over their clothes before they start painting with black and purple paint. First year teachers don't lack enthusiasm but there are certain things they don't think through. We made more candy corn cookies for her class, and while the process was almost the end of me, they seemed to go over well. After Jack O' Lantern quesadillas, complete with barf and boogers, for dinner, we headed out for trick or treating. First we stopped to see some cousins visiting from the East coast. Lots of fun, that.

Because our neighborhood has its own surprisingly large population of spooks,weirdos, and freaks year-round (this is a whole other post), apparently Halloween isn't a big night here and trick-or-treating is, frankly, lame. We went instead to the neighborhood we want to move to and had a blast. There were tons of kids out, and Ethan and Julia were so much less timid than last year. The adults were really friendly, sweet Bunch fell asleep in the stroller and we had fun fantasizing about which house we'd like to move into. Even the older kids we saw were really cute and nice to our little ones. The only thing that would have made it better would've been to be strolling with a lovely Caramel Apple Cider from Starbucks. Lesson learned for next year.

This night confirmed that this is definitely the neighborhood for us and we're going to start looking in earnest. It will remain to be seen if we can actually buy a house here and still do things like turn on the lights and eat (and no, we're not talking a mansion or anything close) but we intend to find out.

There was a low point in the evening. A few houses handed out spooky labels with a message to vote against a certain issue in the upcoming local election. It was completely inappropriate and thoroughly pissed me off. There's no reason to get kids involved in political issues. Sick, sick move and I hope it backfires. Who's the idiot who thought this would be a good idea?

Happy Halloween everyone. Now put your feet up for the rest of the day because tomorrow you'll start stressing about You Know What.

Book Review: Toilet Training the Brazelton Way

Unlike my last book review, I've actually read this book, and, incidentally, don't I just read the most interesting books? So while the review is refreshingly not half-assed, the book kind of is.

This is a good book for anyone who has not yet begun toilet training his or her first child. It gives you lots of advice on how to ease into the process and go about the whole annoying business with a lot of patience and a really long time line. However, it is also useful if you are deep into the potty training process. So deep, in fact, that according to some grandmothers you are a good year behind schedule. In such a situation, it is really good at pointing out every single mistake you made, each time you put too much pressure on your poor bladder-challenged child, and all the long-term damage you may have caused in your unreasonable haste. Really, you are a horrible mother. Whatever gave you the idea that you should reproduce?

This book does have some positive things in its favor. First off, it's really short. Second, it gave me the suggestion to put my kid on the toilet backwards, facing the wall. Genius! No more precarious situations with me squatting and trying to balance both my weight and that of a squirmy little boy who is convinced he will fall in and be flushed away. Finally, it's given me a little more freedom to back off and take the trainee's lead. He's making sloooooooooooow progress and I'm trying not to lose my mind.

This definitely is not a magic bullet, train your kid in a weekend kind of book. But, if you and the kid are headed into the bathroom and you know you'll be in there so long you decide to bring an overnight bag and a cold beverage, it's the perfect size to use as a coaster on the edge of the bathtub.

It's Fall!

Once upon a time, I used to subscribe to Martha Stewart's magazine and do things like take cake decorating classes and attend cooking lessons taught by actual chefs in actual restaurant kitchens. Restaurants that did not serve chicken tenders and fries, even. I had a cute and quirky little house, with a kitchen I would give my right pinkie finger to have again, and I had a lot of fun decorating it in my own amateur way. Those days are gone. I now live in a crappy little house, and most decorating attempts are quickly nullified by Ethan The Tornado (more like a dust storm, but you get the picture). Still, I always try to put a few pretty things out when it starts feeling like fall. Today was the day.



To top it off, Mr. Tornado and I spent the morning making candy corn cookies for his preschool's Halloween party tomorrow. We had a great time, he couldn't have been cuter, and it helped with my constant guilt about him not getting enough of my attention since he became The Middle Child. The recipe is out of the October issue of Parent's magazine.


So, even though it's supposed to be 90 degrees tomorrow, at our house, it will officially be fall.

It's A Girl Thing...Unfortunately

Of all the fun things about being a girl, and there are many, one of the most amusing is everything having to do with fashion. Especially when other people are wearing the clothes and you get to be the scathing critic. Come on, how many of us watch the Oscars just to see what the stars are wearing? And while we all love to admire those who look beautiful and perfectly put together, it's way more fun when someone shows up looking ridiculous. There are entire magazines and web sites, not to mention cackling Joan Rivers and her talented daughter, to this very subject. It's definitely a girl thing, and a fun one at that.

So the other night when I first caught my 6 year old daughter and my sister leafing through the pages of In Style, deciding who looked pretty and who didn't, I thought it was a very cute, very sweet bonding moment between a little girl and her aunt. I was amused to see Julia, who has recently become very opinionated about her own wardrobe, have smart comments to make on the pictures in the magazine, as well. I always wanted a girly girl and I've definitely got one, at least as far as clothes go.

An instant later, though, I was hit with the realization that this is how young girls start being exposed to the very media images that we know are behind the rise in eating disorders, poor body image, and low self-esteem that many young girls (and girls at an increasingly younger age) are experiencing. I've watched enough Dr. Phil to know that these are not things to be taken lightly. Unfortunatley, I've got my own baggage as far as body image and self-esteem go, and so it is importnat to me to set a healthy example for Julia. At the very least, I want her never to feel inferior because of her size or what she looks like. Luckily, that hasn't been an issue for her and I hope it never becomes one. What's more, it is also vital to me to raise children who can see beyond the superficiality they are surrounded by (do kids really need to be wearing $100 jeans and having plastic surgery before they graduate high school? In my little corner of the world, apparently they do) and judge people by their personalitlies and actions, not by their clothes.

So, what to do? Do I put an end to Julia and her aunt having a great time looking at the cool clothes in order to teach Julia a lesson? This time, I decided not to. With a few veiled comments to Tannaz, we quickly got on the same page. The conversation was focused more on the clothes than the people wearing them, which I think is appropriate. And the opinions of this particular precinct of the Fashion Police were overwhelmingly more positive than nasty. Good and good. Still, this is something I will continue to quietly keep my eye on because I'd hate for Julia to internalize the notion that she has to look like one of the airbrushed models in the magazine. So when we watch Dancing With The Stars I may point out that the dancers are hard workers and athletic, in addition to noticing how silly the headdresses always look.

Is it just me or did being 6 used to be a lot more simple?

He's Leaving Me: The Sleep Post

Call me pathetic, call me sappy, call me whatever you want (ok, not that!) but I'm not one of those moms who just gushes with glee every time her child meets a milestone, celebrates a birthday, and shows obvious signs of growing up. I've been known to cry when putting away the clothes my babies have outgrown. Of course, I'm thrilled and blessed to know that my children are healthy and developing normally, but a part of me wants to keep them babies forever, and I seem to have a lot of trouble keeping that part quiet. After all, in my own nutty family, any signs of independence were immediately honed in on with laser precision and squashed lest they run rampant and ruin not just my life but my entire devastated family's.

So, while most parents would be glad to have their sweet infant sleeping in his own room at night, my heart is breaking jut a bit that my little roommate has moved on to bigger and better things: namely, sleeping through the night in his very own crib, much too far away from his doting mommy.

We didn't come by this momentous occasion easily. Unlike Ethan The Wonder Baby, up to now Brady has preferred to fall asleep with a boob in his mouth, or at the very least in extremely close proximity. Contrary to the advice to put babies down when they're sleepy but still awake, we'd have to put him down dead asleep and then pray he didn't wake up. Always a light sleeper, recently he'd started waking up when we'd come into our bedroom, several hours after he'd already gone down. So we started putting him down in his own crib at the beginning of the night and then moving him when we were going to sleep, so he'd be close by for night time feedings. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn't. Overall, our system has been somewhat chaotic, usually leading to long nights of me trying to get him to go to sleep, succeeding long enough to start some night time chores (dishes, school lunches, etc.), only to have him wake up 30 minutes later, and to have to start the process over again. This does not make for a relaxing evening.

Even though I'm generally against letting babies "cry it out" in order to go to sleep, I knew the time had come for Mr. Bunch. Let me be clear: I hate this method and would never ever ever recommend it for a newborn or young infant. I did it with my older kids, however, and knew I'd have to this time as well. Friday night turned out to be the night. We finally got everyone to bed and were all but passed out on the couch. Ray had just returned from a business trip and I was pretty immobile with a bad backache. So when Brady started crying a half hour after he went to sleep, no one was exactly jumping up to soothe him. We let him go a while, and pretty soon 30 minutes had passed. Eventually I reasoned that it would do more harm than good to go get him. The last thing I want to do is reinforce the crying by rewarding it with a loving visit from Mommy and her portable dairy. I'm proud to say that our son didn't go down without a fight. After a while the screams turned to whimpers and he finally went to sleep after the worst hour I've had since he was born. Of course, I hated myself, just like I had the nights when I let Julia and Ethan cry themselves to sleep. For the record, Brady cried more than Ethan and less than Julia.

The real test of the sleep torture method actually comes the night following the torture. If it worked, the baby will get himself to sleep with considerably less crying than the previous night. For example, it took Julia 3 nights to get herself to sleep without crying at all. I'm happy to report that for Brady, it was pretty much an instant success. Saturday night he went to sleep with barely a whimper. But the true miracle came early this morning. He'd woken up sometime before 5 a.m., when he usually does to eat. t took me a while to wake up and get my act together to go take care of him and by the time I did, he had fallen back to sleep!!!! A few whimpers and he was out, with no cuddles, milk or parental intervention. Woo hoo!

It's hard to sit here and type this with Brady in his room, instead of in the co-sleeper he's slept in almost every night of his life. By the way, the Co-Sleeper by Arm's Reach is one of those awesome inventions that allow you to have your cake and eat it too: the baby sleeps right next to you, in a contraption attached to your bed, but you don't have the risks of having the baby actually sleeping in your bed. I used it with all 3 kids and loved it. Anyway, I know he's where he needs to be, and is sleeping better away from us and our tossing and turning and snoring and lights and TV and computer and alarms in the morning. My brain knows all that. But my heart knows that this is just the first step as my last baby grows up, and out, and just a little further away from me. I'll miss him all night. Every night.

Mr. Bunch, on one of his last mornings in his co-sleeper.

Validation

No one would call me a fashion guru (shut up) but it seems I am right about one thing. Remember when I went off about those godawful Crocs that are the current scourge of casual footwear? Well, it seems that Those Who Know agree. Check out one of my favorite blogs. Crocs are not OK.

My Future's So Bright....

I gotta wear shades!

Forgiveness

Although I'm not the most observant Jew these days, there's a lot I love about being Jewish. Apart from the joy that accompanies every celebration, the great food (NOT gefilte fish, but the really good stuff), the tradition, the community, all of it, it's just a religion that makes sense to me. Growing up in a traditional Jewish family, I had a pretty extensive Jewish education. And although Hebrew school is as much social as it is educational, if not more so, a lot of what they taught seemed to stick. Add to that my own experience with a pretty observant extended family, and exposure to both Orthodox and Reform Judaism, as well as the Conservative temple that I grew up in, and I know enough about this complex religion to know that it works for me.

Case in point is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day of the year. Today. Yom Kippur falls 10 days after the Jewish new year, Rosh Hashanah, and is a day where we ask God to forgive us for the sins we have committed against Him, and to inscribe us and our loved ones in the book of life for the coming year. Although it involves a 25 hour fast (there are many exemptions to this for those who are pregnant, elderly, nursing and/or infirm) and almost as many hours in a synagogue, it's a good way to start the year. You make your peace with God, the slate is wiped clean, and the new year is yours to do with as you like. Judaism is a religion of freedom and choices, and you alone can direct the course of the coming year.

Here's the clincher about Yom Kippur, and the part that makes it seem so logical to me. While you can pray and fast and earn God's forgiveness, that forgiveness only goes as far as the sins that you've committed against Him. So if you've sinned against another person, you're to use the 10 days before Yom Kippur to find that person, be accountable, and make amends, in the hopes that he or she will forgive you. Only he or she has that power. That's right, even God almighty is powerless to intervene if you've wronged another person. And each person holds a power that God cannot possess: that of forgiving one who's transgressed against him or her. But as you think it through, you realize that if God can forgive us the sins that we commit, knowingly or unknowingly every day, shouldn't we also forgive those who come to us with sincere contrition, bothered by the fact that they may have hurt us, and ask for another chance? Doesn't that act bring us just a little closer to God?

Believe it or not, I hate discussing religion. I think it's so personal, so private, that I hate to talk about it with most people. I hate explaining it, or feeling like I have to defend it. There are parts that I'm not even sure of my own views about, and parts that I feel guilty about, and much I struggle with. In addition, unlike most religions, Jews are discouraged, if not outright forbidden, to proselytize. But observing Yom Kippur is one of the things I love about being Jewish. My observance of this holiday as an adult is a bit different from how my parents observed it as we grew up, and I'm sure it will evolve as my own kids get older. But I don't think contrition and forgiveness are strictly Jewish issues. In fact, if I've offended anyone by anything I've written in this blog, I sincerely apologize.

To all who are fasting, I hope it goes quickly and easily. And may we all be inscribed in the book of life for the year to come.

Best Summer Ever Wrap-Up

Fall is the one season I go into kicking and screaming. Although I like it well enough once I'm in it, I like to delay the onset as much as possible. Give me flip-flops and shorts over sweaters, socks and shoes you have to lace up, especially when I'm responsible for 3 other people to dress. Luckily I live in a part of the country where the start of fall is nice and gradual and isn't really official until towards the middle of October.

But the signs are definitely here. Besides the Halloween decorations everywhere, our leaves are starting to change color too. Mornings are foggy and evenings are cool. Since we declared it the Best Summer Ever way back in May, I thought I'd do a wrap-up and see how we did on our goals to have as much fun as possible.

• Grill-did this quite a bit, but not enough. The most notable addition to our grilling repertoire was Trader Joe's Carne Asada, or "spicy steak" as Julia calls it.

• Beach-not enough. After Memorial Day weekend, we ended up going just once, and it was cold and stinky. Big bummer, but definitely something to improve on next year.

• Swim-We did this quite a bit, whether at friends' homes, Grandma Goob's, or on one of our trips. Julia had a great summer of swim lessons and she's officially water safe. One of these days, maybe we'll even have our own pool.

• Play in the Backyard-done! The swing set was a big hit on the days that weren't too hot.

• Camp-done and it was a huge success. Woo hoo Julia!!!

• Legoland-done!

• Disneyland-done!

• Read-eh, could've done better.

• Clean out the kids' rooms-kinda sorta

• Scrapbook-in my dreams.

• Picnics and playdates-didn't happen, which is sort of disappointing.

• Stay up late-done, but we soon realized that earlier bedtimes are better for everyone.

• Sleep in-heck yeah!

• Ice Cream-um, yeah.

• Popsicles-ditto

• Shave Ice-most definitely, although the end of summer won't be the end of that.

• Date nights-unfortunately, this didn't happen as much as we'd liked. But my birthday dinner was amazing!

• Sleepovers at the grandparents'-sadly, no.

• Zoo-ditto

• Go to work with Daddy-ditto, but we can do this during the school year, too.

• Get Ethan Potty Trained-you know how that went.

• Dinner at Paradise Cove-this one we did do but it wasn't as great as it could've been.

There were a few other things that didn't happen. As usual, the summer went by too fast. It was also a lot of work planning all the outings, excursions, etc. and trying to fill the kids' days. I'm hoping that next summer, with Brady a bit older, will be less chaotic and much less tiring. We'll definitely remember these lessons (camp for sure, swim lessons for Ethan, Legoland is not necessary) and hopefully have the Best Best Summer Ever in 2007!

What I Learned At Tannaz's Birthday Party

In a show of amazing bravery, which could also be viewed as foolishness, my sister invited not just my brood and I, but our parents! to her birthday barbecue with all her friends last night. Talk about your worlds colliding! As I am not in the habit of hanging out with twentysomethings and my parents and/or drinking all at the same time (too bad) I ended up learning a few things.

* It is possible to have a successful gathering of 30 or so people without being a stress case, planning everything to death, and working yourself into a complete lather for months beforehand. However, it is not kind to invite your parents to a party and make them man the grill the whole time. Of course, some people's parents have big issues with relinquishing control, but that's a whole 'nother post.

* My 6 year old daughter is a complete social butterfly, not to mention, a flirt...but primarily with grown-ups. At one point she was in a group talking and laughing with 4 or 5 of the guests. It's the kids she sometimes has trouble connecting with.

* Blue cheese dip made with lowfat cream cheese and candied pecans rather than full-fat and plain walnuts is quite delicious. Also, the more cognac the merrier. In the dip, I mean.

* Drinking beer, wine, and Tannaz's strange cucumber-vodka concoction all in one sitting does not, in fact, make you sick! Woo hoo.

* It doesn't matter if they're 3 or 30, boys think boogers, farting, and burping, along with other general gross stuff, are funny.

* My dad is fun! Everyone who knows my dad knows that, he's a lot of really great things, but he's also kind of a grouch. He has no problem falling asleep at social events if the conversation isn't stimulating. Phone conversations with him are quite short, and often include grunting in lieu of speaking. He has a lot of fun with his own group of friends, sure, but he's always been really quiet, if not purposely absent, with ours. But last night was a different story. It turns out that Tannaz's friends like tequila as much as he does. He was positively hilarious. Way to go Saeed!

* People should do what they're good at. Say you're a really good, even a great, smart, cook. And you've mastered many difficult techniques and on any day have a freezer stocked with exotic dishes and finely chopped ingredients to make more exotic dishes. This does not mean that you know how to barbecue. If this describes you, and someone else tells you to stop flipping the damn mean so it will cook, take my advice and don't serve raw meat to someone else's poor unsuspecting guests.

* Little boys are much easier to keep track of when the exits are blocked.

* When my mom is trying to cook the food and chat with the guests at my sister's party, she has no time to take care of my kids. What the hell? Who's going to take care of them then?

* Tannaz and her friends are cool, fun, accomplished people. The group represented a slice of young LA life and the vibe was so friendly and welcoming. I'm so glad they're all in her life. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of this fun group of friends, and I'm so glad to have been asked to join them for the evening.

How to Make Friends and Irritate Your Mother or Adventures In Potty Training

Allow your mom to put a pull-up on you. Promise promise promise that Buzz will keep his airplanes this time (they magically disappear when they get wet). Elicit a promise from her that if he does, you get candy.

Pee in your pull-up, then demand a bathroom break. Dribble 4 drops of pee into the potty, the rest of it already being in the pull-up, and proclaim the bathroom break a success. Insist on wiping yourself, flush, demonstrate a flushing toilet, wash your hands, get water all over the bathroom. Demand candy for your success because you did after all squeeze out a few drops and there was one corner of one airplane that hadn't disappeared by the time the pull-up came off. Get a lollipop just so your mom can you the hell out the door to Costco. Promise promise promise that you'll save your lollipop for after your pizza. Ask 90 magillion times if you can have just one lick before the pizza.

Roll all over the nasty Costco bench as you eat your pizza while your mom cuts yours, eats hers and feeds nasty looking pea baby food to your brother who doesn't really like it. Ask if you're being a big boy. Make your mom late so she has to shove the rest of your pizza in your mouth 3 bites at a time. Ask if you're being a good boy. Ask for ice cream.

Get your lollipop at last.

Tell every single person you come across at Costco that you get candy when you have a bathroom break. Invite the checker to come to the bathroom at your house 'cause maybe your mom will give him candy.

Go to school with your mom and brother to pick up your sister.

Go hide behind the classroom where your mom can't see you.

Poop in your pull-up.

Happy Day!

Today is the day my baby sister, Tannaz, celebrates her 29th birthday for the first time. In honor of this momentous day, Jews all around the world will feast on apples and honey, and if they happen to be Persian, also on cow tongue and black eyed peas (I'm sensing a huge culture clash...what if you're Persian and from the South? Do you double up?). Oh wait, maybe that's for something else. At our Rosh Hashanah celebration, we will have the aforementioned, as well as birthday cake. Woo hoo!

Happy Birthday Tannazie and happy New Year to all who are celebrating it tonight. May it be one of peace and prosperity.

If You Are My Husband...

And you got yourself on the local news last night for being a hero and helping get a school built where it's sorely needed....
And you got your back patted by all the big boys, and a few girls, at work...
And you've been frolicking at the Four Seasons for the last day or two, "working" while you loll by the pool in between expensive meals....

Don't think you don't have to change poopy diapers when you get home not a minute too soon!



P.S. The flowers were a very nice touch, thanks.

Free Fashion Tip of the Day

Gentlemen:

If you must insist on wearing these godawful plastic shoes for some reason, there is no reason to make them uglier than they inherently are by adding socks, particularly when you are wearing them with shorts. Granted, the socks probably make your feet less stinky, but trust me, it's not worth it.

Of course, the same advice goes for the ladies but I can't imagine any ladies making this fatal footwear faux pas.

When Nature Calls

Picture the Pearl household on a surprisingly non-chaotic afternoon: Julia, having finished her homework and watched enough Spongebob to turn her own brain into kelp is playing on the computer; Ethan is happily making a mess in his room, quietly occupied in his happy place, after having run out to inform us that there is a "gecko" on his "ground" (translation: there's a lizard on his floor). A quick investigation reveals that the "gecko" has fled. I'm totally relieved because I'm not an animal person and definitely not a reptile person and yuck. But I know it'll probably be back. I put the whole episode out of my mind and head to the couch where I happily play with Brady, who is in an exceptional mood, and watch Dr. Phil. All is well, at least for the moment.

All of a sudden, my hand feels slimy and my arm is covered halfway up to my elbow in green poop. It's on my pants, all over Brady, everywhere. Disgusting! I holler for Julia to help me, undress the Bunch and start getting a bath ready for him. All of a sudden, I hear shrieking and Ethan RUNS out of his room. Guess who's back?

Completely creeped out, I grab a glass, make sure Julia is stationed to make sure Bunch doesn't roll off his changing table, and head into Ethan's room. This time, the poor baby lizard is trapped among the 10,000 toys on the floor and can't figure out which way to run. The poor thing tries to get away, and I'm so tempted to let it. But I'm The Mom and must Make It Go Away. After a little chasing, I use Ethan's dump truck to nudge it into my glass. And that little lizard trick with the detachable tail just never gets old, does it?

A few minutes later, Brady's clean, the lizard is wondering how the hell it landed on the front lawn, kids are playing and mom has recovered. It's not exactly dragon-slaying but it's the mom version. Hopefully, it'll always be this easy. Now, off to Lysol my watch.

Half Assed Book Review: Breeding Between The Lines

It is customary, when reviewing a book, to have actually read it. But I, laughing in the face of convention, have decided to recommend Breeding Between the Lines without taking the time to read it myself. Imagine how much time this will save me in reviewing book in the future. Besides, I already read a book this month.

There are several reasons you should check out this book, the premise of which is that people of interracial descent are healthier, more attractive, and a whole bunch of other good stuff (there would probably be more details if I'd read the thing). First, and foremost, it's written by a very good friend of my sister's. Alon is a really smart, good guy with whom she's been friends forever. Second, it's been well-received by those who did read it. The author is a clever, good-natured person, so I imagine his writing style to be engaging as well. He's been on some radio shows in LA, one of which I heard this morning (see, I do my research) and he did a great job enticing me to think about reading it. Plus, it's just cool that he was on the Kevin and Bean show. Third, apparently my sister appears in one of the examples, and since her lineage is identical to mine, you can, by reading this book, learn more about my ancestry than you ever hoped. I'll leave the book to spill the beans on whether we're interbred...or just inbred.

Finally, and this is serious now, apparently Alon's book has stirred up the white supremacist crowd into quite a tizzy. Obviously, they oppose any suggestion of mixing up the races and have chosen Alon to be the current subject of their vile hatred. Disgusting. Of course, the book has little things like science and common sense to back it up, but why let a little reality get in the way of your filth? For this reason alone, I'm tempted to buy several thousand copies of the book and help shoot it up the best seller list. Maybe I'll start by sending Mel Gibson a copy.

A Night Out

The gods smiled upon us, the stars aligned, and we actually got to go out last night. Ray is on the board for a great organization, the Child Care Resource Center and last night was their 30th anniversary gala. For us, a night out involves coordinating with the grandparents, schlepping food, milk, toys, diapers (in 2 sizes), pajamas, etc., fighting traffic, and other stress that hardly makes it worth it. Being on the political side of his business, Ray has to go to lots of evening events and I usually skip them. But he really wanted me to go to this one, and I had a dress (actually, several to choose from, miraculously, with shoes to match!) already in my closet, so I happily complied.

The event was at Universal Studios, with a silent auction along a couple of the fake Universal streets outside the ballroom where dinner was held. We bid on a few items (some very cool John Wooden autographed UCLA basketball memorabilia and VIP tickets to a taping of Dr. Phil) but were outbid. Because Ray didn't have to work at this particular event, we got to just hang out, eat some good food, have a few, ahem, drinks, and enjoy each other's company without having to worry about someone shoving chicken nuggets up his (or his baby brother's) nose. It was lots of fun to get dressed up, and see everyone else dressed up, in spite of my killer heels. Who cares how much they hurt when they look this good? The best part, by far, was having Ray tell me over and over how much fun it was for him to have me there. We definitely have to get out more.

If I Knew Then...

This is a topic my friend Jacquie posted for her blog ring this week, and it's taken some thought for me to post my response. I'm a firm believer that things happen for a reason, and that the journey is sometimes much more important than the destination. But I really think that if I knew how awesome it was going to be, I wouldn't have waited as long as I did to become a mom and start our family. I remember thinking, just after Julia was born, "What took us so long to do this?" I know I have the kids I was meant to have, and I can't imagine my family with a different set of kids. The only thought that lingers in the back of my head is that if I'd started younger, I may have decided to have more. I love my three to the ends of the universe, and now that I know how special they are, I can't help but think more would be better. Circumstances being what they are, this is most likely what my family will ultimately look like (I'm still mad at that little Bunch who didn't bring a twin sister with him), but then, we don't always know how things are meant to be, do we?

The only other thing I would have done had I known better would be to beg, borrow and steal to buy a house the minute we landed in California 8 years ago. But, again, the Southern California housing market is a topic for another bitter post somewhere down the line.

Random Thoughts and Updates

Agreeing to have Ray go to Las Vegas this weekend (just one night) for his annual dork convention, also known as the Fantasy Football Draft, earned me a little bit of time this afternoon to sit, veg, and not think. First order of business is to blather on a bit about some random stuff:

• First Grade seems to be going just fine, just as I hoped it would. The offending kid apparently hates ALL girls, not just mine; all the moms tell me that they've heard great things about Julia's teacher (no idea how), and most importantly, Julia is perfectly happy in her class. So far, so good.
• Other than a discolored middle finger (the joke continues), my hand no longer bears any signs of the fnipple. After the whole slicing off bit the black skin eventually fell off and there's brand new normal skin underneath. My hand doctor was very happy, and almost seemed surprised, that the granuloma seems to be gone. There's a little bump where it was, but it doesn't seem to be coming back so far. Woo hoo!
• Potty training has begun anew, God help us. I'm trying to have a sense of humor about it, and am trying some new parenting techniques (more on that in a later post) that are hopefully making it easier on Ethan and less frustrating for me, although cleaning poop off carpet is inherently frustrating, no matter how it got there and whose it is. We're nowhere near done, especially since he can't figure out that underwear is not absorbent like diapers. Preschool starts tomorrow (you'll find me at the mall with JUST ONE KID!!!) and I'm hoping that a group trip to the bathroom will move things along a bit more quickly.
• Thanks to everyone who commented on the baby food issue. I appreciate knowing I'm not the only one out there who thinks homemade baby food is a good idea. Brady is doing great on it so far, although he doesn't love carrots. He does love slurping pears through his little mesh baggie and has almost mastered holding the contraption himself. What a great mom I am, training my 6 month old to feed himself.
  

That's a good rundown of what's been going on around here. I've also had to deal with a Bridezilla issue that is now resolved to my satisfaction by my not attending a wedding I thought I was going to. Just a note: if you're getting married, and your mom tells my mom that it's OK to bring my infant if I need to, and so I plan on it, and arrange a babysitter for the older kids, don't leave me a snooty message telling me that the hotel has some rooms blocked for my nanny to take the baby into. Nanny? Are you kidding? Honey, if I had a nanny you can bet that I'd be using her to go to someplace better than your dumb wedding. And on a similar note, if you promise your daughter at least a month ago that you'll babysit her kids so she can attend a work event with her husband, and then you get invited out to yet another dinner party, it's rude to ask your daughter what you should do. Either flake and own up to it and deal with your guilt, or do the right thing and skip the damn party for once. Better yet, if you're planning on having children and ever asking your parents to, God forbid, watch them for an evening, make sure their social life isn't way, way better than yours.