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Radio Silent

26 Aug

Whine: I feel a little guilty. I should be rustling up some grub for my posse instead of writing.

Cheese: They’re not going to eat it anyway (we’re having fish). See? It’s magic. The guilt is gone.

I am not unaware that my most regular posting streak has been interrupted by a most unfortunate lapse in any and all communications. If I were a spy (which I totally am in my fantasy life) and my blog were a sat-phone, the last few weeks would be what we spies call “radio silent.” Which is a tactic by which a super-smart (and ridiculously good looking) spy decides to throw her enemies off the trail by no longer communicating with command central. Which is totally why you haven’t heard from me in such a long time.

While I’ve been out thwarting dastardly plans for world domination, life in my house seems to march on. Brother Bear continues his improbable growth spurt. 28+ inches at his four-month checkup. Which explains his ongoing need to wake me in the night. Last night’s hourly awakening being no exception. Except the night before, he slept all night. Which just goes to show you that he is quite clever, because he knows that changing up his attack each night will be the quickest route to insanity for me and therefore I will be pathetic and defenseless and prone to feeding him whenever he makes even a tiny peep. And yes, I am complaining about him sleeping through the night. Hate me if you must; it is very hard to save the world when you are sleeping in 1-hour increments, although it never seemed to bother Sydney Bristow.

Apparently all this world-saving has me neglecting proper nutritional education, as Lil’ Sis just pulled a lime half out of my drink and said “I love cherry limes” right before giving it a big lick. Yes, she thinks they are called cherry limes, since she only ever sees them at the bottom of my 44oz styrofoam cup.

Another byproduct of my super-awesome alter-ego is that there is quite a heap of big news to share, but I’ve been too busy kicking bottom and taking names (this is a g-rated blog after all) to share it.  So here are three of the biggest news items, in no particular order.

1) I have a job. It pays.

2) I have a ‘new’ vehicle. It does not require that the three car seats be stuffed end to end in the back seat.

3) Lil’ Sis is 95% potty trained. Goodbye Pull-Ups.

Both item #1 and #2 seemed to drop out of the sky and into my lap. #3 is as big surprise to me as it is to you.

The job is very part time. It is for my church, working with the elementary kids’ program. And every day is Bring Your Brother Bear To Work Day. Which is especially awesome, as I sit through a planning meeting with Slurps/Burps McGee attached to me. But it works for us, and I (ahem) LOVE my new boss.

The vehicle is new to us. It’s a minivan and it used to belong to some very generous people who also happen to be closely related to me. (In other words, my parents got sick of watching us cram their precious grandkids into the back of a sedan and gave us their car.) It is so much easier to get from Point A to Point B without having everyone have to hold their breath just to fit in the back seat. Also, the lock has a clicker. Which I realize is soooo 2001, but my old car didn’t have one, so I’m just saying it’s nice since I usually end up trying to unlock my car looking like a pack mule and/or bag lady (it’s one of my undercover disguises, you know).

And Lil’ Sis has just decided to make my life easier. At least in the bodily fluids department. I still clean up messes from time to time, but she has pretty much single-handedly potty trained herself. And for that, she will get a car when she is 16. (The minivan will still be running then, right?)

We have been jetsetting and swimming and living it up this summer, and I sure hope I eventually get a post out of that excruciating day of travel (only one excruciating day of travel? surely you jest.), but first we have to go on one last road trip because the all the other ones we just finished weren’t enough. And also because fantasy football drafts are just better when you’ve driven 8++ hours each way over a long weekend to do them. Heh.

My name is Aaron and I like to boogie. At 5 AM.

We got free hamburgers for dressing like this. So there.

A picture of my uber-blonde alter ego. But shhhhh, don't blow my cover.

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Episodes in Freaking Out: Swine Flu Edition

30 Apr

Whine: Stupid, freaky, weird swine flu. Why’d you have to come to Fort Worth?

Cheese: Big Sis is really into ‘exercising’ these days. This consists of putting her hands and feet on the ground and sticking her bottom as far in the air as she can. Let me just tell you, this is hilarious. Is that what I look like when I exercise? Nevermind. Do not answer that.

 

Swine flu. Until yesterday, my thoughts on the dreaded virus amounted to nothing more than a puncline. Then Fort Worth cancelled school-for at least ten days-and my freakout began. When I found out, my kids were with Grandma (aka Grandma Cookie) for the evening. At that moment, all I wanted were my kids with me so I could hold them, make sure they were ok, and then possibly disinfect them from head to toe, maybe not in that order.

I have since regained the capability of rational thought (due in part to seeing that both my babies are very healthy), but the “outbreak” got me thinking about all the random and weird things I fear. And since you all serve as my personal confessors, I will share a few with you today:

 

1) I am afraid that one day I will run over my mailman. Or anyone else. But especially my mailman, as he has a walking route and could very easily slip right behind my car, escaping my notice, which is easy to do when your backseat is filled with children who think they are birds. Very loud birds.

 

2) I am afraid of missing out on anything. Some of my friends make fun of me because anytime we are discussing television or movies, I know about every show that comes up (and possibly every one that has ever existed from 1986 to now.) I tend to keep up with pop culture and gossip for that very reason. I am also usually the last one to leave an event and the last one to go to sleep at a slumber party, even if this means that I stay up until 1 or 2 or 3 am, and then get violently ill the next day from sleep-deprivation. (Although last time I did this, my sweet hubby let me sleep in and brought me donuts and a latte. He’s such a cute little enabler.)

 

3)I am afraid of parallel parking. This is actually a rational fear because I am terrible at parking.

 

4)I am afraid of being bored. Truly afraid. The idea of being bored feels to me like a giant elephant is sitting on my chest and squeezing the air out of me. So I don’t stay in one place very long, which leaves for lots of great “ideas” and quite a few unfinished projects. But now when I’m bored, I just think of things I could be blogging about.

 

5)I am afraid of hair. Not the hair on my head or yours, but the loose hairs that gather up in corners with the dustbunnies or in the shower drain. Touching those random globs of hair makes me gag and I generally refuse to do it. Lucky for me, I don’t have much hair and don’t shed all that much, cause if I did, I might just shave my head.

 

What are you afraid of?

Have You Ever?

9 Jan

Whine: I must confess, I’ve been avoiding my little blog. I have so many things whirlilng around in my mind, Funny! Amusing! Alarming! things. And I guess I decided that if I couldn’t write them all, I wouldn’t write anything. Not to mention that our house has been  Grand Central Station for every virus in the world for the last few weeks, so I’ve been up to my ears in well, you don’t want to know. But I’m here now, and I must say that I’ve missed you all.

Cheese: Just sitting on the couch, listening to the tumble tumble of the dryer, watching basketball and savoring my Christmas candy (Hot Tamales) and Diet Coke.

 

Today we’re going to play a little game I like to call “Have You Ever?” mainly because I’m trying to give you a snapshot of what you’ve been missing, but also because I’m hoping someone else out there has done at least one of these things so that I don’t feel like such a weirdo.

 

Have you ever. . .

. . . had to sort your shoes into two piles: barfed-on and not-barfed-on? Why did she run into my closet and then vomit??

 

. . . put yourself in the “line of fire” so to speak, so that your baby didn’t vomit all over your carpet? What?!? I had just gotten it cleaned.

 

. . . tucked your child in bed wearing the clothes they’ve been wearing all day, then gotten them up the next day and left them in the same clothes? Yeah, I’m that kind of mom. The lazy efficient kind.

 

. . . discovered that since you’re going to have to discipline your little one, you’d better stop cracking up first?  Sometimes even their naughtiest moments are adorable. Especially if they happen to be clad in their red footie pajamas at the time of the offense. Everything is cuter in red footie pajamas. Except cockroaches. Even footie pajamas can’t make a cockroach cute.

 

. . . eaten just one Hot Tamale? Me neither.

Quick Hits

5 Nov

Whine: Lil’ Sis has her very first ear infection. And first amoxicilin. And the resulting digestive unrest. But at least her ear feels better!

Cheese: Gruyere. Definitely gruyere.

 

Ok, ok, I’ve got to admit I’ve been tuned into the election ALL NIGHT (ok, ok, technically not ALL night, but some of it) and the crazy graphics and red and blue flashing lights and prognostications and victory speeches have kept me from writing (or maybe I was watching dvr, but that’s neither here nor there). But, now that the fat lady has sung (and my show is over), I return to you, my loyal readers, to entertain and enlighten.

But since it is, in fact, late-o’clock, I will employ a little writing technique I like to call quick hits, thus removing any need for cohesvie thought. Our quick hits tonight are brought to you by rocky road ice cream and two sleeping children.

 

Tonight I . . .

. . . saw a hologram. Yes, you heard me correctly, a hologram. CNN had one of their anchors piped in via hologram!?! I felt like I was watching the original Star Wars (circa 1977). “Obama, you’re our only hope. . .” If you want to watch it, click here.

. . . am hoping that people of both colors (red and blue, that is) will decide to act like grown ups in the after-math/glow of this election and play nice. Ugly words don’t change history or presidents whether they are coming in or going out.  

. . . made a delicious quiche. Made of roasted red and pablano peppers, covered in gruyere cheese, surrounded by a flaky cheddar crust. Mmmmmm. And it’s true, real men do eat quiche, even Mr. Dad liked it.

. . . played backgammon and lost. Repeatedly. Grrrrrr.

. . . watched the girls’ play together, so sweet. Actually, we were walking (on a 72-degree November evening- I love Texas!) and it actually went more like this:  Lil’ Sis pulling Big Sis’ hair from the back seat of the double stroller and grinning, Big Sis turning around and thumping Lil’ Sis on the cheek in retalliation and grinning, Mr. Dad threatening Big Sis with a thump on her cheek (ow!) and scowling, Big Sis turning around, thwarted, and Lil’ Sis smiling mischeivously, like the little puppet-master she is. Oh, I am in trouble here, I know it. Don’t need a crystal ball to see that.

Well, tomorrow I hope to drag this tired mom-body to the gym so I can pretend to exercise. I have honed this valuable skill so that I can use the free child care while I take a stroll and watch HGTV, all while barely breaking a sweat.  But pretending to exercise requires just as much beauty sleep as real exercise, so I’m headed to bed.

Partly Crabby with a Chance of Tears

27 Oct

Whine: Sleep-deprivation and skipped lunch a pleasant Sarah do not make.

Cheese: Had no choice but to snuggle both Big Sis and Lil’ Sis at various points today. Totally redeems both of them for double-teaming me last night.

 

I love my children, I do. Except last night when Big Sis, high on DumDums and pure ladybug adrenaline (that was her costume at Trunk or Treat) refused to give into her exhaustion until 11:00. PM.  Then Lil’ Sis opted to wake up and have coughing fits from 3 to 5. AM.  I, like most humans (and unlike my robot husband) do not function on low-levels of sleep. So this morning we were one crabby bunch (not robot husband, he’s rarely crabby). There were lots of tears, on-the-floor-kicking-and-screaming fits and a few snotty comments. And that was just when my husband tried to wake me up.

But we made it in time to drop Big Sis off at school. I felt the crabbiness creeping up as I saw my total at the grocery checkout. So I headed home and made a beeline to my new BFF–my 2-cup coffee pot. Ah, the greatness of chemically-induced cheer. (How am I just now discovering this??) Lil’ Sis required my Immediate! Attention! All! Morning! Hence, no lunch for Mommy. I knew things were getting bad when I read a story about a lady climbing a rock wall and I started crying.  

But things, as they tend to do, worked themselves out. I foraged through my (very expensive) bags of groceries for some lunch. I called a friend to talk me down off the ledge while I waited for my blood sugar to revive. Then Lil’ Sis had another coughing fit and the only thing I could do was sit in my easy chair and snuggle her (ok, and maybe watch a little DVR, I’ll be honest.)

The children and I had a lovely walk in the just-barely-fall weather. Grandma made twice-baked potatoes for dinner. Mmmmmmmm. I had two. Lil’ Sis had some and rubbed it into her red hair.  Big Sis let me snuggle her to sleep. I closed the evening with a few peanut m&ms (ok, maybe almost a whole package, I’ll be honest) and a little blogging. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Now I’m headed to bed, feeling like the bad weather is past. Wait, is that coughing I hear??

That New Blog Smell

24 Oct

Whine: I found a sippy cup today. In the laundry hamper. Filled with chocolate “milk.” Carbon dating suggests it had been in there approximately a week (since that’s how often I check the hamper. . .)

Cheese: Caught Big Sis* doing the hokey pokey while in the bathtub this morning. That’s what it’s all about.

 

Welcome to A Little Whine and Cheese! It does have that new-blog smell, doesn’t it? So full of excitement and high expectations. I’ll be posting all the time. Witty, poignant, and insightful. You’ll be commenting faithfully. Also, witty, poignant, and insightful. It’ll be blogging nirvana.

I’d better be careful in my blogging euphoria, though, I don’t want to get taken advantage of by schmucks like this. Good thing I’m married, huh? Ooh, but that link makes me want some candy. (This will be a common theme here, I suspect.)

Sure, it’ll be all bells and whistles for a while. The fan club, the gifts, the stalkerazzi. But soon I’ll realize that this thing is the energy-guzzling equivalent of my mom’s Ford Expedition.  I’ll be hiding out in my metaphorical garage, waxing and shining the hood, avoiding my hungry husband and children, wishing they could just understand why I need to check my stats just one more time. And the pressure (oh the pressure!) of making each post just a little more witty, a little more clever than the last. 

But I’m not going to be a party pooper, sucking all the enthusiasm out of this special, special moment by thinking too far ahead. I’ve got a cute blog and smart, loyal readers (is the flattery working?) So I’ll just take a deep breath and enjoy the scent of new leather and anticipate all the journeys we’ll be taking together.

 

P.S. Don’t forget, if you ever have a whine or cheese of your own to leave them in the comments section–whine and cheese are always better enjoyed with good friends.

 

*Big Sis is my 3-year-old daughter, not my actual big sister. That would have been awkward!