Remain Horrified at All Times

I'm having a hard time getting back into the flow of normal life.
I guess this is always how I feel after the holidays and the start of the new year.
Sort of like - NOW WHAT?

I put so much time and energy into planning our trip to Disneyland that now that it's over I feel unsure of what to do with myself.

I took down the Christmas stuff and the HOUSE even looks confused now.

The trip was great with a side of crazy as all family vacations are.

I plan for it, though, so I'm not too thrown off when something happens that would make most people's eyes bulge.

We left the morning after Christmas at 4:00 am. I think I slept an hour that night, I was so excited.
Our intention was to get the kids into the car still asleep so that they'd sleep a majority of the way.
Wrong.
The moment their butts touched the car seats their eyes flicked open and they wanted to know where we were going and why was it dark and how long would we be in the car and could they have their sippies.

They did great, though.
Better than I'd expected.
Even with what seemed like a dozen bathroom stops at every conceivable McDonald's bathroom down the center of California, it still only took us 8 hours.

When we got there, Alena pushed the giddy little girls on the hotel luggage cart in the parking lot while we untied the luggage from the luggage rack. This was no minor feat. My dad had given me a full knot tying tutorial complete with a trial run and the wearing of a headlamp the night before, so that luggage was TIED.

I am now somewhat of a master at creating mini hitch posts out of tarp, rope, and small river rocks.
You'd think that was a skill you wouldn't really need, until you have it and you wonder how you ever tied anything down without it.

What felt like 2 hours of untying later, we were set and on our way into the hotel.
Well, that is, AFTER I comforted a sobbing Chloe who now had a black eye from Tessa head butting her in the face.
I think that may have been some sort of record.

We walked into the lobby and the girls pointed out the giant statue of Mickey Mouse, but I was too fixated to look at what they were pointing at.

My eyes were, instead, focused on the details I had failed to pay attention to when booking the hotel.

The open atrium style.
The 10 stories straight up.
The glass elevator.
The very tangible possibility of one plummeting to their death from the door to their room and landing on the hotel diners below if there was a strong enough wind.


This was not the hotel for a person deathly afraid of heights.

The girls thought the glass elevator was wonderful.
They thought it was one of the rides I'd been saying Disneyland had.

I just plastered myself to the back side, closed my eyes and prayed for my life every time we went up.
In order to survive, I had to just not even LOOK at the kids as they zipped around the hallways. I mentally measured the space between the metal railing and the width of each child's head to be positive there was no way they could accidentally slip through and plummet.

I saw one kid on the 10th floor zooming around on his Heely's and almost had an aneurysm.

Thankfully, once we were safe in our room, I could just not think about how high up we were.

The hotel was great. We just relaxed that night. We all swam and went in the hot tub and went to bed in prep for our early morning at the park the next day.

I packed up stuff and was so prepared. Mostly.
Coats and mittens and water bottles. Snacks and diapers and the ever necessary pacifier. And the child harness that I said I'd never use but that probably saved us from Tessa ending up on a milk carton.

I was NOT prepared, however, for the crowd that day.
It took forever to just get in the gates, and when we did, it made trying to get away from the scary Queen of Hearts character even that much harder as Chloe screamed and clung to Justin's hair and he shoved through people blindly.
I thought that might be a bad sign for how the rest of the time would go, but apparently the Queen of Hearts was the main focus of her fear and all the other characters were A-OK. What's weird is she's never even seen that movie....

The first day was more of a learning curve.
We learned that we did not need 5 layers of warmth each and that if we packed a little less, the girls might actually be able to SIT in the stroller, instead of us looking like the only homeless family at Disney.

We learned to use the fastpass and to make an itinerary. We learned to make sure Justin gets food regularly lest he dive into a hypoglycemic pit of despair and yell and fume at us all causing a giant scene. Yeah.......

We learned that Tessa really REALLY likes cotton candy.

But perhaps the most important lesson we learned that day was to never ever leave your stroller parked by the water if a light show of any sort is coming in the next several hours.

We parked it, then went on Splash Mountain where Alena coined the "Remain horrified at all times" phrase, and to the Haunted Mansion, and when we came back, our stroller was nowhere to be found.
We then noticed we were not the only ones looking for our stroller, and when we asked about it, we were told, "Oh. Yeah. Any strollers parked there get moved for the light show. Did you try over there? Or over there? Or did you look up in Adventure land by the Indiana Jones ride?"

Um.
NO.
It hadn't dawned on me that if I parked my stroller here by the water that when I came back in an hour it might be parked 2 miles away in the pitch black where I will never possibly find it.
Call me crazy.

We searched for that thing for hours.
A search that ended with me, the girls and my mom sitting freezing on a bench in the center of the park at almost 10:00 while Justin left a missing stroller report with security. Something which I heard all of, since his cell phone kept dialing me from his pocket and I could hear him giving the description of the stroller and what was inside.
That being our warm sweaters.
Brrrr.

The cherry on top was that while we sat, the air was filled with a smell of sewage, which I explained to my mom was most likely stagnate water from the water rides or something. Gross.
Turned out my explanation was totally wrong. Something which we didn't find out until we were on the shuttle going back to the hotel and we were STILL smelling it and only then realized it was TESSA.
That "sewage smell" was coming up the back of her pants.

And what in the heck were we supposed to do in Disneyland for two more days with two kids under the age of four with no stroller? I wasn't about to pay $400 or whatever they charge per day for a stroller rental.
I'd rather rent a lark and stuff Tessa in the basket.

At least that sounded kind of fun. And zippy. And I heard you don't have to wait in lines if you're with someone in one of those.
(Don't think we didn't think about renting one just for that fact alone.)

We spent so long the next morning dealing with lost and found. But, amazingly, a few calls later and out came Rebecca from Guest Services with our stroller.
By the time we got all that settled, however, they had closed the gates to the park and weren't letting anyone else in for the day, tickets or not. It was only 10:00am and there were already over 100,000 people there.
I guess the fire Marshall has never had to pay for three day park-hoppers for 6.

To make it up to us, Rebecca handed us a wad of ride vouchers to skip lines and free popcorn vouchers and VIP seating to one of the shows. It was awesome.

We spent the rest of that day in Downtown Disney eating the world's most expensive Mexican meal and trying to reign Tessa in.
She was losing it. I was so focused on correcting her attitude, that apparently, I walked right past some man on the ground with a completely bloodied head surrounded by paramedics.

Now THAT is true maternal focus.

Justin and my mom were commenting later on "That poor guy" and "I wonder what happened" and I was clueless.
I had been too busy saying, "No, don't eat that." and "Get up off the ground, you're going to get stepped on" to notice a massive head wound.

We decided to spend the rest of that day "resting", which actually turned more into swimming and sibling fights and going to the Cheesecake Factory where we parked what felt like 6 miles from the restaurant and walked carrying a sleeping Tessa all the way there. Very restful.
Justin looked like he was about to cry he was so tired.

We had walked for 2 solid days and we still had 2 days left.
We should have gotten sponsors and worn numbers.

The next day we got there bright and early to make sure we didn't get shut out again, but that ended up being something totally unnecessary because it was POURING.
Sane people stayed home.
We were all soaked from the time we got from the shuttle to the park.

The shuttle which was, I think, Tessa's favorite ride at Disneyland.

We made the most of it. We bought ponchos for all of us and even one for our stroller and went for it, because GOSH DARN it, we paid for this vacation and we were going to ENJOY it even if that meant hospitalization for pneumonia.


We drove cars with puddles where the seats should be, we sat on sloshy Dumbos, we visited Tinkerbell in a big wet bog called Pixie Hollow.
It was actually great. The lines were short.
Too bad we were too hypothermic to care.

My mom was almost blue.

We went back to the hotel mid day to change into warmer clothes and when we took Chloe's jeans off they had to have weighed 3 pounds from sheer water.
Poor thing.
No wonder she was making that face all day......

It ended up being one of our best days in the park, though.
Exhausting, but good.

World of Color was amazing. Too bad both little girls were passed out before it started. I tried to wake Chloe up for the show and started to worry I might need a medic with how soundly she was sleeping. I shook her and smacked her cheeks and shouted her name and nothing.
Finally her eyes rolled around and I told her to look and she mumbled something about Ariel and went back to sleep.

I'm also pretty sure I became known as the Itinerary Nazi in the family.

I had written out a schedule so we'd be able to make it to all the shows and rides we wanted.
Justin kept asking if he had time to go to the bathroom.
If that was "allowed" on the schedule.
I told him we could try to work it in tomorrow but right now we were due for our fastpass to Soarin' Above California.

We were all at the absolute height of our fatigue when we called home to our friend who was dog sitting to check on Phoebe.

This was when she told us that she was HOPING she was fine, but - and she didn't know how to tell us this - Phoebe had run away.
She'd dug out of the fence and just run while our friend had been at the store.
The neighbor had seen her get picked up by a lady in a white van and that's all she knew.
We were DEVASTATED.

That dog might be one spinning, neurotic mess, but she's OUR spinning, neurotic mess.
It was two days of hearing nothing. No new news. Two days of Alena bursting spontaneously into tears in lines for rides and people looking at her like she must be crazy. One lady said, "That's how my daughter was on this ride the first time, but now she likes it."

After all, it's supposedly the happiest place on earth.
It was a sort of torture for me to try to have fun and still enjoy our vacation while the whole back of my mind was on the dog and where she was and was she getting fed and where was she sleeping. I was hoping she wasn't somewhere throwing up on some one's Flokati.

I made Alena feel better by telling her no one else would WANT to keep Phoebe because they'd think she was insane and want to get rid of her ASAP.

Finally on the last day in the park, we got news that they had found her wandering Hall Road and someone had turned her in.
Come to find out, she'd dug out from our friend's house, dug out from the lady in the white van's house, and been picked up by a totally different family later who turned her in.
She didn't have her tags on, either, so it's a miracle she was found.
We were relieved. Alena cried when I told her.
Stupid dog. I wanted to kick her and hug her all at the same time.

And OH MY GOSH - we have never eaten so many french fries in all our days.
None of us wanted to ever see a potato product ever again.
Except for Tessa.
She's still a fan.
By the end of it, we were all fantasizing about just gnawing on entire crowns of broccoli.

It was fantastic, though. Even the crazy moments. Every sleepy fit, every Justin scowl, Every ride that Tessa would go on but the other girls were scared of...
That type of family time is priceless.

If you can survive in a 10 square foot area with all your kids, your husband AND your mom for days on end with only one bathroom, sleep deprived and popping Advil daily for your horrendous leg cramps from excessive walking, you're doing good.
Especially if that 10 square foot area is 5 floors up in an open atrium.

All in all it was a great vacation. A success.
AND I faced two of my fears -
Heights and Family Vacations where a road trip is involved.

We're Going to DIDNEYWAND!!!!!

It's been awhile since an update.

It's been a whirlwind around here with my kids and daycare kids and plays and performances, Christmas shopping, sicknesses, and trip planning.

We leave for Disneyland in 3 days.
THREE.
I'm so excited I think I finally get how people can become Disney crazed.
Well.
Maybe not.

It is all I think about, though.

I think about the look on the girls' faces as they enter the gates, the excitement when we go on the rides. I think about probably having to hold Chloe up when she spots her first princess. She's already told me, with eyelashes batting, that she wonders if she can watch a prince and princess dance and then "have true Love's first kiss."

I also think about all the things that could go wrong.

Justin in a sugar coma.

My mom neglecting to bring enough warm items and telling me 100 times how cold she is while she shoves her icy fingers against my skin and says,
"Feel. Feel how cold my hands are?!"

Tessa missing her nap and biting off Chloe's head for even LOOKING at her wrong.

Alena pouting that she has to go on It's a Small World.....AGAIN and her feet hurt and she wants a souvenir and can she please have some candy.

Me trying to shove fun down my family's throat so hard that I give myself a cramp and an anxiety attack and am found rocking in the corner of Ariel's Grotto.

I picture Justin running through the streets of Downtown Disney with Tessa's child harness on - Eyes bulging - Maniacal grin on his face - Cinnamon roll in one hand and funnel cake in the other.

I picture all sorts of things, really.

One never can go on a family vacation with their entire family which includes a toddler, a preschooler, a moody spouse, a pre-teen and their mother and NOT expect some sort of sideshow to take place.

I just think back to camping.....

I, of course, will be completely innocent. Wink, wink.

We're staying in a suite.
I have ideals about how Tessa will miraculously sleep wonderfully in a pack-n-play in a room with me, Justin, and Chloe.
I have other ideals that we'll actually get to Disneyland early and perhaps, just this once, we WON'T be sitting on the fold up couch all dressed waiting for Justin to FINALLY get out of the shower.

My heart hopes it will be better than all the commercials, and my kids' faces alone will make it worth the money we saved in order for us to be there.
My head says I'd better prepare myself for a few "moments."

It's fine, though.

What is my life without comedy that comes from every day moments?

I say BRING IT ON to all of it.
The joy, the excitement, the tears, the eye rolling, the possible throwing up on the teacups.

It'll be all the more to write about.
All the more to document and laugh over later.

I pray we even get down there without clawing each other to pieces.

My dad let us borrow his Sequoia for the trip. I just didn't trust driving the van that smells like you doused it in gasoline and shakes if you go above 50.

After driving it around town today, he may never get it back.
I LOVE it.
I will choose to just breathe in the sweet smell of leather and Starbucks coffee as we travel and overlook the fact that the DVD player has cordless headphones and Tessa keeps turning hers off then crying and saying,
"It not working! I can't heaw it!"

I just have to be OK with the fact that my mom will have to pee a LOT
and Justin will need protein in massive amounts in order to keep from going postal and driving his foot into the floorboard causing us to become a Green Family Missile zipping down I5.

He's not used to being in the car all the time with the kids.
He's not used to Cheese-its ground into the carpet.

I'm so thankful we're leaving the dog with friends. Adding her atrocious gas to all this mix would put me over the edge.

No amount of Disney Magic would be able to fix us after that kind of car ride.

So.....Wish us luck.

I'm sure I'll have plenty to tell about after we return.
Or while we're there and I sneak away with the laptop to send an S.O.S. in the wee hours of the morning.

Disneyland is getting a whole new cast of characters.

Giving Thanks

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

Normally I'm much more prepared than I am this year.
Normally I've gone out shopping days before, written out my menu, cleaned the house -Well - JUSTIN'S cleaned the house.
This year is a little more scattered.
Because I've been so sick, for the last few days there was even a question as to whether or not we'd just go out for Thanksgiving dinner.

The list of possible recipe ideas I've had over the last couple of weeks has been whittled away slowly with slash marks until all that is left are the old traditional stand by's that take no thought to prepare. The list looks like it's been censored.
I threw out the brussel sprout ragout with caramelized onions. I was sad about it, but caramelizing sounds like too much work. We'll just thaw out some corn.

I even threw out green bean casserole for a simpler green bean with almond slivers and lemon juice.

And the house looks like a bomb went off.
There are clothes on the living room floor that have been just left in the place where they were taken off last night in exchange for pajamas.
There's a half empty sippie of grape juice tipped on its side on the stairs.
And there are, for some reason, stickers EVERYWHERE.
I removed about 15 from the back room area rug this morning.

But still, it feels like Thanksgiving.

There's something in the air.
Some sort of restful peace.

It's funny.
Really, when I think about it, I've had several less-than-perfect Thanksgivings in the last several years.

Like the first Thanksgiving after I had Alena when I bundled her up in an adorable little outfit and schlepped her over to her dad's house, planning on a joyful time with this new little family we were trying to figure out, only to discover another girl's name and phone number scrawled on a piece of paper on his nightstand.
Only to discover he wasn't ready for a new little family.
I spent that Thanksgiving crying while two beautiful 4 month old eyes looked at me, confused.

Or the Thanksgiving right after my parents got separated, where we decided to have Thanksgiving at Justin's house.
He and I were still dating.
His house was neutral ground.
I would cook and all would be merry.
At least I hoped.
But both of my parents came and the mood was heavy and difficult.

And as if that wasn't enough, the oven decided to go out and would only cook everything at a 500 degree temperature.
The smoke alarm was constantly going off.
We could hardly see each other for the smoke.
I think the turkey was done in one hour.

And then there was last year when my dad was headed to meet us all in Chico at my brother's and never showed up Wednesday night like he was supposed to.
Then we got a call Thanksgiving morning.
He'd decided to leave later than he'd planned and was heading out that morning only to get in a head-on accident in Sonoma. When he called, he was just stepping out of a steaming wreck.
The other driver was dead at the scene. He was being taken to the hospital. His foot was crushed. We were all in shock and left immediately to be with him at the Napa hospital.
It was horrible and scary.
It taught us what Thanksgiving is REALLY about.
We ate hospital cafeteria salad bar for Thanksgiving dinner and then stopped at the Jack In The Box on the way back home.
Justin got called "El Guapo" by the woman in the drive through window.

All this, and still Thanksgiving is so special to me.
It still makes me warm and happy and so so THANKFUL.

I have so much I don't even deserve.

I have a God that loves me and shows me every day that I am never alone. That I am seen and heard and cared for.

I have a family that, through it's occasional dysfunction, is there for me when I need them. A family that made me who I am and I like that person.

I have a husband, that, though he has absolutely NO knowledge of relatively common song lyrics, does have a knowledge of me and accepts me for it. A husband who has made my life full of laughter and given me my children.

OH - The children.
It's hard to explain how those tiny beings could simultaneously make you want to hold them forever and also make you want to eat your own eyelashes, but they do.
I have the three most amazing, beautiful, creative, funny, fun, entertaining daughters on the face of the earth.
They stress me out and make me scream, but they also just MAKE ME.

I cannot imagine a world without them in it. How boring it would be. How lonely.
I am thankful for every maple syrup kiss.
Every walk to a bed with a warm, heavy, sleeping body on my shoulder.
I'm thankful that I'm able to read a story a thousand times.
I'm thankful that I was chosen to receive these precious unfathomable gifts.

I am thankful that, even if it is scattered with stickers and juice cups, that I have a home and that it's warm on cold nights.

I am thankful for friends - and I have some great ones. Friends who are there when I need them. Friends who show up.

I am thankful that tomorrow, no matter if there's smoke or tears or rapid-cook turkeys, that I can know that at the end of the day I will join hands with the people in my life who are more precious to me than life itself and give thanks where thanks is due.

My heart feels full.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Dear Norman Rockwell,

Well, the holiday season is upon us.

Upon me especially hard, actually, seeing as how for the last 4 days I've felt like I'm carrying around a 600 lb. bag of damp virus. Try taking THAT down a chimney.

Perfect situation when you're the one expected to be making a fabulous four fork herb butter turkey.

Even in the midst of the flu I've had, though, I have tried to take advantage of the time I have when I'm not working.

Thus, I dragged my soggy headed self into the shower Saturday morning before dressing the girls in their holiday finest to head off to the mall to see if Santa was there yet.
Of course he was.
He'd been there since Labor Day, probably.

Before we left I tried to prep the girls, because the last couple of years worth of Santa mall trips have ended with Chloe shrieking through the mall like she was the only one that knew that beneath all the stuffing and red velvet,
Freddy Krueger was actually underneath.

...........I'll never forget last year.

So, now that she's a very big three and three quarters,
I thought she might be ready. I decided to tread lightly.

"So, Chloe, Do you think you might want to just see Santa at least? Like, from the entrance of the Disney Store? Just check him out and then decide? It's the only way he'll know what you want. If you don't sit there and tell him, he'll probably just give you rice cakes or something lame."
I couldn't believe it when she said yes.

At first I didn't think she'd go all the way.
She was peering at him through a bush with big wide eyes making sure he didn't make any sudden moves. I think I may have even seen her do a quick check of a concealed weapon in her boots -
And then he sealed the deal by spying her, smiling and waving just a little.

That was all it took. We were golden.

She pushed her shoulders back, did a little hip shake and said,
"Mama! I'll do it! I really really will. I'll sit on his lap."

I was so proud.

Tessa wasn't so sure, which in hindsight I should have paid attention to.

Tessa's not scared of anything, usually, but she IS a good judge of character.
All 35 pounds of her clung to my already clammy and achy, yet holiday sacrificial body with all her might.

When it was finally our turn, and I'd explained that, No, I didn't want a $20 snap shot of something I didn't even know would happen,
I went up with them and put Chloe up on Santa's lap before I actually took a good look at him, myself.

No wonder these kids are always scared.
This was no jolly, cheerful mall Santa of yore.

This particular Santa, first of all, was missing a tooth. It was well in the back, but it was a tooth. I'm pretty sure in a shop full of elves capable of building anything a child's precious heart desires, at least ONE could make a tooth. Isn't there even a holiday classic about that?

As Chloe sat there timidly telling this so-called "Santa" about her dreams for her very own camera my gaze drifted to what was supposed to be his soft, downy cloud-like beard. It wasn't.
THIS beard was stained yellow, most likely from years of chain-smoking under the Dutton overpass.

I started getting the heebie jeebies as I realized that not only was he dry skinned and had a wonderingish eye, he seemed very uncomfortable with children.

Isn't that of #1 importance?! Shouldn't that be top on the job description?

I reached my limit when two drifter looking guys showed up at the exit side of the velvet ropes and he stopped talking to Chloe in order to motion to one of them and shout out, "Hey, Jimmy! You came back!"

We hurried out of there in a jiff. Tessa was still bug eyed and clinging to me like a baby Capuchin.

So-called "Santa" got up to bum a smoke of Jimmy.

Well THAT was a memory worth waiting in line in a clammy sweat for.

Chloe was proud, though, so I was glad.
And I felt better after she washed her hands and had some anti-bacterial lotion slathered on.

All the trolliping made my fever worse and by the time evening rolled around I felt like I'd been hit in the face with a redwood.
Thankfully my mom was home for the weekend and took care of me like good Mamas do.

This morning I woke up not feeling much better - A fact that really bummed me out because it was the day of all days at church
- The Thanksgiving potluck.-
There's no day better. It's always bliss to, just for ONE Sunday, not have the
"so where are we going to eat?" debate. (It's usually In N Out.)

Justin thought he was being helpful when he said, "Maybe you need to stay home"
This was a thought which I actually considered until he follwed that up shortly with,
"and just keep the girls here."
Huh?
Horrible, horrible, wicked, evil plan.
I didn't have the energy to hit him.

Once again, Mom to the rescue, and she went off immediately to the drug store for whatever drugs could get me up and at 'em.
By 9:30 my life had been saved by Tylenol Cold and Sinus.

I was mobile, at least.

We got up and ready and got there.
We sang and shook hands while the room spun around me.
There was a pile of tissues under my feet that looked like you'd need a team of some sort to tackle.
But gosh darn it, I was THERE.
I may have been clammy and feverish and sneezing. I may have not been able to open my eyes all the way. So what if I maybe blacked out a little. I was THERE.

After the service we ate.
Well, I ate while Tessa stuck her fingers in and out of my drink and licked them over and over and over while saying, "Is dood. I wike it."
I was too sick to care.
And she already had the sniffles too, so I wasn't being completely irresponsible.

I wasn't paying attention much to what the kids were eating. Tessa had some turkey skin. Chloe walked by with a brownie at one point. I don't really even know if they ate much of a lunch.

I was pretty focused on the white light and angelic music I kept experiencing.

When we'd all had our fill and I had had my yearly experience that is so beloved, I grabbed my purse and two jackets, a large hanging foam turkey with construction paper chain legs that Chloe'd made in class, two additional projects, the church bulletin, my mound of tissues and my water bottle.
I told Chloe to follow me and headed out the door only to realize I didn't know where Alena or Tessa OR Justin were. And Chloe HADN'T followed me.

I needed serious help by this point. As I turned around to look for them all I got dizzy and all I could do was lock eyes on my friend Dennis and just try to make it to him without falling over.

"Hey, Kerri. How are you?"
"I'm having a near-death experience. You?"

Oh. There's Tessa.
"Alena! Next time you take Tessa with you to the bathroom let me know, OK?"
"Mama. I did. I just told you. I said, 'I'm taking Tessa to the bathroom with me' and you said, 'OK."

"Oh. Well make sure I hear you or make eye contact or something. And where's Justin?
Has anyone seen Justin?"

Mind you:
By now I'm about to drop to my knees with fever and chills and projects and children tugging on my clothing. In the distance I could hear Chloe crying. People were gathering and calling my name. "Don't go towards the light!"
Chloe couldn't find me, she said. She thought I'd left. For a minute I thought I'd left, too.
Tessa was running towards the parking lot.

Where the HECK is Justin?

He was at the dessert table.
Again.

Hmph.

I think he came, finally, when he heard the helicopter circling to air lift me.

And when he did, Tessa was gone again.

I stood there with a sweaty upper lip holding half the world.
He stood there holding pumpkin crumb cake.

"I can't find Tessa. Can you please help me?!"

"WHAT? Are you serious?! How could you lose her?!"


.............................This is where I pause to just let you imagine all the things I thought, but didn't say...................................................

And now, this Thanksgiving, I would also like to add to my previous post about all the things for which I give thanks;
that:
I am thankful that you cannot be arrested for your THOUGHTS of violence.

Now I type this after hacking my brains out all evening, taking my temperature, making some tea, popping some Advil for my pounding head, singing two lullabies with a voice that will barely croak, putting two very sleepy girls to bed, teaching Alena to crochet a hat, picking up the living room, blowing out the candles, feeding all the pets, locking up the house and getting ready to go to bed.

I type this BEFORE I go up to join my husband in bed.

My husband who is already sleeping and has been for 2 hours while I did the aforementioned.

May he live to see another day.

I will close with a poem:

Twas the night of the potluck, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring. Not even my spouse.
I tried to be friendly. I said, "Hi. I'm Ker"
In the hopes that some kind soul would just stroke my hair.
The children were bouncing around in their beds
Over the monitor I heard one bonk their head
I blew in my kerchief, helped Alena make a hat
Then trudged on upstairs to tell this kid and that
That if I heard them again with all of their clatter
I wouldn't be back to ask them what was the matter
I'd just lay there heaving my big labored breath
Wondering if this was the bed of my death
What was my name? Where am I? I don't know.
It's only 8:00? You mean I've got HOURS to go?!
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Well it wasn't Justin.
My Hubby.
My Dear.
It was a chior of angels - so distant and inviting
I think I saw Heaven, as true as I'm writing.
But a pet needs feeding and so does a kid
So goodbye to the angels is what I chose to bid
There's no rest for mothers. We can't go towards the light.
So I'll keep on fighting and I'll just say goodnight.

Greek Vases, Cart Races, and Tear Stained Faces

I've definitely had better days.

Days that didn't practically kick off with sending daycare kids home with bleeding head wounds caused by an unfortunate mix of mini-blind cords and old Greek vases.

The little girl was fine.

I maybe felt even more badly for the mother - who is a couple of months pregnant and had already thrown up once today.

It was pretty much like,
"You're nauseous? Oh. Well, I have just the thing.
Come look at this bleeding head and then just as an extra gift, why don't you breathe in my dog's horrendous gas."

It was like the trauma was not going to end.

Her mom decided to take her home just to keep an eye on her and make sure her pupils stayed the same size and all that jazz. I felt awful.

After she left, I had one and a half unexpected free hours to cram full before my other two little girls came, so I loaded my cranky monsters in the car and headed off for Target for necessities such as diapers and cat food and taco seasoning.

The basics.

We raced around like we were in a shopping spree that would end in 2 minutes as to make it home in time.
The other girls were coming at 1:00.
I could picture the little family waiting on the porch for me as I came screeching in the driveway. Big brown Precious Moments eyes wondering where I was.

I was maniacal in the store, paying and entering my pin and checking my watch and saying,
"SIT DOWN" to Tessa.
I think they may have even alerted the security because I had already felt like I kept seeing a certain Target worker in almost every isle eyeing me funny.

I got funny looks from other Target patrons when we were done paying and Tessa said,
"Mama, I meed a go potty!"
to which I responded, "No you don't. You really don't."

I'm sure it sounded mean, but Tessa is not potty trained. Not even kind of.
Tessa just thinks it's fun to have you take off her diaper, fumble for a toilet seat cover with one hand while keeping HER hands out of the toilet water, and then have you sit her on the toilet for 3 seconds while you say,
"Don't touch the potty. Don't touch it." the whole time
Then she'll say,
"I all done."
without going.
Not even one drop.

I didn't have time for that game.
Some days I humor her. Some days I don't.

When I told her I wasn't taking her to the potty she threw a royal fit that did make me question -
"What if she is practically begging to be potty trained and I'm telling her no?"
but then I chucked that thought and I picked her up to carry her out.

While doing this, her shoe sole caught my shirt and yanked it down half way to my navel almost fully exposing one side of my bra. I couldn't get it free.
RIGHT in front of that two way mirror they have to the office so they can monitor what's going on.

So now, not only am I exposed, and holding my screaming toddler caveman style, I'm exposed in DOUBLE VISION holding my screaming toddler caveman style.

Fabulous.

I mean, I was ALREADY wearing flip flops and sweats with my bangs in a barrette. What did it really matter?

In an attempt to re-clothe myself, I held Tessa out in front of me as if she were toxic and then she decided to kick off her shoes completely.

I was blocking cart traffic. I was sweating. I was begging Chloe to hand me Tessa's shoes, which, for some reason, she could not see, though they were right in front of her and VERY brightly colored.

(Directing a preschooler with voice commands is, in my opinion, a task worthy of using as military torture.)

We raced home breaking traffic rules and getting honked at while the girls fought over who got to push the buttons on the DVD player in the car and I pulled in just in time to get a phone call that one of the other two little girls I watch (who are sisters) was sick and so they would not be coming afterall.

*exhale*

Maybe it was a good thing.
Well, not GOOD.
Obviously I don't want my daycare kids bleeding or feverish.
But I think Tessa's not feeling well again and when she doesn't feel well she needs all hands on deck.
She needed me to be able to pay full attention.

At least that's the signals I've gotten all day as she's writhed and cried and begged for raisins like they're laced with crack.

I should have done only that, (hold her) actually, instead of doing other things -


Like checking our bank balance.

Oy.

But, in the spirit of the Thanksgiving season, I will give thanks.

I will give thanks that along with the bleeding head wound there was no passing out or concussions or more serious of injuries.

I will give thanks that I have kids at all - Sick or beasts or otherwise - because I remember how much I wanted them. And still do.

I will give thanks that only half of my bra was exposed and that at least it was my cute black one instead of my tan granny one.
The Witness Protection Program may have had to get involved with THAT situation.

I will give thanks that no matter what kind of day we have, at the end of it, I'm always left rocking little lavendar scented headed kids to bed while their pudgy hands pat me.

I will give thanks that we may not have a lot of money, but we have what is the most important:

Love, faith, and the promise that tomorrow is a new day.

This Little Piggy Liked Portraits

I have a strong backbone.
There are few things that really truly scare me
Besides heights.
And moths.
And Donald Trump's hair.

From the time I was 10, I have always loved a good horror movie and I think Halloween is fun.

But there is one thing that strikes fear into me every single time it is mentioned, and the name of this thing is:

Family Portrait Day.

I cannot remember one solitary time that it has not ended with me eating my own hair and asking around for a Xanax.

But still, like a good mom, I schedule pictures at least once a year.

I want their experience to be different from Justin's.
Justin, who's childhood was basically him taking care of himself.
A childhood which led to us as adults sitting on his mother's couch one day looking through old photo albums and smiling as we looked at the page dedicated to his oldest brother Anthony.
Then Michael.
Then Nate.
But when we turned to what we expected to be Justin's page, it was literally completely blank.
Two blank pages in an entirely full album.
We thought maybe that was the end of the album, but we were wrong.
We turned the page and the pictures resumed.
Justin was mysteriously missing.
Almost entirely undocumented.

I am also determined to make the pictures THEMSELVES better than what I had.
They will be Un-permed.
They will be Un-mulleted.
No bright blue fake-sky backgrounds.

I mean,
It's almost criminal. Right?

This is the precise reason my bag of tricks for getting the girls ready includes flat irons and tweezers and bobby pins and concealer.
Fruit snacks and toys and clowns on unicycles.
A book of magic. A sack full of props.
I want them looking good and looking at least MODERATELY happy.

But no matter how much I prepare and plan and plot and shop for outfits, we ALWAYS end up stressed out, snapping at each other, re-pinning hair and dashing around the house in a mad search for The Coupon.

This time was no different.

Justin had to work the morning I'd scheduled the girls, so it was all on me.
I laid out their clothes the night before.
I sat down and plotted what hairstyles they'd have and what I'd need to bring to keep Tessa calm and centrally located.

I told Chloe we were going to have "Princess pictures" because I've learned from experience and trial that if you insert the word "Princess" into basically everything, she thinks it's great and she is convinced she just HAS to do it.

"Look, Chloe. Mommy made PRINCESS spinach."
I set my alarm for 3 hours before the appointment and thought I'd be sitting around with cucumbers on my eyes I'd have so much luxurious time to kill.

Wrong.

The morning was off and running when Chloe pryed my eyelids open and begged for breakfast. Typical enough.
Alena needed her shirt ironed. The dog threw up. Tessa woke up. The dog threw up again.
"ARE THERE NO MORE PAPER TOWELS?!?!"

I ironed and cooked and got showered and did hair and sprayed hair and found shoes and packed snacks.
I did almost everything but write a will. (And looking back, that might not have been a bad idea.)
I raced around like there was a million dollars at stake and when I was in the end stretch and had completely redone the girls hair AGAIN
(Because doing somersaults around the living room has a tendency to mess up a good do)
I got in a fight with my mom.

(Because, really, what's a good family picture day without at least one fight beforehand?)

Everything was done.
Finally.
I looked around and it looked like a bomb had gone off in a department store and then vandals had egged the aftermath.
Good thing Justin was gone.

I shoved the girls in the car and threatened them about all the bad that would become of them should they ruin or pick at their hair.
I basically told them to hold their breath and not blink for the 3 miles we'd have to drive to the studio. And don't tell me ANYTHING is "itchy."

We came screeching in the parking lot with one minute to spare only to walk in and have the lady tell us that she was running late and it would be another 20 minutes at least.

Oh good grief.

We were there 6 minutes and already Tessa had said, "Mommy, I go home." 15 times and Alena had checked the mirror at least 7.

"No, Alena. I can't see through your shirt.
Yes, I'm sure. Your bangs look fine.
Trust me.
I DO know something. I picked out your outfit, didn't I?"

Oh. Thank God.
It's our turn.
We're going in.
Everyone is smiling and it seems like this MIGHT actually work.

Wrong again.

Tessa did not love it.
Didn't like it or even SORT of want to tolerate it.
The only way I could get her to hold still for more than 2 seconds was to practically throw fruit snacks at her like a caged animal.
If one was to pan out from the shots we got, they would see bags of empty fruit snacks strewn about like shrapnel.What she wanted to do, apparently, was lay down on her stomach sprawled eagle with her face buried in the drape.

Alena and Chloe did great on their own, but then the group shots came.

Oh the group shots.

If one wasn't pulling the other's flower out of their hair, then they were poking each other's eyes or putting their hands in each other's face just as the flash went off.
"Tessa's squishing my leg."
"I was blinking."
"Chloe! Stop. Stop. STOP."

When one would smile, another looked like they'd been on a four day bender.
When one looked at the camera, the other was looking at them.

It is seriously easier to capture and pin down a wild ostrich - and yes - I have actually had to do that before, so I know.

When we left we walked to Sees to get the photographer some sort of gift as bribery so that she'd allow us back next year.

When we came back to look at our proofs there was a family in the hall soothing a screaming baby in a pig costume, rolling their eyes and discussing maybe having to try another day.
Oh good. We're normal. Ish.

I guess when I really think about it, it's the funny pictures that maybe DIDN'T work out so well that end up being the favorites anyway. Those are the ones you really remember.

Like Alena's two year picture where she was scared of the back-drop, so the only way she'd get a shot was to be holding my hand for dear life in the picture.



Or my brother's second grade one where for some reason the photographer kept telling him to lean a little further over...now a little more....and a little more, until he is completely diagonal in the shot.



Or my friend Natalie's kids' Christmas Santa picture where Santa is smiling, but all three of her toddlers are screaming like there's a massacre going on.

It's about real life.
Not about no stray hairs.

It's about documenting the crazy.

Keeping the memory that at this point, right here,

THIS little piggy liked fruit snacks.

Species: Twinnicus Best Friendula

I've been so busy the last couple of days that I haven't had a free moment to properly document the happenings.

And believe me, there's much to document.

Anytime my best friend Lisa is in town, things happen.
Or maybe things mostly stay the same but they're just more fun when she's here.
It is not uncommon to have physical pain lasting days from the laughter we have together. I've actually torn muscles before.

Lisa's flight came in on a Wednesday, so we worked it out that I would pick her up from the airport and then we'd stay in a hotel that night for a sort of mid-week girls' weekend.

Just me and her, a notepad to fill with our genius ideas, and time that stretched out before us.

I headed out that morning with a coffee in hand for the drive to the city.
All was perfect.
Great music on the stereo, coffee in hand, no fighting in the backseat, a break from the Yo Gabba Gabba cd on repeat.
Just the view of the Golden Gate bridge peaking up above the fog like a postcard made it worth it all.

(I am omitting the part that happened here about my tire pressure light going on, me having visions of dying in a fiery blaze due to a blow out and driving around Novato for what seemed like forever in search of a tire shop.)

45 minutes after crossing the bridge, there she was - standing out in front of the airport.
Her 14 suitcases filled with fabulous fashion and makeup and one Toy Story guitar laying beside her.
She was doing her half pucker/smile that means,
"Hello. I can't WAIT to see what kinds of shenanigans await us."

Our hotel was close by, but before we checked in we decided to grab some lunch since she hadn't eaten in 10 hours and the mini package of Disney fruit snacks I had dug out from the recesses of my purse weren't cutting it.

If we had been in the van there would have been plenty to snack on.
Stale Cheerios stuck to the side of the floorboard, old half licked lollipops, a few fuzzy raisins, and for the REALLY desperate -
An entire cup of dried coffee that could potentially be sucked out of the console carpet.
BUT, we were in Justin's car.
Captain Cleanliness.

He may even dust his registration......

The fun began when we were seated and our waiter appeared, having only one eye open and asked us if we 'had any questions.'
Questions about the FOOD, or questions about....er....OTHER things?
....Like, say, the status of his eye.

Lunch was spent laughing and catching up on all sorts of tales that to an innocent bystander may have sounded like folklore, and then ended with the always standard conversations on current hair color opinions.
Questions like, "But does it make me look Goth?" and "Do I look like a jr. higher?"
She assured me my hair was not brassy.
Now that is a true best friend.

We checked into our hotel next door and headed off to find our room.

And find it, we did.

We drove slowly looking at the room numbers on the doors.
Just great, we thought, the cleaning cart was out front and the door was open.

Did they give us a room that wasn't even clean yet?

Lisa offered to get out and examine what was going on, and I sat there in the running car watching her tap the half opened door lightly and then go in saying, "Hello?..."

She was in there for awhile.

I started to wonder what was going on, when suddenly she reappeared with bulging eyes and a traumatized expression, making a bee-line for the car.

"WHAT?! What happened?!"
"Ummmm. Ummmmm......."

"Lisa. Seriously. WHAT?!"
"There's someone in there."

"Are they cleaning still?"
"Um. No. They're taking a dump. In our bathroom."

*pause here for an opened mouth*

"WHAT?!"
"Yeah....There is a maintenance man in our bathroom, going poo."

"Going poo?! How can you know that?"
"Ker.......He had the door open. He made EYE CONTACT."

Then she told the tale of how the maintenance man,
who we later found out was named Jaime,
had heard her calling out, cracked open the door, looked her in the eye as he sat on the pot and begged - "Five minute. Five minute."

That was five minutes we did NOT give.

It really wasn't my desire to check into our room and have to light a match immediately upon entry. If I have to smell it, I need to have a personal relationship with the person who did it or I'm a no go.

We went back to the front desk and promptly requested another room telling the concierge that there was still someone in it.
He pulled out his radio.

"Jaime! Jaime! Are you in room 184?"
"Uh....All done, Boss. All done."
"What were you doing in there?"
"Um.....I had to fix something, Boss. Small thing. All done now, Boss."
"Why did you not report that there was something that needed repair? I don't see a maintenance report!"
"Finished now, Boss. All done."

Regardless, we got our new room - sans stench - and it was great.

Our trip was filled with what all trips with Lisa are filled with - Unreal amounts of laughter, nail painting, makeup, fabulous ideas that have potential to make us millions, and pictures.

There was even an event of getting kicked out of the pool because apparently it was for laps and not just having a good time.
Hey. I'm sorry if I'm not doing laps.
It's hard to do laps AND have a discussion about the couple swimming in the pool with flippers on.
I mean - WHO wears flippers in a hotel pool?
Clearly they HAD to be European.

I cannot possibly go into detail about everything that we did, but I can say it involved someone trying to break into our room, and later us getting locked out of our room in our pajamas at 2am, Some cheesecake and a colorful metal bird.

The fun continued the next morning at Starbucks where we stopped for coffee before a day of jewelry shopping.

It was one of those days when everything was funny and fun.
The sun was shining. The air was fresh.
We were about one woodland creature away from a Disney forest dance scene.

I think the Starbucks cashier wanted to clock out and come with us wherever we were going because she was so busy ogling Lisa's outfit and saying how fun we were that the line was building up and wrapping around the counter.
Ventis be darned, she had girl talk to do.

I was starting to worry we'd be mobbed for blocking up the line.
WAS worried until a lady literally got out of line and came over to us to tell us that she needed to let us know that we were so infectious with our laughter and fun that we were making everyone around us happy.
That everyone in line had been discussing that we had made their day with our happiness.
That will forever remain one of my favorite compliments of all time.

There would be no mobbing after all.
And I think I almost saw the glimmer of a tear in the cashier's eye when we walked away.

Then - we shopped.

We got rings at the Lucky counter.
Hers, a very Kat von D-esque ring that takes up half her finger and - to put it as she does - "Quite possibly has magical powers."
Me, a snake ring that would make Cleopatra tremble with delight.


It was great.
They may possibly make a movie out of it some day.

And that was just the beginning.
With Lisa, going to the drug store is an adventure.

There could not be a better Best.

It's just so nice to be GOTTEN.

To have someone just GET why it's funny to give people Latin names such as
"Wispus Albinus Tropicalis" if they wear an entirely tan Bahama outfit with a straw hat and have a white wispy beard.

Or "Matrimonius Twinnicus" for the couple who look more like brother and sister than lovers.

She jumps in.
She contributes fabulously.
She is the single funniest person I've ever met and the two of us combined almost cause implosions of joy.

She completes me.

When she left to head back to Toronto yesterday, it was all I could do not to plaster myself against the glass of our front room window and mouth
"TAKE ME WITH YOU." as she drove away.
But I have my dignity. At least SOME of it.

Friendlisa Fabulosa.

She had me at Hello.