No burrito for you. One year.

I get it now.

I must have been doing it all wrong.
All this time I've thought that being completely incapacitated by illness was enough to maybe buy me 2 hours of rest, but I now know it takes a virus AND a bacterial infection to get your point across.

I have been SO sick.

So sick that I had to call my mom, in Oakland, Friday morning at 6:20 and beg her to take the day off of work and come home early to just help me SURVIVE.

I was envisioning being beckoned to pour bowls of Lucky Charms as I sat on the bathroom floor throwing up into the toilet. Tiny hands shoving sippie cups into my clammy hands asking for grape juice.

Of course she came.
She always does. Mamas are good for that.

The sickness started Thursday afternoon with a general feeling of blah, and went full blown by that evening as I sat drinking my Weight Watcher smoothie - Something I'm now afraid to ever drink again.

I was up all night.

I will spare you the details.
Let's just say that I sent the bathroom floor a friend request and it hit "accept."

Justin, Master of Sleep that he is, slept through the whole thing without moving, and when his alarm went off, he rolled over and stared at me with his annoyingly well-rested eyes and said,
"Are you OK?!"

Uh.
No.
I've been fighting back death all night.
I'm surprised you didn't hear the Grim Reaper tap tap tapping his scythe on the tile.
Didn't you feel the bed move every 15 minutes as I got out and then in and then out again?

No. I've definitely been better.

Justin was getting up that morning to go have his first orthodontist appointment.
He's getting braces finally.
Something he's wanted all his life. He was excited and springy. He wondered where his singing woodland animals were.
I wondered why he couldn't have showered in the dark and oh gosh - I couldn't handle the smell of his body wash.
I was willing him to leave faster with my mind powers.

He did leave, and thank goodness my mom showed up just in time as the girls were waking up.

I could hear them starting to stir in their beds through the baby monitor and I froze in fear of having to even TRY to lift my fevered head off the pillow.

Mom saved the day with ginger ale and toast.
(which Tessa and Chloe took turns licking before I got to)

The whole day passed in clips.

I remember Tessa carrying off the two liter ginger ale bottle like an ant at a picnic.
I remember telling her, "No. That's Daddy's toothbrush."
I remember Chloe coming in and asking for band aids and saying something about Tessa's knee while she pointed to her elbow.
I remember that the chiropractor called saying I'd missed my appointment.
I remember feeling worried when I saw Tessa eyeing the thermometer like she was forming some sort of plan.

Then I remember Justin calling and responding, "Are you OK?" when I answered in a weak voice.

Again. No. Remember the Reaper?

What is it with men and their inability to call into reference all the man colds and splinters and boo boos they've had at times when they're wondering why on earth a 102 fever means you don't feel like you can cook dinner?

I mean, do you even WANT someone cooking your dinner who's had their hands on, or within 2 inches of a toilet for the last 12 hours? Aren't places shut down for that?

Seriously, Regis Philbin could have been standing in my bedroom holding out a check for a million dollars yesterday and I wouldn't have had the strength to stand up and grab it.

I got myself into the doctor's office, though, to have her tell me that not only did I have the flu, but I had a UTI and, oh yeah, they wanted to get me in for an abdominal CT scan this week to rule out appendicitis.


Don't be jealous.

I rested the rest of the night -
Well - Rested and watched the Celebrity Apprentice I've had saved on the DVR where Meatloaf just about rips Gary Busey's head off.
Something worth prying my eyelids open for, let me tell you.

Gary Busey's ramblings were like medicine to me.

This morning, however, I learned that one single day is the allotted time for a mother to get over two sicknesses.

Which makes sense, I guess, since a HALF day is what you get if you have just one.

Motherhood Math.

The girls woke up and started screaming that so and so was in their bed or so and so scratched them with a leapster game and crazy ME, I just assumed that since everyone had been informed of my diagnosis, I'd be given a pass on being the peacemaker and the breakfast maker.

No.

Apparently all that sleeping the night before had made Justin, well,
tired -
or something.
He didn't even hear the girls.
Or he was ignoring it and pretending to sleep.....Reverting back to the days when they were newborns, and needed midnight feedings, I guess.

Finally I got up and dragged my stiff, achy body in there with a walk that looked like I'd just finished a three day trail ride on a horse made of roofing nails.

I changed a poopy diaper.
I answered enough preschooler questions to make up for the ones I'd missed the day before.

Then I went back into our room and threw open the shades on Justin before I layed back down in the bed.

He got up for work and went into the bathroom to shower.
In my mind he clicked his heels together, but that's probably just my imagination.

"Hey, Ker? Could you pack me a burrito for lunch?"

Surely, this question was a viral hallucination.

"What?"

"Can you pack a burrito or something for me to take for lunch?"

I wanted to tell him that the only thing he'd have packed was ice on his swollen black eye, but I didn't.

I packed the stupid burrito.

But on TOP of that burrito,
with my pale, shaky hands, I placed a napkin.
And on that napkin I drew a picture of me sticking my stomach virus infected tongue out at him.

Was this action the type of action that would be given the thumbs up by a marriage counselor or pastor? No. But sometimes you just have to go for it. Let your croaky self be heard in some small way.

Hope he enjoys his lunch, because there probably won't be any dinner again tonight.

Downward Spiral Dog

Justin and I have been doing yoga once a week on Wednesday nights.
Or "Tapioca" as Chloe calls it.

I told her the "tapioca" is what Mommy's trying to get rid of....

I've just been realizing lately that though my heart and body are there for the very truest of reasons, I don't think I'll ever be one of those people who are able to quiet their mind and focus on things like
"imagining their butt has roots and their back is the stalk" and all that jazz.

It might be partially due to the fact that every Wednesday we come screeching into the gym parking lot with 2 minutes to spare.
Two minutes that we spend and then exceed with the 6 minute daycare check in procedure.
We grow more and more frazzled as we put the girls' numbers on them and take off their shoes and sign our names and show our i.d.s and make sure AGAIN that Tessa isn't trying on other kids' shoes.

Racing to do yoga is actually quite contradictory.

We try to hold our breath as we unroll our mats in the room full of already seated, closed-eyed Zen-ians. The music is quiet. All you can hear is breathing, and the sound of our shoes being flung off.

I always use that closed-eye time as a chance to size up the room.

Oh good.
There's an 80 year old man with giant knobby arthritis hands next to me.
Surely he won't show me up, Right?
Oh good.
The girl who can wrap herself in a spiral thrice over is across the room.
Now I don't have to feel like the yoga version of the evolutionary chart compared to her.

That's me on the left.

Oh good.
The mirror is mostly blocked from view.

The teacher's voice is calming enough. The music is nice. I like how she tells us to "make the best of what you've got." Something I do in my every day life.

But for the life of me, I cannot focus on what I'm sure I'm supposed to focus on.

While she's telling us to bend "one........vertibrate........at..........a........time......slowly", I'm panicking thinking surely I just did at LEAST two vertebrates as a SET that time.
Do I need to go back? Do I need to start over?

When she tells me to bend to the ground and let my head and arms hang for a nice stretch, I'm thinking, "Jeez. I really need a pedicure. How does skin even DO that?"

As we fold into downward dog, I contemplate our choice for Mexican food every single Wednesday.

Yes,
it's quick and Wednesdays are traditionally hectic, but a cup of black beans does not lend itself well to stretches designed to "ring out inner organs."

I'm sure I'm not alone.
I look at Justin and catch him bug eyed with his gaze transfixed on the armpit of the woman next to him. Or is it a beard? Hard to tell when you're in some of those positions...

I think about why it is that there is ALWAYS one girl in every yoga class who was practically BORN in the bridge position. She probably crab crawls herself to work that way every day with a smile on her face.
She ALWAYS has dark beautifully curly hair. She ALWAYS looks great without makeup. She ALWAYS has flowy, "I live for yoga and eat only organic vegan foods" type clothes.
I'm quite sure she probably drives a Subaru.
No matter what class. No matter what gym. That girl is always there.

I think about how funny it is that I once saw our instructor on a smoke break.

I wonder the name of the CD we're listening to, because I really like relaxing music at bed time and I'm always down for a good suggestion....

I think about how I wish Justin had bought me a non-primary colored yoga mat, because I'm really more of an orange or a magenta girl, then I think about how I shouldn't send him shopping alone.

Then I categorize all the odd things he's bought when he's ON his own.

I think about what other people are thinking about.

Then I think that I need to focus.
Maybe looking in the mirror will help focus me.
Wrong.

Now I'm thinking that it's weird that my hair swoops to the left on both sides like a breeze is perpetually blowing on me.

I think about how I wish my tank top were longer.

I wonder what that stain is, or is it sweat, and if it is, why would I sweat there?

I think about plucking my eyebrows.

I think about plucking the INSTRUCTOR'S eyebrows. (And believe me, she needs it.)

I think about the time Justin agreed to let me try plucking his eyebrows and how it ended in the fight.

I think about how we were watching L.A. Ink, then.

Now I think about tattoos and I wonder when that show will be back on then I wonder how Sandra Bullock feels about her ex marrying Kat and then I think about adopted babies and that Sandra looks good in white. Then I think about how I can't wear white because we're always eating Mexican food and on and on and on.

Then I look at the clock and it's only been 16 minutes.

The good thing is that by the end of the hour, I have literally run through every conceivable thought process a human mind can think. Every category. Every scenario.
By the end of it, I'm empty of anything new under the sun.

Maybe that's the whole point, come to think of it.
I end up relaxed from the exercise and almost brain dead from the mind vomit.

I leave feeling like a cave woman.

"I Kerri. Tapioca good."

It's Payback Time.

I am convinced God is paying me back.

I have tried over the years to make up for things I have done, and I'm starting to think, my family life is proof that, though He is forgiving, He is also into saying, "NOW you get it, don't you?"

We just got a new dining room table that I love so much I want to lay on it and kiss it.
We bought a nice runner and placemats and pretty gold tray with pillar candles.
It looks like adults live here.

I even cooked a nice meal tonight basically FOR the table, as
this table is too good for Progresso and grilled cheese.

Tonight, it would have herbed pork loin and roasted winter vegetables.

I was forgetting, however, the family that would eat it.

When I yelled, "Dinner's ready!" into the living room, all was as it usually is with Tessa coming screaming in like a banchee, "Dinnerth Weady! Dinnerth Weady!"
She was missing pants. She had one sock. Her hair looked like Chloe had done it.

Chloe only came after I bribed her and told her she just had to have a little.
Chloe is going through a phase where I could serve her three grains of brown rice and a lentil and she'd STILL ask if she had to eat it all.
She'd still barter to only eat two of the grains.
She climbed up and sat with her face in her hands.
The burden of the dinner-eating world on her shoulders.

Alena asked what it was.
Smelled it.
Rolled it around with her fork a bit.
Gazed at it suspiciously because it was not only white and yellow.
She asked if there were more potatos before she'd even eaten the first helping.

Once we were all seated and had told Tessa not to blow the candles out because they were there to be pretty, we asked who would like to pray for the food.

All was typical again as Chloe and Tessa fought over who would pray first - something which I hope one day they will learn goes against the very nature OF praying.
Tessa won out.

She usually does.

Chloe just sighed and went back to her forlorn expression.
Something SHE usually does.

But Tessa has started studdering lately a bit, so we all settled in for what could mean a long long prayer and possible turns reheating our dinner plates.

"Dear Dear Dear Dear Dear Dear Jesus.
Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa Fank you for for for for all the blessings.
Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa Fank you for this f f f f f f f f...."

Chloe: "FOOD, Tessa!"
(Oh gosh. Here we go.)
Tessa: "NO Cwowie! I thaying it! F f f f f f f f f f food. Fank you for Mama and Daddy and Alena and.."

"Tessa! You didn't pray for me!"
(No! Chloe! Don't interrupt her. Now she's going to want to start over!)

"Yeth I ARE, Cwowie. Dear dear dear dear dear Jesus, Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fank you for Mama and Daddy and Alena and Cwowie. Help Cwowie a not feel sick. And fank you a Tessa. Amen."

12 minutes had elapsed.

We all smiled.
Alena tried not to bust out laughing because she thinks Tessa's studder is the most hilarious thing she's ever heard, but I've threatened her about not giving Tessa a complex.

We started to take a bite, then Chloe said,
"Mama! Now It's my turn."
and proceeded to start her own prayer which is long for other reasons.

Chloe likes to make her prayers super special and specific.
She has been known to pray about chocolate chip cookies for dessert
(a worthy request) and safe family travels. The health of our pets. Possible trips to the park.
It's adorable but it can go on and on and on.

She started in and then Tessa just prayed right over her.
Each one covering their face with both hands in a very prayerful position.
Each one trying to be louder than the other.

I thought we were in a Georgia camp meeting.

Alena said they must be starting a new TLC show called, "Prayer Wars."

Finally, they felt our meal was sufficiently blessed and we all started to eat. Well. Most of us.
As I was chewing I noticed the candles flickering.
I knew with all that praying it COULDN'T be the spirit world trying to contact us, so I looked up to see Tessa's nostrils flaired and her gaze fixed on the pillar candles.
She was attempting to blow them out with her nose.
Because dramatic exhalation was her solution to getting around the instruction not to blow them out. It wasn't blowing. It was breathing with enthusiasm.
I realized she had probably been thinking about blowing them out since the moment I had told her not to a half hour before.

I would have been upset at the attempt at rule bending if I hadn't have been so amused at the development of my personal prodigy. My Mini-Me. My personal clone.

Just today when I was asked at the pediatrician's office what she'd been learning lately, I'd replied "how to be an evil genius" and was met with a surprised look.
I'm just being honest.
This kid is going to rule the world one day and she'll probably have Nutella on her face while she does it.



It's what makes it hard for me to discipline her. Because she basically IS me, just smaller.

Though not much.

I understand what it's like to just have the NEED to bother someone. It's a sickness, really. A disease. There should be a foundation for it with races for a cure.

I think it stems from boredom, really.
When you have a personality that thrives on excitement and challenge, you are driven completely insane by people who aren't.
I feel fine in bringing this to light only because I recently discovered I am not alone. My friend Hali suffers, too. It's a relief to know you are supported.

I can remember clearly being younger and sometimes just sitting and staring at my brother who was quietly watching tv.
I'd monitor him to see if he was going to move or twitch or make a sound or show ANY signs of life, and if he didn't - it was all over for him.
I'd get up just to go punch him for no good reason at all, then return to my chair.

I used to keep a rubber mail sorting thumb hidden in my room just because it was really good at grabbing the small hairs of a buzz cut and ripping them clean out.
When my mom took that away I realized the bottom of a house slipper is made out of the same material.

So I get it.
I get that sometimes you just need to see a spark.
I recognize that fire in her eyes because I see it when I look in the mirror.

It's ALSO the reason why I was also OK today when Chloe gobbled down a chocolate I was bringing home for Tessa and explained her theft with, "I was hungry."

Sometimes you are asking to get your chocolate eaten.

Oy. That kid. She makes me want to squeeze her and pull out my hair all at once.

We were laughing with friends lastnight as I told them of the time Justin and I were sitting watching tv after we'd put the girls to bed and all of a sudden we heard terrified crying coming through the baby monitor.
I went up there to see Tessa staring at the ceiling, smirking.
It was like she was just waiting to hear her tale of terror repeated outloud so that she could be even MORE proud of herself.
Chloe was trembling in the corner of her bed.
"Chloe, what's the matter?!"
"Tessa's talking to me through the bars of her crib."
"Well, so? Why is that so bad?"
"Because she's talking in a scary voice."
"What is she saying?"
"She's saying,
'Cwowie....Cwowie...You're going to have bad dreams about monsters, Cwowie. Bad bad dreams."

Evil hypnotist.

I had to explain that Tessa actually does not control her dreams.
(Something I'm not sure Tessa is convinced of.)
She thinks she controls - well - everything.

She's also grown fond of turning off the nightlight in the middle of the night because she knows Chloe is scared of the dark and she isn't.

I can remember my mom used to say to me, "One day you'll have a child that will do to you what you're doing to me."

Now I'm theorizing this was maybe more of a prayer than a prediction.

And God heard that prayer.
And answered with a YES.

Something I only DREAM Tessa will do some day.

Family. Gym. Membership.

We went in to 24 Hour Fitness today.
We've been talking about signing up at a gym.
Time to un-atrophy ourselves.

One of Justin's coworkers told us that she knew a guy there and after she placed a call she told us to go in and ask for him.
It felt exciting.
Like something out of a mobster movie.

Sort of.

We had to take the girls. All of them. Alena was out of school for a few days, and Chloe and Tessa - well - They're just ALWAYS THERE.

We had to wait on the guy who would come give us a tour. We name dropped. We did our secret handshake.

It was plenty of time for near chaos.
The girls were all over the place.
Straddling the waiting area chairs, playing tag by the door. Putting their mouths places mouths don't go - ESPECIALLY not in a gym.
Tessa almost knocked over one approximately 45 pound woman.

I guess that's not surprising.

Tessa loved it, actually.
Her eyes were full of light and excitement. She took one look at the elliptical and started skipping.

Yes, Young Grasshopper. Study them well.
With the amount of Cheese-It's you ingest, one day they will be your life line.

Justin looked around nervously. He was making his self-analyzation face.
He puts a lot of pressure on himself in places like that.
He was too busy comparing his arm width to everyone else's to notice Tessa about 2 seconds from pulling the fire alarm with a big grin on her face.

Hi.

We're the Greens.

Finally our escort came out.
All 250 pounds of rock hard muscle. I think Justin got lightheaded.
Nothing some Muscle Milk couldn't help.

We handed him some forms we'd filled out and he said,
"So - What brings you guys in today? Do you have any specific goals?"

Um.
Seriously?

We can start with not feeling about three steps away from the elastic waisted pants section in JC Penny's. How about that?

I'd like to not die.

That's another one.

Then he asked us a little about our health history and I thoroughly explained the path of being in good shape, getting married, miscarriages, three kids and about a hundred packages of frozen waffles with Nutella.

I mean, I know there are people out there who are in miraculous shape after 6 kids and all that jazz.
They are mostly people I'd like to choke, but they're there.
I'm not saying it's not possible, I'm just saying it's a little LESS possible when you're large gene pool makes all other gene pools look like blue plastic wading pools.

When other children were eating veggie dogs, we were at Nonnie's eating sandwich cookies dipped in a mixture of peanut butter and Crisco.

Our Family Crest is carved out of butter.

It's work to break the cycle.

Everyone that passed us as we stood there talking paused and went on and on about the girls.
"They are SO cute." "Adorable!"
Yeah.....I'd give you 6 minutes in a room alone with them before they'd break you.

Justin had been opposed to 24 Hour.
He'd suggested the YMCA and Stan Bennetts.
He'd said it was a meat market and it made him uncomfortable to be in there with all the oiled up Brunos and Marge's.
I told HIM it made ME uncomfortable to think of going to a gym where the one parking lot light that worked flickered and where I pictured there to be a plethora of bums wearing nothing but trench coats.

He was just sure 24 Hour would be intimidating for those who were just starting to work out.

That theory went quickly out the window as I told him to REALLY look around.
There was a couple with an estimated combined weight of 900 pounds on the rowing machines.
There was a man who had to be at least 87 years old on a spin bike.
There was a man next to him who was such a stick that if he turned sideways he disappeared completely from sight.
Then there was us.

See.
It takes all kinds.

While Justin and our guide to a new life chatted it up, the room went silent and I looked around.

This room that Tessa said "Thmelled dood."
(Which is a whole other blog because this is third in line of other strange places she likes the smell off, including the vet's office and the art store.)
This.
This would be the place where my dreams would come true.
Dreams of focusing inward.
Dreams of working on myself.
Dreams of CHILDCARE that takes place behind a partition.

Glory be!

I can actually have a moment that's all mine that extends beyond locking the door to pee.
A moment that usually STILL has a tiny voice in it saying,
"Mommy? Where did you go? Mommy? I fink I need to wash my hands now" followed by an indiscernible mumble explaining WHY.

I mean, would anyone ever REALLY notice if I checked them in to the childcare room and then just layed face down on a yoga mat "stretching" for an hour.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

I've tried exercising at home.

That is a hard thing to do when your kids scream, "HORSEY!" every time you're doing leg lifts and go onto all fours.

Billie Blanks doesn't have a dvd that allots mini-breaks for cutting apples and filling sippies and breaking up slap fights.

As it is, I think I have paused the one I have so often it's trying to self-destruct.

I'm excited about the good example I will set for the girls.
The kids need to know that Mommy actually loves a good hip-hop class.
That Zumba is not just the sound she makes the Little People bus say.

One thing did scare me, though.
On the back of the childcare area release form is a section for the kids to get write-ups of sorts if they misbehave.

I can see it now.
Me begging them to give Tessa another chance as I lecture her that sitting on others is not acceptable behavior.
Them explaining their three strikes law.

What brings us in today?

The promise of an even stronger Green Team.


That, and I may have noticed they play All My Children on the flat screen in front of the treadmills....

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.