Wordless Wednesday - 2 Reasons for a Shotgun

Fashion Tuesday

Anatomy of a Confusing Weather Report:


Weather.com advises me it will be in the low 70's today. Hooray! We have a playdate planned with other kids starting Kindergarten this fall. Here's the first attempt at dressing for a park playdate:


You will ignore the fact that my entryway resembles a preschool classroom. Focus on the fashion, people!

This outfit features prominently in Loodle's repertoire. Orange and pink are a much beloved combination. And no park playdate is complete without a sparkly princess purse filled with god knows what. Definitely NOT sunscreen, hat and snake bite kit.

Upon setting one foot outside, it was determined that a jacket would be necessary, as it was WINDY with a slight chance of more wind and a brisk 50-something degrees. Here's her jacket of choice:




Let's see it's full functionality up close, shall we?


Words failed me in regard to the color/pattern choie so I merely told her that if you can SEE through it, the wind can WHIP through it.



Here's the final park going outfit of the day:


Yes, the blue abomination to fashion "jacket" was still worn underneath the sweater. A girl's gotta have her standards.

Am I Too Late?

I kind of missed the boat on the morning after Oscar post. I meant to get to it last night, and then I didn't. Well, if you're still interested, here's what I thought about the show. And by the show, I mean what everyone was wearing, because really, isn't that why we tuned in?

(All photos courtesy of oscar.com) (I don't know if I'm obligated to list that, but I figure they probably have more lawyers than I, so I'll cover my bases)



Most Confusing Dress, And I Have to List It First Because DAMN:


Tilda Swinton, new rep for Glad.



People Who Rocked It:



Isn't Diane Lane like 57 years old or something? If only I were aging as beautifully as she. And I only hate her a little bit for it, but I hate her a LOT for also having her arm around Josh Brolin.







Another beautiful couple, Forest Whitaker and his wife. Sorry FW wife, I can't remember your name, but you looked awesome.






Julie Christie cannot look any better. LOVE the color of that dress. If I could, I'd drink it. She is so classy.





Personally, I thought Marion Cotillard totally pulled off this mermaid dress.





Yes, she only weighs 9 pounds, but Calista Flockhart looks awesome in this dress. The hair, the makeup, it all worked for me.





Seems a lot of people were ragging on my secret girl crush Katherine Heigl's makeup. Must I remind them that they were under a humid tarp, and some women actually "glow" when it's warm? I think the picture doesn't do her justice. She looked gorgeous.




I think Hillary Swank could wear a trash bag (hey, borrow Tilda Swinton's dress!) and look stunning. I hate her. No I don't.



Those That Missed the Mark:



Amy Adams looks awesome from the bust neck up, but after that, I'm not on board. I think I'm totally biased after seeing her display her purse to Ryan Seacrest and show him that there was nothing in it. As someone who highly values functionality, please, for the love of God, put a lipstick and a stick of gum in there.







I know, Jessica Alba's very pregnant, and she needs some slack. But feathers? No.





I know, again, Cate Blanchett = pregnant. But what is up with the neckline fabric? The skirt? Very pretty. The top? Not my cup of tea.





Nope, Cameron Diaz just came across as wrinkly. And what was up with that weird seam on her derriere?





I think Nicole Kidman's hair is aging about 15 years ahead of her. Maybe I don't know enough about redheads and their follicular challenges, but her hair is getting worse and worse.







Heidi Klum really went for it. Oh, I so want to love this, but the boob shelf throws me every time.





Viggo Mortensen is hot. Really hot. But on Sunday? Really not. The only thing redeeming him was bringing HER to the Oscars:








Sorry, Kelly Preston. Never got past my initial thought upon seeing you step out of the limo: "I could totally go for an Orange Creamsicle right about now."





None of Renee Zellweger's choices worked for me here. Especially the hair, which I watched her brush back across her forehead about 937 times.


And there is one notable absence in my list of those who missed. I just couldn't bring myself to publish another picture of Jennifer Hudson's dress. Meg, we are so in agreement on this one. And after LAST YEAR'S dress, I didn't think it could be worse. So, in order to ease her pain, I will refrain from showing her creation yet again and save her that little bit of further mockery.

Things of Note from my Weekend

Biggest note: The Man came home from his business trip yesterday. Huge sigh from me. Finally, a good night's sleep and a chance to sleep in for me. Oh, and the girls missed him too.

Note 2: Loodle pulled a nutty and woke me up at 3:30am this morning with some bizarre noises heard coming through the walls. Having never heard these noises, I rudely woke The Man up and made him go investigate. Turns out she was under her bed trying to plug in her "Whopper Bopper" Ikea night light. I don't know why, and neither does she. All I know is I was up, and so was The Man. Thank you DVR for having 9 episodes of Friends from which to choose when you're up in the middle of the night.

Note 3: Went out to lunch at our local eatery, which happens to have a kids play structure and open grassy area right next to the patio dining (sigh, The Man and I get to actually converse while the hellions children play). A group of kids come in with two moms, and I unfairly size them up as the golf course, entitled moms. This is what I overhear the mom saying when their approx. 8 year old daughter and couple of the boys are sitting at the table: "That's her choice. She doesn't want to look her prettiest. She just wants to leave her hair like that. Fine. She won't look her prettiest." I had to glance over, and her darling, beautiful daughter could not look any sadder. What an ass.

Note 4: I let both girls ride in the front seat from the mailboxes to our house, and yesterday they were discussing a friend. I happened to glance over just as Loodle said this girl was "showing off" her "new clothes". My use of weird quotes here? That's when my five year old was using air quotes! AIR QUOTES!

Note 5: It was 79 degrees here today. In February. The girls spent the morning in bathing suits in the driveway washing my van and playing with a 20 gallon tub of water. After lunch they rode scooters at the local park, and before dinner they splashed around in the pool. In February. Not the winter I had been expecting when we moved to Texas.

Note 6: I have no one to watch the Oscars with. I am desolate. The Man was trying to force me out of the house so he would not be subjected to it all, but I have nowhere to go because all the cool Oscar watching people are back in California where I left them. That was stupid of me.

My Ideal TV Boyfriend

Who is Your Ideal TV Boyfriend?

More on Gossip Girl. Created by BuddyTV

I don't watch this show, but in order to get to know my new TV boyfriend, I think I should add Supernatural to my TiVo. I am going to ignore the fact that I will be dating a boy man who has yet to know the pain and turmoil of turning 30. I'm also going to ignore the fact that he's prettier than I.

And the description of him? Freakishly similar to The Man. He's got some competition now.

Wordless Wednesday

Alternate Title: Here's how to cool off after a knock down, drag out fight with your 7 year old, and your husband has been out of town for all of an hour and a half:




THE MAN (and Loodle)



ME



BOODLE



LOODLE

Warning: Commence Skin Crawling

They were wrong. THIS is what severed underwater cables last month and took down the internet throughout Asia.

Fashion Tuesday. Or Not.

Fashionwise? I got nothin'. I think Loodle's lost her creative spark. Her clothing choices of late have been uninspired. Things match. No aggressive print/stipe combos. No wacky hair.

So, instead I give you this slice o' life.

Last week in the van on the way somewhere, Loodle declares to me that she no longer enjoys staying home with me. It's boring, and all we do is go shopping. Um ouch. I discuss it a little further with her, and then proceed to cry silently at the waste I've been making of our time together.

She's SO easygoing, that it is easy to take advantage of the fact that she's perfectly content to sit and play computer games for two hour stretches. Gives me time to do dishes fold laundry read blogs and noteworthy news. I have been deeply involved in these activities of late, and she's been suffering.

The scary thing is this is exactly what I am trying to avoid when she starts kindergarten next year. She already reads, writes, does simple math, and I fear she will become bored, unchallenged. No worries, I've already gotten her used to that. Idiot.

So, after drying my tears and wallowing in self-loathing, I got on the internet (while she was sleeping this time), and got some curriculum ideas. Then, we took a trip to our local teacher resource store and picked out some simple reusable supplies to facilitate some learnin'.

Side note: While I was shopping, I broke the rules and left her in the reward aisle where they have bins full of tiny choking hazards reward toys. Supposed to watch children at all times, don't let them play with merchandise. Whatevah. I came back to check on her, and she had lined up a massive insect army that was facing off against two bad insects. Amidst the army, a large foam tooth was fighting along side a dinosaur. As I started to say it was time to go, she cried "But mom, they were about to have their big battle!" I went ahead and let the carnage ensue while I paid for my items. Came back and she had put all the items back, and was engaged in another favorite activity: sorting the bins. She does this at the WalMart checkout lanes too. She's gonna have a job in a parts department somewhere, I just know it.

Back to the main thread. The following was one of the items I purchased, on a whim, for use during mealtimes, because heaven forbid I waste her valuable chewing time:




Now she can feed her body AND her mind. At the same time!

So, I tried it out this morning, but I neglected to turn off the morning video, so she could care less about doing the math.

Thinking nothing of it, I asked her to clean up her breakfast and went to take a shower. After getting ready, I saw that she had cleared the mat as well. Good on ya! What a thoughtful job she's doing.

I went to look for her to tell her I was ready to go, and found her in the front bathroom. On the pot. Reading the placemat. Again, time well spent.

PS - for The Man all you math/data nerds out there: yes, I realized (after I got it home) that the addition problems are done in ascending order most of the way through, so smart kids, like Loodle, can figure out that they just add one to each answer as they go along. Lame.

Small Town Reporting in the Big City

If you've ever grown up in a small town, moved to a big metropolis, then gone back to the hometown and watched the local news, you know how awesome it is. The sickly production value, the outdated hair, the cheesy car dealership commercials. The stories are mostly quaint, and relish little in the suffering of others, as big city news programs seem to.

Well, I'm living back in a biggish city, but got a glimpse of the small town again, in the form of this piece in Boodle's school newspaper. I don't know the age of the reporter, but it has to be 11 or under.

THE (INSERT LOCAL UNIVERSITY) GOLF CLUB DISASTER

A few weeks ago, there was a big disaster at the (insert local university) Golf Club. They were building a club house and in the second phase. The workers were trying to put in the tiles on the floor. They had to melt the tar with a fire torch, and a fire started. They couldn't put the fire out. Now, they will be out big time with money. Well, good luck workers.

Luke (reporter)

I love it. Honest, concise, and non-biased. Maybe I should send it to the L.A. Times.

Of Paintings and Preachers

Scene 1:

Loodle sits at the dining room table, covered with a smock, painting and humming.

Classical music plays in the background.

She is creating pretty pictures of flowers, and all is quiet and tranquil.

My mind floats on thoughts of how great I am to provide her with a creative outlet, and to help broaden her appreciation of fine music.

Loodle: "Mom?", she says with paint covered hands and face.

Me: "Yeah, sweetie?"

Loodle: "Can you pick out my wedgie?"

Me: "Um, no."

********

Scene 2:

Church today. Boodle must accompany me into the sanctuary for the sermon. There is no 11am program for kids after 1st grade, so my undiagnosed borderline ADD kid gets to sit with me for an hour and fifteen minutes of sheer torture. I'm pretty sure she hates sitting next to me, too.

I'm trying to focus on today's sermon, from I Peter 1:10-12. Prophets looking for the time and place of Christ's coming. Got it.

Boodle is fidgeting away to a maddening extent, and I am trying to be attentive when I spy a gentleman two rows ahead of me who is seriously going bald. He's not done the combover, but has let the top of his head just be bald. And shiny.

Man alive, the shininess of his head was remarkable. What could he have used on his scalp to achieve that much luster? And where can I get some to try on my hair?

Boodle roots into my purse in search of some type of diversion, comes up with a chocolate snack. That's what she needs: sugar and caffeine. Whining about starving, when right before the service I gave her OJ and a cookie bar. Clearly, she's wasting away.

A badge number comes up on the big screen. It's never me, but I check my nametag anyway. Nope, some other poor mom has to go check on Johnny. Wonder what happened. What would the circumstances ever be for them to page me? Loodle is five, so she would have to fall and break something before they'd come get me. And if it's just a toe of finger? Let her wait until they've passed the offering basket. Thanks.

Must focus. Pastor saying important things, things I can't parse because Lord, that man's head. I could clearly make out five lights reflected off of him, coming from the ceiling. Five separate lights. How is that possible that you can distinguish such a thing on someone's head?

Boodle, whining about hunger, boredom, thirst, feet hurting, making so much crinkling noise with the offering envelopes, tapping her shiny high heeled shoes that are just way too old for her, and how could I let her wear them to CHURCH?

What's the pastor saying? Angels or something. Letting God speak to me today. Okay, what have you got today, God? I'm trying so hard to listen, but that man's head and my daughter's body are crowding you out. Try again, I'm listening now.

Boodle passes me a note: "When is he going to be done?"

Sing it, sister.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Dear The Man,

I love you to bits and bits. Glad we re-upped for another seven. Happy 18th Valentine's Day!

I was going to try and upload pictures from early courtship and such. However, it was so depressing to see how skinny we used to be, and then to see how frighteningly heavy we both became before careening back down to the land of reason. Plus, I would have had to scan things in and upload other things, and since I've already broken one laptop, I decided to just represent the last year. You're welcome.

Lvoe!
BD







In case you're wondering, I always sit to The Man's left, because I'm a leftie, and that way we don't bump elbows while eating.

No we were eating at neither the park nor the backyard party, but after 18 years, you get into a rut groove.

Wordless Wednesday: Thanks for the Reminder, Kid

This suddenly appeared on my desk last week:

Fashion Tuesday

This was chosen for an outing to Ikea. All together, it's not bad. Remove one color, and I think I wouldn't even take a picture.

What's in her oh-you-know-you-want-one butterfly purse? That day it was lip gloss because... well, you know, and cash for purchasing things like Titta and Minnen Ratta. Oh, those wacky Swedes.

My favorite part of this look? The ponytails. I dearly wish I'd gotten a better shot. I usually do the two on the side, and then bring them with the rest of the hair into one big ponytail in the back. Not this time. She was adamant that she get three separate ponytails.

And I just realized that adamant can be separated into Adam Ant, which brings back fond memories of my middle/high school years, during which I did equally funky things with my hair, all in the name of "fashion".

Rock on, Loodle.

Bad Mother Awards Are Being Handed Out Soon

I've been seeing multiple blog posts about bad things we've been doing to (or failing to do for) our children. So, in the spirit of mediocrity, I'll add my own name to the list of nominees.

Last week, during my Bunco extravaganza, The Man discovered that the power cable for his laptop was broken. I don't think it was my fault, since nothing ever is, but somehow, because I was the one who moved the couch to plug in a lamp, we've created the Great Broken Computer Cable Debacle of 2008. Needless to say, he was grumpy about this, so I was commanded from on high volunteered to go to the mall to a Dell kiosk to try and get the replacement.

Many things contributed to me being crabby on the drive to the mall: it was Friday, and we were heading into commuter traffic; I was rushing, as we had a narrow window between school getting out and the sitter coming for our date night; going anywhere with Boodle directly after school is a dicey proposition, as her mood is never predictable; I was irritated at being blamed for the GBCCD 2008 in the first place. Hi, babe!

So, off we drove to the mall, and the girls immediately commenced with the bickering. You know what I mean. That thing they do which makes your ears bleed. It starts with the mine mine mine argument, escalates to name calling, and then culminates in a slapping sound and a screeched "Owwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaahhhhh". This would typically be followed by a lecture from me and various threats being floated in order to restore peace.

Not that day. That day, I decided that my delicate flowers needed to learn what a knock down, drag out fight felt like. So, they proceeded to punch, kick and slap each other in the back of the van whilst I turned the radio up a little louder and let them. The funny thing was, and yes, I promise it's funny because no one REALLY got hurt, they were taking turns hitting each other. No free for all with these polite girls. I picture them with a bubble over their heads: "Oh, it's your turn, take your next shot, while I ponder my next attack." It escalated until Loodle, being the smaller child, was hit pretty hard in the face, and began the ugly cry, ending the fight.

At this point, I glanced in the rearview mirror and made my first and only contribution to the interplay: "Boodle, stop sucking your thumb."

Cause THAT'S not appropriate.

A few seconds of quiet followed, which was broken by a small voice uttering, "Sorry, Loodle", followed by, "That's okay."

I think we all learned a little something there, don't you?

***Disclaimer: since that day, we've had several full contact fights, which I have level headedly mediated, mostly threatening to take away coveted new shoes if anyone touches anyone else ever again. I don't think I could repeat that lapse in sound parenting again.

****Further disclaimer: I never did get the replacement cable, as Dell, in their infinite wisdom, closed all Dell Direct stores/kiosks at the end of January. So I'm now sharing my laptop, MY laptop, with The Man. Wish us luck.

I Think She Needs Lasik

I got CARDED last night whilst buying wine at WalMart for my Bunco party tonight. SO many things wrong with that transaction.

1. I got CARDED. I have no illusions as to what age my face is portraying. It's not a day younger than 35. And I'm 36. The sweet young cashier was either trying to flatter me for some mysterious reason, or really needed to see her ophthalmologist.

2. I was buying wine. I don't drink. Never have, after growing up listening to recovering alcoholics speak about all they went through. My dad was 29 years sober when he passed away, and I identified with him, even as early as middle school, as he talked about WHY he drank. What really stuck with me was the idea that drinking helped him hide himself. If anyone knew who he really was, if they could know those deep dark thoughts that went through his mind, they would run screaming. Boy, did I get that, and it made me realize that I would probably use alcohol just like he did. My brother, after a brief experiment in high school, is also alcohol free. We're WILD at parties. Have us over!

3. I bought wine at WalMart. THAT'S how much I don't drink. I buy wine at WalMart and foist it off on my Bunco group. Maybe I'll get lucky and they won't ask me to host again. Although I WILL be rockin' a sweet Chinese New Year Bunco par-tay. You know you wanna come.

4. I belong to a Bunco group. I'm definitely not living in L.A. anymore. Which is usually a good thing. But compare Bunco night with going out with friends to eat Ethiopian food and catching a double feature of Bogart classics at the Laemmle on Sunset. Okay, we rarely ever did that, but still, I could if I wanted to.

Fashion Tuesday/Wordless Wednesday

In case you didn't notice, I was a little busy yesterday, so here's my day late Fashion Tuesday, which gives me the right to add words to Wordless Wednesday.



What? Oh, just going to dance class. Why do you ask?

D-Day: It's All Good

We got through the dental appointment. The appointment itself was awesome, filled with goofy gas and monkey medicine, which caused Boodle to be absolutely hilarious. And quite the loud talker.

It was the coming home where things became decidedly weepy. Apparently, Versed and numbness can make a freaky combination for kids who aren't used to that numb feeling. She was pretty wigged out, and at one point screeched, "I can't believe I let them do that to me!". Luckily, I was behind her so she couldn't see me choking back laughter. I'm a good mom.

She's currently ensconced on the couch (thumb in her mouth, natch), watching what will no doubt be the third of 437 videos viewed to day. I'm super indulgent right now. Fridge is stocked with pudding, boiled eggs and Jello and the DVR is loaded with videos to rot her brain distract her.

I guess at some point I'll have to go get Loodle from her playdate. What with her gone and spoon feeding Boodle her Jello, I'm reminded what it was like way back when with just one baby. Only, this one has not quite as many teeth.

Wish Us Luck

Tomorrow, Boodle goes to the dentist to have a procedure. Without grossing dental sensitive readers out, she will come home a little lighter.

As a dental sensitive person my own self, this trip alone is making me consider going back to work so The Man can stay home with the kids and take them to appointments like this.

It's not fair. I have to be brave and strong for Boodle, and all I want to do is curl into a ball right along side her and blubber like a baby.

You know what's even more unfair? That she has to go through the actual procedure, so why don't I just shut up already? Yeah, you're right.

Send prayers, thoughts, and good mojo to central Texas tomorrow morning at 9 am, okay?

Thanks.

Good game. Good game. Good game.

Oh, our beloved Pats. Go down in flames. Sigh. They had a good run of it, but the Giants' defense was too powerful tonight. The Man says if they give the MVP award to anyone but a defensive team member, it'll be a travesty. I say, yeah right, like they won't give it to Manning, but he's correct. They won the game for the Giants tonight.

It WAS a great game. I haven't been getting all worked up about the Super Bowl after so many years of lopsided yawners, but this one was truly exciting, edge of your seat action. Even if my team lost. Dammit.

We had to miss a fun Super Bowl party at the neighbor's because of an ill timed bout of stomach virus. Thanks a lot, kids. Settled for random snacks in front of our own TV, but at least no one threw up.

You Know What's Worse?

You know what's worse than BOTH of your children coming down with a nasty stomach virus?

Both your children coming down with a nasty stomach virus a mere four hours after an appliance repairman has dismantled your washing machine and informed you it will be a week before it's fixed.

Thank you. And if you live in central Texas, can I come over?