Exile in Guyville

It's been forever.  I know.  I KNOW!  The past year has been a doozy, for lots of reasons, and I honestly didn't think that sharing them would be productive or healthy, or, in some cases, entirely legal.

Now, however, I am feeling the pull of a beautiful spring about to spring (albeit LATE) and I'm trying to breathe some life into my poor, dry, brittle blog.

I'm the kind of person who enjoys being excited...for our purposes, I mean this in a PG way.  My children have both inherited this trait...you can see it in the flapping of their baby bird wings whenever something has the prospect of being exciting; a new movie to watch, baby birds in the birdhouse, having lunch out in the backyard, EASTER CANDY!

It usually makes me so happy to write about my family, my life, and the things that made me laugh, but it became a struggle to find things that I was enthusiastic about there for awhile.  Life can be draining, and even someone who considers themselves to be an optimist is not immune from what Dan and I have started to call "Lifesuck."

Lifesuck can be a literal emotion (life is sucking), a noun (much like the tide, the Lifesuck makes you want to stay in bed, or shave your head a la Britney Spears), or a verb (this four-hour parent-teacher conference LIFESUCKS.).

We've come up with several ways to combat the dreaded Lifesuck, and here is what we have so far:

• Bourbon!
• Bad Jokes (What did Jay-Z call his girlfriend before they got married? ...Feyoncè!)
• Exercise (you've got to run, run like the wind, to be free again)
• Bourbon!
• Baking cookies
• Good books
• Bad books
• Bourbon!
• Date nights
• Kissing sleeping children
• Hugs from my parents
• Crying in the shower (environmentally friendly in that you don't need tissues!)
• Looking at pictures of bunnies on the internet

Please feel free to add to this list.  It's a living document that I'm sure we will rely on for the next 14 years or so.

5 for 5

I've noticed lately that parenting a boy (and sometimes a husband) really only requires the same five words, just using five different inflections.  Ahem:

• Why did you do THAT? (followed by laughing and pointing)
• Why did you do that? (said with hushed shock and awe, then usually "show me!")
• WHY did you do that? (accompanied by fear and anxiety, and usually some sort of detangling or rescuing)
• WHY DID YOU DO THAT?  (demonstrably angry, in the middle of cleaning poop out of the tub or vacuuming up 10 lbs of loose sand throughout my house)
• Why did you do that?  (genuinely curious as to what thought processes might, but probably didn't, occur as he chose to do something completely and unfathomably ridiculous, like wear tighty whities on his head...and encourage his son to mimic him.)

The Life Of Sydney

I can't believe that my little Cheeto is about to turn three.  THREE.  I can't believe I've kept her alive this long given her propensity to make people want to choke her.

She is an amazingly verbose child and has so many budding talents already at two, I can't imagine what the next year holds in store for us.  She's really good at memorizing songs...she can hear a song just once and pick up half (or more) of the lyrics.  She can sing many songs by heart, and is almost always on key!  This astounds me as I still work to achieve this feat myself.  Her favorites are "Kerry" Perry's The One That Got Away and Do-Re-Mi.  She also knows Ke$ha's This Place About To Blow (which, while cringe-worthy, has inspired some of the most amazing dance moves by both children).  The Teddy Bear Picnic and Que Sera are her favorite bedtime songs.  She recently heard Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics and fell in love with it.  I remember distinctly hearing that song in the car as a 5-year old and being entranced.  I instantly assumed it was about bullying, which is hilarious to me now.  What is even more hilarious is hearing Sydney sing it to herself as she drags her babydoll around the house: "...some of them want to 'buse you...some of them want to beat up you!"

Syddles also has some very distinct catch phrases and still hilariously mispronounces words.  Here are a few that we love:

"Hey there BOOTIE-BUTT!"
"Wait...I'm a good girl!"
"Give me some jetty beans."
"I DO need a napkin!"

Crash can (trash can)
Trench tries (french fries)
Horky-horky (okey-dokey)
Ca$ha (Ke$ha)

Eyes Wide Open

Warning:  Mushy post ahead.

Sometimes I find myself caught up in the little frustrations of life and I focus too much on the next chore I have to do, or the endless problems that seems to crop up, who to yell at, who not to yell at, worries, stress, SILVERFISH.  And I've noticed that when I'm feeling flustered and frustrated with life, I only see the negatives--the things that are going wrong--and that feeling is so suffocating that I can't breathe in anything good and new.

We were driving in the car on our way home from school when Jack expressed to me that he just felt down, not for any particular reason, and that as the day had gone on, he had found more and more reasons to continue feeling down.  This was such a familiar feeling to me it almost seemed like a bell had chimed softly in my head as he explained his feelings.  I told him that I knew exactly how he felt, and that it happens to me too.  Then I told him the way that I try to fix that feeling, as soon as I sense it creeping in on my day.  I told him how I think of all of my favorite things, my favorite people, all of the adventures that I want to have, the places I want to go, the things I'm looking forward to.  I told him that I remember how I feel when I squeeze the dogs, or my kids, or my parents or sister; I remember the taste of oysters with lemon and horseradish, and how one time I found a pearl in one; I think of laughing with my friends at silly jokes, or finishing a really great book, the excitement I feel when I plan a surprise for someone special, or when I help people at work. As my list went on, Jack started to excitedly chime in and we added more and more things--checking on the baby blue birds that made a nest in our birdhouse, watching the finches devour the contents of our feeder, seeing the horses and ponies on the way to Susu's house, cannonballs into the pool, hot french fries, the smell of a new action figure, watching a really good movie for the first time and being excited to see it again right away.  Before we knew it we were home and both in great moods.  I promised that if he felt sad again, I would help him remember his list.  He gave me a quick squeeze as we went inside, and promised to do the same for me.  I told him that he does, without trying, all of the time.

I recently saw a movie called Jeff, Who Lives at Home and I really loved it.  It's weird and quirky and funny and has a GREAT thread, which totally resonated with me: you have to keep your eyes open for signs in life, and not signs that things are wrong, but signs that things are so, so right.  And you can't do this if you're closed off and negative.  No, no, you have to be open and positive that these things are there, you just have to notice them in the right light.  There is a great quote in this movie, and as soon as I heard it, I heard that same chime in my head.  "What is the greatest day in the history of the world?  It's today."

Overheard

Dan is putting Jack to sleep, and they're lying in Jack's bed talking quietly.

Dan stops talking to clear his throat, and Jack proclaims loudly, "One thing I DO know about myself...when I cough hard, I FART hard."

Dan quickly says goodnight and runs from the room, shaking with silent laughter.

Jack calls after him, "I can hear you laaaaaaughing!"

Senioritis

This fall our Stanley will turn 11. That's not too old in whippet years...their usual lifespan is between 13-16 years. Well, somewhere in Stanley's teeny brain an alarm was tripped that signaled that he must become a huge diva. Now, for the last nine years he has been a little on the demanding side for a dog, but then again, whippets are very skinny and have an extremely delicate idea of what they can do and ABSOLUTELY CANNOT DO.  (Unfortunately for me, house-shitting falls into the can-do category...Dinah.)

Stanley has taken to sleeping in (IN MY BED) until 11am or until I make the bed (which yes, some days isn't until 11am).  I literally have to kick/shame him out of my bed by pulling down the covers (oh yes, he sleeps under the covers) and talking to him like he is a surly teenager who does zero chores.

He slowly gets up, shakes, and jumps down to leave, but not without giving me a baleful look as he gets to the door...as if to communicate that I am the lamest mama ever, that all his other doggy-friend's mamas let them sleep in as late as they want.  This look doesn't fool me because I know that he has no friends.  He's too snooty for DOG friends.  His best friends are me and my mother, who he has unfortunately alienated recently by taking an angry dump in her house b/c she dared to go to work all day and leave him alone with DOGS.  He has attempted to fill this hole in his life with Jack, but Jack annoys him after awhile with the incessant foot-touching. (I know how that feels, and it is karmic retribution as I am also an incessant toucher. Also, I'm sorry Leslie.)

Hyphenmania

Hey look!  Only a 3 month delay!  This is the least efficient blog ever.

I honestly did write this in March, but things prevented me from posting here until now.  LUCKY YOU!

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We just returned from Colorado, where we spent 10 glorious days not working (wheeee!) and skiing (WHEEEEE!) with some drinking, laughing, and a whole lot of babies/sleeping mixed in. Our friends who live in Littleton (right outside of Denver) hosted us, and even transported us all of the way up into the little rocky nest known as Steamboat. Luckily, I managed to take 4,612 photos during this journey.


The Base of the Rockies
We hadn't been out to Colorado since I was pregnant with Sydney, and against the (OFTEN REPEATED) advice of many people, I did ski. Some of you are gasping. I, however, am doing a very hilarious Samuel L. Jackson impression that involves some unsavory words and air-kicking. Relax, nothing bad happened. (And I even skied a black! *maniacal laugh*) THIS trip was insanely more fun because a) there was NO BARFING, b) there were no FETUSES, and c) I had a King-sized bed to sleep in. Actually there were d-zz more reasons, including 42" of gorgeous champagne powder and lunch cocktails.


36" of New Powder the Second Morning
Everyone had a great time, including Jack, who managed to climb through three levels of peeweeski school, a feat which may sound relatively average, but if you knew this bumbling child first-hand, you would understand that this is near-Herculean. It made my vacation so enjoyable to pick him up from his snowy school all rosy-cheeked and beaming...and demanding hot chocolate.


Sippers
Sydney is too little for ski school, so she was forced to stay back at the house with a nanny and two twin boys. I know, her karma is shitty. It's her own fault. Luckily, she is smart, mean, and fast enough to evade 1.5 year-old meatballs. I, however, was not as on-my-toes and suffered several nasty yanks of hair, inside-of-the-arm pinches that hurt worse than giving birth, as well as a few claws to the legs. Honestly it was like having two incredibly strong shrunken, and also very incoherently drunk, men to take care of. These kids have a PHYSIQUE. They were both terrifying and eye-wateringly adorable. I spent most of my time avoiding them or squeezing them in mama bear hugs (which were also the only effective way of contact without the pinches/yanks/claws). My extreme awe and esteem to their mother, who maybe should have thought better about procreating with a crazy Army Ranger turned Law Enforcement Agent who can eat an entire large pizza and wings in one sitting, AND goes heli-skiing in Alaska for fun. This man also affectionately calls me by the nickname "Crazy." Must be like calling a bald man Curly, right?


Descent to Denver

We survived the trip with zero injuries, two miserable colds (Dan and I) and no citations for choking a child on an airplane...so better than I was expecting. Sydney was kept in (relative) control on the plane via jelly beans and Nemo and my indulging her in 9 trips to the bathroom. She loved the tiny lavatory, and also announcing to the entire cabin as she pranced back to her seat that "I peed on the little potty! And so did Mommy!"