A little background in case you have never seen me. I am of Danish/German decent, very blonde, and about the whitest girl you have seen.
So, I bought this spray-on self-tanner. The commercial shows a blonde, seemingly like me, spraying this bronze-contents-under-pressure freely all over her body with an end result being a glorious, freakishly-even tan. Being just as much of a consumer as the next sucker, I fall prey to the deception.
flash forward to the next morning
ACK! I have streaks and blotches and, despite all the advance of modern chemistry, a subtle orangish-glow over my once porcelain legs. The can says this is not even possible!
I guess I will have to accept that I will always be pasty. I will be the one wearing pants in the 90 degree heat until my orange glowing streaks disappear.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
no, she is not always this happy
There's nothing like coming home from work to find your very sick baby in need of a trip to the ER.
Let me preface this by saying that we, as a family, do whatever we can to avoid medical intervention entirely. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some radical who thinks modern medicine is a sham or anything. We just try to avoid doctors, hospitals, etc. because they usually mean someone is sick and we don't like to be sick so we Avoid Being Sick.
Well, all of us except for Kiki. She had a bout of RSV as a wee thing and it has been kicking her tushy ever since. The Muss or Boo get the sniffles, Kiki gets a full-blown respiratory infection that requires antibiotics, steroids and breathing treatments. The Muss or Boo get a "head-cold" and Kiki, the lucky girl, gets pneumonia. It is excrutiating to watch your sweet babe be that ill, but any parent knows this.
So, back to coming home from work yesterday and the status of Kiki. Upon arrival at home , J. informs me that Kiki has gone downhill throughout the day and is having some serious difficulty in the breathing department. Obviously, not breathing well is an issue, especially for a 21-month old tot. I frantically uncover our doctor's cell phone number. Yes, we actually have a doctor who trusts us enough to give us his personal cell number, probably because he knows we are among the least likely of his patients to actually use it. He tells me what I knew he would, a trip to the ER is in order.
Not much of interest from the actual hospital visit, it is a lovely Children's Hospital just down the street from our home. Very convenient, shiny, sparkley and completely renovated. Another x-ray of her teeny lungs (which always makes me shudder), another mega-dose of steroids and another super-charged breathing treatment and we were on our way. No pneumonia this time, at least.
Complete oversight. I totally forgot to mention that SHE WAILED AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS FOR THE FIRST 45 MINUTES WE WERE THERE. No shots nor any pokey devices of any type even came near her unblemished baby skin. You would have thought that they were trying to physically remove her lungs from her body to examine them instead of gently touching her back with a thoughtfully-warmed stethoscope. I was finally able to soothe her by the 37th round of singing of her favorite song. Thank goodness there wasn't just a curtain between us and the rest of the ER because I don't know which was worse, her crying or my singing. Ok, I know my singing was way worse.
I know, I know, she is a baby and does not understand what is going on, but you should see this hospital. It is the most kid-friendly-non-threatening hospital one can imagine. If she were a "fussy" baby or had been "colicky" or was maybe "high strung" or "tense" in anyway normally, then, then I would not have been surprised at her reaction. But, no, she has been the easiest (yet, craftiest) baby of the bunch. I cannot even recall how many times I have been asked "is she always this happy?" and "does she ever cry?"
Let me tell you, folks, yes, yes she does. If you would ever like to hear what she sounds like at full-tilt, just take her to your local Children's Hospital.
Let me preface this by saying that we, as a family, do whatever we can to avoid medical intervention entirely. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some radical who thinks modern medicine is a sham or anything. We just try to avoid doctors, hospitals, etc. because they usually mean someone is sick and we don't like to be sick so we Avoid Being Sick.
Well, all of us except for Kiki. She had a bout of RSV as a wee thing and it has been kicking her tushy ever since. The Muss or Boo get the sniffles, Kiki gets a full-blown respiratory infection that requires antibiotics, steroids and breathing treatments. The Muss or Boo get a "head-cold" and Kiki, the lucky girl, gets pneumonia. It is excrutiating to watch your sweet babe be that ill, but any parent knows this.
So, back to coming home from work yesterday and the status of Kiki. Upon arrival at home , J. informs me that Kiki has gone downhill throughout the day and is having some serious difficulty in the breathing department. Obviously, not breathing well is an issue, especially for a 21-month old tot. I frantically uncover our doctor's cell phone number. Yes, we actually have a doctor who trusts us enough to give us his personal cell number, probably because he knows we are among the least likely of his patients to actually use it. He tells me what I knew he would, a trip to the ER is in order.
Not much of interest from the actual hospital visit, it is a lovely Children's Hospital just down the street from our home. Very convenient, shiny, sparkley and completely renovated. Another x-ray of her teeny lungs (which always makes me shudder), another mega-dose of steroids and another super-charged breathing treatment and we were on our way. No pneumonia this time, at least.
Complete oversight. I totally forgot to mention that SHE WAILED AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS FOR THE FIRST 45 MINUTES WE WERE THERE. No shots nor any pokey devices of any type even came near her unblemished baby skin. You would have thought that they were trying to physically remove her lungs from her body to examine them instead of gently touching her back with a thoughtfully-warmed stethoscope. I was finally able to soothe her by the 37th round of singing of her favorite song. Thank goodness there wasn't just a curtain between us and the rest of the ER because I don't know which was worse, her crying or my singing. Ok, I know my singing was way worse.
I know, I know, she is a baby and does not understand what is going on, but you should see this hospital. It is the most kid-friendly-non-threatening hospital one can imagine. If she were a "fussy" baby or had been "colicky" or was maybe "high strung" or "tense" in anyway normally, then, then I would not have been surprised at her reaction. But, no, she has been the easiest (yet, craftiest) baby of the bunch. I cannot even recall how many times I have been asked "is she always this happy?" and "does she ever cry?"
Let me tell you, folks, yes, yes she does. If you would ever like to hear what she sounds like at full-tilt, just take her to your local Children's Hospital.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
on the way to buy new shoes
A little conversation between myself and Boo:
after being in the car for all of 2 blocks
Boo: How much longer until we get there?
Me: Just a couple of blocks.
Boo: Are you taking a short-cut?
Me: No, honey, no short-cut.
Boo: *sighing impatiently* Must be the long-cut then.
Mind you, the store we were going to was only a total of 7 blocks from our house. I'm sure the 500 mile road-trip we are taking at the end of the month will just fly by.
after being in the car for all of 2 blocks
Boo: How much longer until we get there?
Me: Just a couple of blocks.
Boo: Are you taking a short-cut?
Me: No, honey, no short-cut.
Boo: *sighing impatiently* Must be the long-cut then.
Mind you, the store we were going to was only a total of 7 blocks from our house. I'm sure the 500 mile road-trip we are taking at the end of the month will just fly by.
Friday, May 25, 2007
path of destruction
Seems that is what Kiki was on tonight. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I do know when. I (selfishly) took, oh, about 1/2 hour to myself to peruse the latest issue of The Week that arrived today. The Muss was reading in her room and Boo and Kiki were playing in Boo's room. It appears Kiki has gotten much more destructive that I had initially though possible. She somehow managed to remove every game and puzzle from Boo's shelves and empty them onto the floor. There are (were) a lot of games and puzzles on his shelves. I'm pretty sure that Boo was giving her step-by-step instruction thoughout, but it was actually Kiki who made the mess.
His room was clean.
Now he argues that I must help him return it to its former glory since it was not he who turned it into what it has become. He makes a valid point. If I could only cajole Kiki into doing it instead. I can usually get her to do anything for a sucker.
What? Bribing your 20-month-old is wrong?
His room was clean.
Now he argues that I must help him return it to its former glory since it was not he who turned it into what it has become. He makes a valid point. If I could only cajole Kiki into doing it instead. I can usually get her to do anything for a sucker.
What? Bribing your 20-month-old is wrong?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
sweet dreams
My family lets bananas overripen just so I will make banana bread. They love my banana bread. Although my mother-in-law thinks hers is better, we all know the truth. I require 4 brownish bananas to create my masterpiece so whenever I buy a bunch, they always stop eating them with 4 left, in their minds the bananas are gone.
So I had 4 brownish bananas hanging on my banana hanger and this was my queue. I whipped up a loaf simultaneously while making dinner (don't ask me how I do it) and it baked while we were eating dinner. I pulled it out of the oven to a chorus of "oooooh's" and "aaaaaahh's!" They know they will have fresh banana bread for breakfast.
The Muss steps in closer, takes a big whiff and states in her most longing tone, "Mmmmmm, I'm going to dream about that tonight."
So I had 4 brownish bananas hanging on my banana hanger and this was my queue. I whipped up a loaf simultaneously while making dinner (don't ask me how I do it) and it baked while we were eating dinner. I pulled it out of the oven to a chorus of "oooooh's" and "aaaaaahh's!" They know they will have fresh banana bread for breakfast.
The Muss steps in closer, takes a big whiff and states in her most longing tone, "Mmmmmm, I'm going to dream about that tonight."
he has had better days
Boo, that is.
I was not actually present during this event as I was at work at the time so this is told by J. He is pretty accurate in his accounts most of the time so I deem it reliable.
I came home from work today to hear a sobbing Boo up in his room and find Kiki corraled in her crib joyfully watching "boots" (Dora, the Explorer to you and me). Hmm, something is amiss is the first thing that pops into my head. I turn to the bathroom and J. on the floor with every towel we own in a sopping heap in the corner. Definitely something amiss.
Me: Ummmm, how are things, honey?
I ask this knowing full well that things are not going the best, but maybe that will ease him into the events of the morning. I can still see the steam rising from his pores so I know this is a recent occurance.
Seems J. was downstairs folding laundry when he heard what sounded like running water. He was by the washing machine so kind of checked around that area and all was well. He then went up the first flight of stairs where there is a little sink in the hallway outside the less-than-half-bathroom. There is water, for some odd reason, pouring out of a gaping hole in the ceiling (gaping hole was already there, hard to explain, but there is normally not water pouring from it). He flies up the next 2 flights of stairs to the upstairs bathroom (directly above the gaping hole with water pouring from it) to find the sink plugged, water running at full-blast and flowing out of it like a sinkhole at high tide. From what I have been told there were several inches of water all over the floor around the commode and sink. Luckily our bathroom isn't level or it would have escaped into the hallway as well.
Secretly I was hoping it had ruined the lovely peel-and-stick-shades-of-beige tile we have in there, but, sadly, it looks like they will last a while longer.
Once J. got the water stopped and surrounded by towels, he rushed back down to show the culprit the consequences of his actions. Boo, being only 4, had not realized the whole cause-and-effect thing of leaving the water on with the sink plugged. Maybe he thought that it would magically stop at the rim of the sink or something, but obviously that was not the case.
Thus, the sobbing when I got home. He had been reprimanded. And confined to his room until he cleans it up. Or learns physics.
I was not actually present during this event as I was at work at the time so this is told by J. He is pretty accurate in his accounts most of the time so I deem it reliable.
I came home from work today to hear a sobbing Boo up in his room and find Kiki corraled in her crib joyfully watching "boots" (Dora, the Explorer to you and me). Hmm, something is amiss is the first thing that pops into my head. I turn to the bathroom and J. on the floor with every towel we own in a sopping heap in the corner. Definitely something amiss.
Me: Ummmm, how are things, honey?
I ask this knowing full well that things are not going the best, but maybe that will ease him into the events of the morning. I can still see the steam rising from his pores so I know this is a recent occurance.
Seems J. was downstairs folding laundry when he heard what sounded like running water. He was by the washing machine so kind of checked around that area and all was well. He then went up the first flight of stairs where there is a little sink in the hallway outside the less-than-half-bathroom. There is water, for some odd reason, pouring out of a gaping hole in the ceiling (gaping hole was already there, hard to explain, but there is normally not water pouring from it). He flies up the next 2 flights of stairs to the upstairs bathroom (directly above the gaping hole with water pouring from it) to find the sink plugged, water running at full-blast and flowing out of it like a sinkhole at high tide. From what I have been told there were several inches of water all over the floor around the commode and sink. Luckily our bathroom isn't level or it would have escaped into the hallway as well.
Secretly I was hoping it had ruined the lovely peel-and-stick-shades-of-beige tile we have in there, but, sadly, it looks like they will last a while longer.
Once J. got the water stopped and surrounded by towels, he rushed back down to show the culprit the consequences of his actions. Boo, being only 4, had not realized the whole cause-and-effect thing of leaving the water on with the sink plugged. Maybe he thought that it would magically stop at the rim of the sink or something, but obviously that was not the case.
Thus, the sobbing when I got home. He had been reprimanded. And confined to his room until he cleans it up. Or learns physics.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
sweet nothings at bedtime
I really enjoy bedtime for the kids. Not just because it means mommy gets some much needed quiet time, but because they say the sweetest things.
The Muss always reads a blessing from one of her books. We always talk about what is up for school the next day and say our I-love-you's and I tell her how special she is and how proud I am of her. Lately she has also been practicing her lines for the Kindergarten musical. She is going to be spectacular.
Boo always says the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep prayer and we play a little "I love you game." His latest:
M: I love you, Boo
B: I love you, momma
M: I love you more
B: I love you to the end of numbers
I thought that was very clever for a Boo of 4.
Kiki, the sweet little magical pixie that she is, lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her to bed. She giggles and smiles as I put her head on her pillow and cover her with her blankie. Then she whispers "ni, ni" in her sweet baby voice. She normally goes down without a fight, which is rare for a child I have birthed. There is always a glitch, though, isn't there? She tends to wake up around midnight with a wail. Luckily, daddy is home from work by then to take care of that.
The Muss always reads a blessing from one of her books. We always talk about what is up for school the next day and say our I-love-you's and I tell her how special she is and how proud I am of her. Lately she has also been practicing her lines for the Kindergarten musical. She is going to be spectacular.
Boo always says the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep prayer and we play a little "I love you game." His latest:
M: I love you, Boo
B: I love you, momma
M: I love you more
B: I love you to the end of numbers
I thought that was very clever for a Boo of 4.
Kiki, the sweet little magical pixie that she is, lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her to bed. She giggles and smiles as I put her head on her pillow and cover her with her blankie. Then she whispers "ni, ni" in her sweet baby voice. She normally goes down without a fight, which is rare for a child I have birthed. There is always a glitch, though, isn't there? She tends to wake up around midnight with a wail. Luckily, daddy is home from work by then to take care of that.
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