Precious Gem

Here is another beautiful set by Desiree of Mia Carina Boutique. It is beautifully done - the embroidery is exquisite! I love the glorious tutu in my favorite shade of blue and the blings and sequins - wow!

That's Bruce holding up his precious gem. His long legs make a good backdrop!

Snacks for Santa

"Let's bake some cookies!" I suggested to the girls on Christmas Eve morn. "Let's bake some cookies for Santa!"

The girls were delighted with the idea and set to work. They climbed up onto the counter and dumped butter, brown sugar, white sugar, eggs, cinnamon, vanilla, flour, baking soda, salt and lastly, oatmeal into my big white bowl. They took turns mixing as we listened over and over to Billy May and His Orchestra play Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. We put the cookies into the oven. As we waited for them to bake, we mamboed around the kitchen - shouting out together at the end of the song "What the heck is the Mahhhm-bo!"

When we had cooled the last cookie, Celeste carefully placed some on a plate for Santa - with a bit extra for his elves. She left Santa a cup of water and she laid out a bowl of water for his reindeer. Happy with her welcoming snack for St. Nick and friends, Celeste was ready to go to Nana's for Christmas Eve dinner.

Christmas morning, I lay awake and waited for the girls to discover their presents. Finally, after what seemed forever to me - they had slept in! - I heard a tiny pitter patter. It was Celeste. I heard her go downstairs. I heard her come back upstairs and get Emme. I heard her say "Emme! Wake up! You've gotta see this!" I heard the pitter patter of two pairs of tiny feet go downstairs, come back upstairs, and finally into my bedroom.

"Mommy! Daddy!" whispered Celeste excitedly. "You've gotta see this!" Bruce and I, with Brooke in my arms, took Celeste and Emme's small hands, and with closed eyes let them lead us down the stairs.

"Open your eyes!" Celeste ordered. We opened them expecting to see the presents Santa had left. Instead, we saw two plates full of crumbs, a half-eaten cookie, the remnants of a cut up apple, an empty cup and an empty water bowl. The girls were delighted.

"Santa ate the snacks we left for him!" Celeste beamed up at us. Miss Hospitality. "And the weindeer too!" Emme chimed in. Miss Hospitality Junior Miss.

Then and only then, did they check their stockings, and later under the tree to see what Santa had brought them.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all my Friends and Family!

...and if your oldest daughters go through the closet, find your baby's gift from Santa, pull it out of the box and put it together so they can play with it - don't put your head down and cry tears of frustration! All is not lost.

Take a deep breath and let them know that what they did was wrong - no yelling - even if that's what you really want to do. Explain that Santa had sent you an email asking you to wrap a few gifts for him to help him out. Explain that Santa had sent his gifts via UPS and that explains the big brown boxes in the garage. We all need to do our part to help Santa out!

Best of all, remind yourself that it's about family - not the presents and not about Santa. Put on an apron and get your kids to help you bake a birthday cake. A birthday cake for the guy who saved us from ourselves.

love,
Monica

The Annual Christmas Dance Recital

Celeste and Emme have been taking dance classes with Miss Jo at their little private school once a week after school. This is Celeste's third year and Emme's second. Miss Jo started teaching dance the same year that Celeste was in pre-school. She's a wonderful teacher.

Here are some pictures from tonight's dance recital. I'm not even going to go into what it took to get me and the girls there in time in the rain in one piece. All I know is that one of my good mom buddies, Kerri, saved me two seats in the FRONT row and the music room was PACKED.

I was wearing a baseball cap (slap some lipstick on - you'll be fine!) and the brim wouldn't let me hold the camera to my eye. There was no way I was gonna take that hat off, so I held Brooke while Bruce shot the pics. It was really crowded in there and the angle was odd, but I think he did all right.

The girls tried their very best not to smile. In the pictures you can see they are using all their facial muscles to fight it. I asked them why later and Celeste explained - "Because when we smile, the people laugh at us."



Here comes Suzy Snowflake!



Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree...







and Christmas In Hawaii...

Emme's Cowboy Boots

It's funny how somehow the DNA of family members is embedded in our children. It's funny how it shows - how it shows up undeniably and unmistakably in our children.

I have an uncle - my Uncle Lorenzo. He is about six feet tall. He has long hair, a beard and the high forehead and long nose of a Spaniard. Put a sword in his hand, give him some lace cuffs, and he could be Don Quixote.

My uncle has always looked this way. It's simply his style. His shoes of choice are cowboy boots. He has worn pointy toed cowboy boots as far back as I can remember. My uncle is a storyteller. He tells his stories with relish. When the drama escalates, he gets up from his chair and acts out his tales in the heat of the moment. I can see in my minds eye him lifting up one long leg and cocking his boot clad foot, preparing to kick a butt or two.

My uncle is awesome. He smokes cigars.

I think Emme has a bit of my uncle in her. She has recently acquired a pair of brown cowboy boots. I bought them for her to model a cowboy Santa set that I had been planning to make. (maybe next year?) Anyway, she LOVES those cowboy boots and wears them everywhere with everything. She looks pretty damn good too. She has long legs and narrow hips just like my uncle. She can tell stories too, just like my uncle. She is awesome, just like my uncle.

The other day, I was walking down the hall toward her bedroom. I spotted her from a few feet away. She was sitting on the floor near the wastebasket. She had just put on her jeans and was preparing to don her boots. I saw her grab them, pull the wastebasket toward her and empty out about a half cupful of sand from each one - just like a cowboy.

I left her alone, grateful to have witnessed that small personal moment - so rich with memories of my uncle - my grand, wonderful Uncle Lorenzo.

Celeste Turns Six At American Girl Place

I love the City of Los Angeles. I love it's new/oldness. The buildings - how the old architecture is tucked in between the new beautifully designed buildings. I love how in between, the plain but cool '50's and '60's buildings sit with their plain boxiness, atomic age wrought iron railings and spiky landscaping.

The mish mash of architecture is distinctively dotted with the signature palm trees. Green consistently accents the stucco pinks and greys, the glass and marble, the frescoes and bas reliefs.

The people are not unlike the architecture. There's the old world - the Hasidic Jews taking a Sabbath stroll. They add to the beauty of the city, with their wool coats and hats. The women, in their tailored outfits, shepherd lovely children and push shiny strollers filled with fat babies pink cheeked in the icy air.

The new world weaves their way among their peers. The young studio execs - making deals on their cell phones. Gorgeous tall homemakers pushing their shiny stroller while exasperated hubbies carry mountains of packages from J. Crew and Pottery Barn.

In between are the immigrants from nearby 3rd world countries. They came to the U.S. to get a better life, and it is clear that they have gotten just that. They walk happily, shepherding their tiny childen, pushing theirstrollers smiling at eachother with white teeth contrasting strongly with their suntanned skin.

Thiis is what I savored on the way to The Grove where American Girl Place can be found. We celebrated Celeste's sixth birthday there. It's a little girl's dream palace. A place out of a Shirley Temple movie. Escalators here, elevators there. Rooms dedicated to each historical member of the AG Family. Little wish cards that girls can collect and place in miniature folders. Just as good as shopping.

And when you get hungry - there is the American Girl Cafe. The food is wonderful. Dessert is served in tiny flower pots filled with mousse or peppermint ice cream topped with a silk daisy. The peppermint ice cream is pink and unexpectedly delicious. At the end of our meal, we checked to make sure no one was leaving a speck of ice cream behind. Not to be wasted! Every flowerpot was cleaned out.

The Cafe presented Celeste with a big cake shaped like a luxurious white gift tied with pink ribbon. The candles were placed higgeldy piggeldy in the center. I wondered how they stayed stationary. The candles were lit, and we sung to Celeste on exactly six years to the day of her birth. A day that marks one of the happiest of my life.

Toward the end, one of Celeste's very good friends Grace announced "Now that's what I call a party!" Amen, Grace!

Mia Carina Boutique

Brooke modeled these funky and oh so different sets from Desiree of Mia Carina Boutique. I took her out in the pink and zebra one the other day. I couldn't believe how many people stopped to tell me how adorable she was and where did I get this outfit?

You can find the auctions by looking to the right under my favorite Ebay ME Pages or by searching littlemissdesireev in Ebay.

Princesa

This is made with the Farbenmix pattern "Vida" . I love Euro patterns. Every time I see sets made with these patterns, I think to myself, "I want one!" I made this one this weekend, and I'm crazy about it.

My kids are always asking me to draw pictures for them to color. I've gotten pretty good at mermaids and fairies. I drew this particular fairy in a popular style. The original is hanging with tape right next to my computer. Celeste added the socks and black loafers. She also added the jewels at the points of the crown. I made a copy of the drawing and turned it into an applique.

I'll be offering it up as a custom auction in January.

Music To My Ears

Every morning, when we get in the car...okay every TIME we get in the car, the first thing Emme says is "Music Please!" So I'll push the button and Laurie Berkner, The Wiggles, Barbie, or whoever will sing their songs for our enjoyment.

This morning, I was not in the mood for cheerful lyrics. We were an hour late going to school, because I had had some food poisoning type problems at 4am this morning. In spite of my gastric woes, I managed to dress the girls and hand them a breakfast of toast and butter to eat in the Minnie Van.

"Music please!" Emme predictably stated.

"No music." said I.

"Why not?"

"Because I prefer to hear the sound of you crunching toast." I said sincerely.

"Oh man!" Emme moaned. "I prefer music."

Celeste's First Cartwheel

Yesterday evening, I was at the computer - typing the entry below - when Celeste walked in.

"Look Mom, I can do a cartwheel!" She announced.

I turned around to watch, and sure enough, Celeste made a near perfect cartwheel. Upon landing a graceful turn on her feet, she looked at me in surprise.

"Holy Crap!" I said. "You CAN do a cartwheel!"

Loyalty

Last night, I came home bearing a large basketful of homebaked cookies. All were delicious and all were beautiful. They were from Vanessa's Annual Christmas Cookie Exchange Party. I baked 72 cookies (12 one-half dozen packages) and came home with 72 delectable cookies made by 12 different people.

This afternoon I placed them all on a footed cakeplate and carefully placed a dome over them to keep them fresh. That alone was a pretty picture. It looked like something out of a quaint bakery. The cookies lay there sweetly - an edible arrangement, tempting anyone who passed by.

As I worked in the kitchen, Celeste was one who happened to pass by my display. "Mommy, can I have a cookie?" She asked.

"Yes! There are mint cookies, and orange sugar cookies, carmelized pecan cookies, and my favorite, mini chip teacakes." I offered.

I could have gone on pointing out the chocolate butterballs, the oatmeal coconut cookies, the toffee crunchies, but Celeste stopped me.

"Mom." She interrupted. "Which ones are the ones YOU baked?"

The vanishing oatmeal cookies - the ones I bake all the time, (only this time I got fancy and added dried cherries).

As my chest once again surged with heart swelling love for my loyal 6 year old, I watched her walk away content - one cookie in each hand.

And So The Bell Tolls

The mama praying mantis died this weekend.

You know, it was before her time. Praying mantises are supposed to live up to 14 months. This one was in her prime. She had just laid her egg sac.

Mrs. Margo thinks that a grasshopper that was sneaked in among the crickets gave her a mortal wallop before the mama bug ate it.

I think I saw a tear in the corner of Mrs. Margo's eye. I have to admit I felt a little sad too. I gave my condolences to the teacher.

"Oh don't worry." She said. "Praying mantises are like goldfish. You just flush them down the toilet and get a new one."

I can't wait.

?Como Amaneciste?

This morning Celeste serenely walked into the kitchen where I was making a pot of coffee. Her face was clear and free of worry.

"How did you wake up?" I asked her. "Did you have any bad dreams?"

She looked up at me with those big brown eyes that I love so much.
"No mommy. I didn't have any bad dreams last night."

We both smiled.

The Dream Catcher

Friday afternoon, Celeste brought home a kit to make a dream catcher. Her class had been studying native Americans for the past two weeks. One of the parents had donated dream catcher kits for each child to make their own. Since the kits were fairly complicated, Mrs. Margo sent them home as a weekend project with instructions to bring them back to school Monday or Wednesday to share.

Naturally, Celeste wanted to work on hers right away. My crafty fingers were itching to try out a new project and so I went to work. I ignored the instructions and made a beautiful dreamcatcher with string, beads and feathers which were included in the kit. To cover some knots that I had made, I glued some Perler beads directly onto the net part of the catcher. Lest you think I did it all myself, I must mention, that Celeste designed the color placement and pattern of the beads, floss and feathers.

We hung up the dreamcatcher on one of the bedposts Friday night. This morning, Saturday morning, Celeste came to me with a frown.

"Mom, the dream catcher didn't work. I had a bad dream." Celeste had learned that the dream catcher's job was to catch bad dreams so kids could sleep peacefully.

I didn't know what to say to that, but I did ask Celeste what kind of dream she had.

"It was a dream about bears chasing me." She said. She was concerned about the dream catcher the rest of the day. I didn't know how to help her.

Some time around 3pm, Celeste came to me with an idea. "Mom, I think that if I hang the dream catcher over my head, it will be able to catch my bad dreams. I don't think it could catch them from the bedpost."

She then went into the utility drawer and cut herself a piece of picture hanging wire. She took the wire and draped it over one of the slats of the bunk bed above her head. She fashioned one loop on each end of the wire and attached the loops to the dream catcher. When I went to look, I saw it well-positioned exactly over her pillow.

When nighttime came, we went through our usual routine and I tucked the girls into bed. I went to the computer to work a little bit. I heard the girls' bedroom door open. Emme came into our home office where I was working. She was frowning.

"Mommy, I can't sleep with the dream catcher. It's pulling the dreams out of my head." She said. Then with the graceful flow of her tiny hands she demonstrated how the catcher was pulling the dreams out of her ears. I went into the bedroom where I found Celeste frowning and sitting up.

I said, "Celeste, we need to move the dream catcher back to the bedpost or to the dresser drawer knob because it's making Emme have bad dreams, and if it's making Emme have bad dreams, then it's not working right."

"Mommy," reasoned Celeste, "It's not working right because you glued two Perler beads onto the net."

After some unsuccessful negotiating, I resorted to the truth. "Dream catchers don't really catch dreams girls. They don't catch bad dreams and they don't catch good dreams. They are just beautiful ornaments that the native Americans made to decorate their homes."

Celeste looked utterly disappointed. "But how are my bad dreams going to go away?"

"You pray." I told her. "That always works for me. It's not magic. It's real and it's the only thing that works. That, and thinking beautiful thoughts before going to sleep."

"But what should I think about?" Celeste asked.

We talked about her upcoming birthday and tomorrow's cookie party at Aunt Vanessa's. I moved the dream catcher to the dresser drawer knob and both girls were satisfied. "Mom, I have a story to tell you. It's a short one." Celeste yawned.

"Tell me."

"I can't remember. I just know it ends with happily ever after."

"Good night girls. I love you."

both: "Good night mama. I love you too."

The Praying Mantis

Celeste's Kindergarten class boasts a large bug cage which houses a female praying mantis. This is the second praying mantis this year. The first one was mercifully set free by the kindergartners last month.

I was relieved to learn that that first praying mantis had been set free. This particular bug had a killer appetite. An appetite which I blissfully knew nothing about until the day I saw a moth - a deceased moth - lying upon the cage.

"Look closer!" The kids urged me. I squinted my eyes and pretended to get up close. Five feet away was good enough for me. "It's half eaten." Celeste said matter-of-factly. "The moth must have flown in and landed on the cage for a break. The mantis ate as much of it as she could through the screen." Mrs. Margo explained. Nice.

The day I saw an empty cage did not come fast enough for me. The cage was empty for about 3 weeks. Imagine my dismay when last week, I saw a new resident of Kindy Cages Bug Hotel. A big, bright green praying mantis. One of the kids had caught a praying mantis and brought it to school. Apparently the earnest students of Mrs. Margo's class could not get enough real life entomology.

On Monday, I entered the classroom to pick up Celeste. She was waiting for me excitedly. "Look Mom! The praying mantis layed an egg sac! Come see!"
I did NOT want to come see, but being a good mom and swallowing my inexplicable nausea, I went to see the egg sac. I'll spare the sticky details.

Tuesday, Mrs. Margo sent home a note to the kids' parents asking them to catch and save crickets for the mama praying mantis to eat. Yesterday, I went in the classroom and Celeste's best friend Amber had brought in a jar of crickets. As I was signing Celeste in, Mrs. Margo held up the jar for everyone to admire. It had a sponge with fresh water, some lettuce and best of all, tiny crickets. Because, Mrs. Margo explained, the mama praying mantis could not handle eating the big crickets and....

I didn't want to hear any more. Choking back my breakfast, I ran into the pre-K classroom - Emme's bug free haven. "I'm not usually squeamish, but I just can't handle that praying mantis, her egg sac and her eating preferences." I explained to Emme's teachers.

They understood perfectly and let me catch my breath. What am I going to do when Emme's in Kindergarten?

Here's another disturbing thought: What am I going to do when those eggs hatch?

Something Fishy About This

This morning, Brooke woke up all smiles. I picked her up out of her crib and took her into her sisters' bedroom as is my usual habit. Celeste woke up immediately and welcomed the baby with open arms. As I was preparing for the morning, I could hear Celeste playing with Brooke. Then I heard Emme wake up.

"Toona!" Emme exclaimed with delight upon seeing her baby sister.
This must have bothered Celeste.

"Emme!" Celeste said (I imagine with a frown on her face). "Don't call Brooke 'Toona'. It reminds me of, ahhh, well, of TUNA!"

In my heart I felt an affectionate tug of gratitude toward my sensible oldest daughter.

Brooke's Official First Word

Yesterday, or the other day, 8 month old Brooke was fussing a little. I thought that maybe she needed a snack. Holding her in my arms, I went to the cupboard and pulled out a big box of cereal. I held it up to her and said, "Would you like some Cheerios? Brooke sized up the box carefully, then turned her small face up at me, and said, "Okay".

To No One There

I feel much better today.

I've been reading up on my symptoms, and I definitely had/have the flu. I read that it takes much longer to get over the flu than a cold. I also read that there is nothing you can do about it. The body aches that I have are my immune system kicking the flu's butt. My immune system is finally winning, but not without a final "how do you do" that is kicking MY butt. I am sad to see my sexy, hoarse voice go bye-bye, but it means that I'm almost perfectly well now. So one more day of rest and I'll be able to be myself once again.

i AM i said

It's not always laughs in the world through the eyes of Monica.

Sometimes it's all I can do to hang on. Not always, because generally I'm a happy person. Sometimes, like last night, however, I lose it.

See, I yelled at my girls. I was being a good mommy all day. Driving, preparing meals, taking care of baby, fulfilling my boutique orders, going to the post office, the market, sewing some more, playing with the baby, playing with the girls and making sure they did their homework, making dinner and on and on.

I wanted a break. Just a tiny one. I wanted to watch my recorded episode of Destilando Amor which is more than just a Spanish lesson anymore. It's a half hour escape. The baby was fine, practicing her crawling, but Celeste wanted a snack and I snapped.

"Please! Leave me alone! I'm desperate!" I cried after giving her bag of Bats N Jacks pretzels left over from Halloween. Celeste recoiled at my outburst. I immediately felt horrible, but I was still desperate.

Celeste, crying miserably ran upstairs to Emme and instructed her to remind me not to yell at them. We have a pact, the girls and I. When I am at my wit's end and starting to lose it, they are to remind me to calm down by saying "Mommy, you're getting frustrated." That's the pact that I broke yesterday because when Celeste's emissary came to give her message, I shouted her out of the tv room. "All I want is a few minutes! Go back to where you came from!"

They left me alone. I apologized later and they forgave me, but I still feel bad. That pact is not just for them. It's for me. It's to remind myself that these are gentle humans. Real people, not just kids, who deserve not to be yelled at ever. Small beings whose biggest goal in the world right now is to please me and Daddy and make us proud of them.

***

This morning, I went to the supermarket. I volunteered to make chile verde for Bruce's company potluck to celebrate the coming holidays. I carried Brooke in her little frontpack and pushed the cart around slowly because she enjoys this kind of outing.

I found myself looking for small things to please my older girls. A dollar set of ice cube trays which makes fruit shaped ice. A package of cherry Kool-Aid and some potatoes so that they could cut them up and make homemade stamps. I realized that I was doing these things to appease my conscience, but I didn't care. It made me feel better.

I shopped around picking out things for the potluck here and there. I went into the vegetable section. It was time to pick out the ingredients for the salsa part of the chile verde. I talked to Brooke as I examined the peppers. "Now what would Grandma pick to make the salsa?" I asked her.

Floods of memories overcame me. Green peppers, tomatoes, yellow peppers, jalapenos roasting on Grandma's stove. The blackened skin of the fragrant vegetables curling and flaking away... Holding the hot peppers under running water so as not to burn the fingers with the powerful oils...don't rub your eyes...Grandma singing under her breath so softly all you could hear was sss....ss....sss....

I was hit so hard with these memories I nearly buckled at the knees. I was holding a green pepper in my hand - a perfect green pepper. I focused on it so I wouldn't fall apart. I took some deep breaths and finished up my shopping. I wanted to cry so badly, but who can cry with a beautiful baby strapped to the front of them? I am an eye magnet with Brooke. It's amazing how many people turn and smile when we are out together. Babies make people happy.

I just finished up roasting my peppers. The pork is braising on the stove. I forgot to remember to wash my hands after handling the peppers. I am crying torrents and writing. I should be working. I rub my eyes and feel the stinging oils of the jalapenos. I miss Grandma, I miss my mom, I miss Bruce, I miss the girls, I miss Brooke who is napping right now.

I need a break. Now I know what "Calgon Take Me Away!" really means.

Cotton Candy and The Plumber

Yesterday morning, Bruce and I decided that the kitchen sink was clogged when we saw that all the coffee grounds I had dumped down the garbage disposal refused to be garbage disposed of and rebelled by overflowing clear brown buckets of water.

It was early, and we had just enjoyed breakfast. Adding the breakfast dishes to all the water cups from the night before, we began a nice pile of dirty tableware to accompany the lake of diluted coffee shimmering in my sink.

We knew we needed to call the plumber, but we were on our way to Chuck E. Cheese's. The one in Fullerton. The one that took us an hour and a half on the 5 freeway to get to, so that we could enjoy 3 hours of pizza, cake, frolicking children, rats, hens and other creatures.

When we got home, the girls begged their Daddy to let them eat their party bag contents - one of which was a large tub of cotton candy. One tub for each girl. Daddy, being the wholesome, organic, anti fast food nation kind of guy that he is, did not acquiesce to their requests. I quietly put the buckets of cotton candy aside and planned on throwing the addictive sugar away when the girls weren't looking.

The next morning, which was this morning, Bruce called from work and told me that the plumber would be arriving at the house in one hour. It was 9am. Hello? Today is Veteran's Day and I had slept in. I had one hour to shower and feed the girls and what? wash yesterday's breakfast and dinner dishes in the bathtub? NFW.

The girls woke up at the sound of the ringing phone and ran to me clamoring for breakfast. "Mom, please make us breakfast!" They said. "We are hungry for breakfast!"

Since that is one of my jobs as a sahm, I obliged them. I made them oatmeal and english muffins. I was happy with myself having given them a nutricious breakfast. I'm sure Bruce would have preferred me to feed them acidofilus laced with wheat germ accompanied with Ezekial bread toast and organic peaches shipped in from Georgia, but I do what I can with what I've got.

I added the breakfast dishes to my growing pile as the girls asked me for cotton candy. It was 9:15am. "You can't have cotton candy for breakfast." I said wisely. "Oh yes we can." Says Celeste. "Daddy said we could. Besides it's not for breakfast, we already had breakfast, remember?"

Yes, I remembered. It was no problem to remember because they had just finished their oatmeal and toast 4 minutes before. "So Daddy said you could have cotton candy after breakfast?" I didn't believe these guys for a second. "Yes, Mommy. He said we could have our cotton candy after breakfast today!" Celeste insisted.

I was not to be fooled by these two. "So if I call Daddy on the phone right now, he is going to say, 'Yes, the girls can have cotton candy.'"

"Yes. Go ahead and call him." Emme says firmly. Celeste hesitated and I moved in for the kill. I picked up the phone and threatened, "I am going to dial the phone right now..."

Celeste hung her head and shook it. Emme reasoned, "Why don't you call Daddy tomorrow?"
"So you want to eat cotton candy tomorrow?" I asked her.
"No. We want to eat it today. Why do you have to call Daddy?"
"To see if he really said you could have the candy today."

I dialed the phone and Bruce answered.
I asked him. "Did you say that the girls could have cotton candy after breakfast?"
I knew what the answer was going to be.
Silence.
"Yes", he said, "I did."

I was nonplussed. This is the guy who frowns when I serve the girls mini Krusteaz pancakes before school. This is the guy who banned me from McDonalds. The one who will never let me buy Ralph's meat.

I gave the girls their treat when the doorbell rang. It was the plumber a half hour early. I was in my Victoria's secret nightshirt but the baby was in my arms covering my braless chest so I let him in.

He swept aside the toys and dirty dishes that blocked his way. He fixed our problems while the girls supervised, munching handfuls of cotton candy.

I paid the hunky 20-something handyman and thanked him. he looked me squarely in the eye and said "No. Thank you."

I like to believe he was thanking me for that little dose of reality.

Hurry Up and Wait

I've had the flu this past week.

Vanessa and I had made plans quite a while back to attend a craft show. The show was to run from 11am to 7pm. We were to be at the Pomona County Fairgrounds to set up by 9:00am. I live in Northridge, and it takes me 45 minutes to get to Whittier where Vanessa lives.

Furthermore, I needed my mom to help with Brooke, so we invited her along. I needed to factor in the time it takes to go to Mom's house so that I could pick her up and take her along with me to meet at V's house. It takes 20 minutes to get to the Pomona County Fairground from Vanessa's house.
and
I'm bad at math. Numbers make me dizzy whether I have the flu or not.

The day before the craft show, Mom calls:

Mom - "What time are you coming to pick me up tomorrow?"

Me - "Oh, around 6am."

Mom - "What? Do you mean you will be rolling into my driveway at 6am? SIX."

Me - "Yep. That's the plan."

Mom (doubtfully, and rightly so) - "Okay. See you tomorrow."

Next day

It's 7am and I call my mom to tell her I am leaving my house.

Me: "Hi Mom! I'm leaving now."

Mom: "Uh, Okay. I'll see you when you get here. Bye." She sounds a little strange.

I get into my car (with Brooke) and my mobile phone rings. It's Mom.

Mom: "Hi. Don't pick me up at my house. I'll meet you at Vanessa's. She's having an anxiety attack. Don't you know it takes TWENTY minutes to get from her house to the Fairgrounds?"

Me. "It's only 7:05. That gives us two hours. I'll be there in 40 minutes."

Mom: "Well, Vanessa is fit to be tied. Get OVER HERE."

I arrive at Vanessa's house at 7:45am. I call from inside my car. "Hello!" Vanessa answers the phone cheerily. "I'm here. Ready to go." I say drily.
"Come on in for a spell," Vanessa says warmly and hangs up.

The front door opens and my mom walks out smiling. She helps me with my bags and with Brooke. My brother walks out of the house and greets me with a hug. "Come on in! I have breakfast for you!" He says affectionately.

I feel like I am at a surprise birthday party for myself.

I walk in the door and Sabrina runs to give me yet another hug. Chloe twinkles a hello. Oscar gallantly pulls out a chair and places two warm and tasty breakfast burritos in front of me.

Vanessa swirls into the kitchen in a cloud of trendy sparkles. She is sporting a new haircut and some edgy specs. "Good Morning!" She tells me with a freshly brushed smile. She sweeps up my bags and marches outside to pack them into her van.

"Hurry up and eat those Burritos!" Oscar says sotto voce as he shoves a coffee mug into my hand. "Vanessa is having a conniption fit."

Confused and fuzzy brained from the flu I am trying to get over, I mumble something about hey she's lucky I'm even here. Oscar and Sabrina tense up at my insurgent comment. Vanessa comes back into the house and everyone is all smiles once again.

"I'll just put Brooke into the car while you eat." Vanessa says helpfully. Now I am trapped. She knows I won't sit for a spell with my baby in the mini van. I gobble down my burrito, gulp down my coffee and join my daughter. Mom gets in too. It is 8:00am.

We are on our merry way toward the fairgrounds when Vanessa says in a most polite tone:

"Thank you for coming with me to the craft fair. I know you don't feel good. I really appreciate it."

"That's right." I say. "You owe me. And I will make you pay." I really do not plan on making her pay, but I like how it sounds.

We arrive at the fairgrounds at 8:30am. By 9:00, we are set up and ready to sell. The show is set to start at 11:00.

We sit there looking at eachother like the fish in Finding Nemo's final scene: Now What?

My mom holds Brooke and scolds, "Hey, did you forget to put socks on this kid?" Vanessa cannot help but chime in, "Monica! Her feet are like iceblocks!"

I am happy. I get to spend the next 10 hours with these ladies who happen to be two of my most favorite women in the world.

I couldn't think of a better way to spend my free time.

A Happy Sneak

Because that's what it really is, and because I couldn't come up with a better title than what already is, I present this:

http://pearblossom.typepad.com/pearblossom/2007/11/happy-sneak.html

Because I can't link it, I don't know why, must be that flu I have, I ask you to to cut and paste if you wanna look-see!

Thanks!

Conversations in the Minnie Van

Lately, Emme has taken to calling Brooke "Oonie". To me this is a temporary nickname, just a nonsense word that she recently came up with, so I let it go.

I had to put down my foot however when, as we were driving home from school today, she affectionately called her baby sister "Oonya." Now it's not spelled the same, but it sounds the same as the word fingernail in Spanish.

"Emme", I say as we're rambling down Chatsworth, "You're calling the baby 'Fingernail' Oonya means 'fingernail' in Spanish".

I receive for my efforts an unexpected and intense reaction from Celeste. "WOW! I can't believe it!" She shouts from the back seat. "Mom, do you understand what's happening?! This is so great! EMME SPEAKS SPANISH!"

With a frown of admiration on her face (kind of like a news reporter), Celeste turns to Emme and demands, "How did you learn Spanish?"

Emme smiles and answers, "I just know it." She chucks Brooke affectionately under the chin and coos "Oonya..."

"Mom!" Celeste says, "Emme just called Brooke Oonya again! Emme! Mom says that's a bad word! A bad Spanish word!"

"Fingernail in Spanish is NOT a bad word." I explain. "It's just not something I would want to be called. Okay?"

"Okay Mommy." Then Emme asks worriedly, "What's a Feen-ger-nel?"

And off we go over the hill toward home...

Brooke's Nicknames

When Brooke was born, Celeste took one look at her and said, "Ooooh, you're so cute! You're so tiny. I'm going to call you, uhhhhh..." Blank look.

"Mommy, I can't call her Tiny. That's what you call ME."

"That's right." I say. "Why don't we just call her Brooke?"

Celeste gives me another blank look because she's thinking. "I know!" She says with one finger pointing into the air - pointing at the little cartoon lightbulb hanging above her head.

"I'm going to call you "Sign-ey" Celeste tells the baby with finality. "Because it rhymes with Tiny."

I tried to discourage this strange nickname, but once Emme caught on, it was over for me.

"If you must call her something other than Brooke" I reason, "why don't you try to call her Anneliese?" Anneliese is Brooke's middle name. We named her for the main protagonista in the Barbie movie "The Princess and The Pauper".

Both would blow me off with words I love to hear. "Okay Mommy."

They call her Sign-ey, or Shiny, Shine, and my personal favorite: The Sign.

I thought this was just something they would get over, but no, now I am calling my baby Shine, Shiny, and Sign-ey. I can't bring myself to call her "The Sign" yet.

Maybe I'm too supersticious.

Attitudes Caskets

When we lived in Sherman Oaks, I loved to shop at all the mom and pop places on Magnolia, Burbank and Ventura Blvds. These unique stores had charming names like "Floral and Hardy "or "Da Bombe Ice Cream Shoppe".

Naturally, I was not surprised when zipping along one of these boulevards I spotted with the corner of my eye a shop named "Attitudes Caskets". I was delighted. What a bold name.

"When I die," I told Bruce one day, "Please bury me in an Attitudes Casket." Bruce solemnly promised that he would.

Satisfied with my burial plans, I would pass that shop and sigh in contentment until the day I read the sign with more clarity. "Attuades Caskets" was what the owner had intended for us to read, and that's what it said.

I think about it once in a while. Attuades must be the name of the craftsman who builds these final homes for the tired shells of our immortal souls. How fortunate he is to have such an eye-catching name. A name that could cause someone like me to think about being buried with attitude.

Today is the Day of the Dead and I honor Mr. Attuades.

Feliz Dia de los Muertos!

The Homemaker's Elves

If you read my blog regularly, you may be under the impression that my house is mess.

Actually, it is usually neat and tidy. For I, like the shoemaker of the well-known fairy tale, have elves.

It's great. Once a week or once every two weeks, it depends on how chaotic my life is at the time, I leave the garden gate open and 75 dollars on the kitchen counter. I walk out the door, go shopping or to the nail salon (well, that was before Brooke) and 3 hours later, I come back to a freshly cleaned home.

Also, every night, except when Bruce is on a business trip, the toys get magically put away. My shoes too. I find this annoying re my shoes, but I keep quiet about it. I don't want to upset the magic.

Co-Conspirators

These are the two whose mission it is to keep me from a life of liesure and relaxation:

Celeste - "Mommy, you're using a TOY spoon to feed the baby, Silly!"

Bruce - "Honey, I'd like to live in a house where I don't have to climb over 5 piles of laundry just to reach the bathroom."

Celeste - "Mommy, don't leave the baby on the Bumbo seat on top of the kitchen counter!"

Bruce - "Why do you have to be so nonchalant about butterfly stickers all over the bathroom walls? Tell Emme it is NOT okay!"

Bathrooms and Butterflies

This morning, Celeste came into my bedroom to play with me and Brooke while Daddy was taking a shower. I wondered where Emme was, but she is a quiet kind of kid who enjoys playing by herself, so I didn't call out for her.

"Mom, I want to take a shower too." Celeste declares.

"Sure." I am agreeable. "Let's get you ready to take a shower then."

We walk to the kids' bathroom. Celeste is ahead of me. The door to the interior part of the bathroom, the part where the shower is, is mysteriously closed.

The door opens and Emme pokes her head out with a sunshiney smile.

"Mommy, close your eyes. I've got a surprise for you!"

I suppress a small shudder.

I close my eyes and say, "Oh no. I'm not sure I'm going to like this surprise."

Celeste who had been scouting around says gently, "Don't worry mommy. You're gonna love it."

They lead me through the door and Emme tells me to open my eyes.

Firmly attached to the bathroom walls are about 20 butterfly stickers. Not the American kind that is easy to peel off. No. This is the kind from China. The kind of stickers that is like vinyl wallpaper. The kind that peels off in layers. The ones Nana Miller sent in her Halloween surprise box.

As I wonder how I am going to get these stickers off without damaging the drywall, Emme points out her favorites to me.

I can't help but point out MY favorites.

The three of us stand back and admire Emme's work.

"Daddy is going to be furious". Celeste states matter of factly.

No, I think to myself. He will be as delighted with the butterflies as I am.

What WON'T Go Into My Blog

This is what I'm NOT going to put in my blog:

Last night after I put the girls to bed, Celeste calls out "Mom, Emme's got a bloody nose!" This frustrates me because Celeste and Emme had been picking on eachother and I thought Emme had picked her own nose to get some attention.

I said, "Emme. Were you picking your nose to make it bleed?" She denied it, but I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. Just in case she WAS picking her nose, I wanted to drive home the point that she should not do it.

"Emme, if you pick your nose, your nostrils will stretch out and become
big like an ape's."

"Okay Mommy." Emme says quietly.

Celeste, who had been listening to my lecture, asked, "Mommy, did you do that?"

"Do what, Sweetie?"

"Pick your nose?" She looks worried.

I am stunned. "You think MY nostrils are big?"

Celeste nods solemnly. "Yes, Mommy, did you pick your nose to make your nostrils big like that?"

omg - I was rolling on the floor laughing so hard because she looked
so worried. I'll bet that kid NEVER picks her nose - ever!!!

But I'll never put THAT on my blog. Tooo embarassing!

My Favorite Name

This afternoon Bruce treated us to some In N Out burgers and shakes. He brought them home and divvied the goods out onto our granite peninsula-style counter: One cheeseburger and fry combo each for me and Bruce, one hamburger with no bun for Emme and a cheeseburger with no cheese for Celeste. Sadly, In N Out burgers come without pickles.

We dig into our burgers as I feed our hapless baby organic mashed peas. "Can I give Brooke a fry?" Celeste asks. "Absolutely not." is Bruce's not unexpected answer.

I smell trouble.

"Mommy gave one to Brooke the other day." Celeste reasons. Bruce glares at me. I give my best unconcerned shrug. "Yes I did." I say giving Brooke another spoonful of peas. Bruce is easily distracted by Emme who is asking for more ketchup.

"Mommy," Celeste says, conversationally, "What's your favorite name?"

"My favorite names are Celeste, Emme and Brooke." I answer.

"No. What's your favorite ONE name?" Celeste asks with a dimpled grin.

"Miller." I respond with my own dimpled grin.

"No Mom. What's your favorite FIRST name?" Celeste insists.

"Bruce."

Celeste sits back with a defeated sigh.

Bruce soothes his daughter.
"That's the politically correct answer, Sweetie."

"Pass the ketchup Emme." I say, and I give Brooke another spoonful of peas.

Emme's Magic Show

Last night, Emme had a magic show at Aunt Vanessa's house.

Nana, Aunt Vanessa, Chloe, Brooke and I were seated in the family room small-talking when we were interrupted by a fanfare trumpet and a poof of smoke. Appearing through the smoke as it evanesced, was The Great Emery holding a magic wand.

"I", The Great Emery announced with her small chest puffed out, "have a magic wand, and I am going to make these shoes disappear!" She pointed her magic wand at a dainty pair of dirty white sandals lying on the floor. She waved her wand and frowned. Then her face lit up with an idea.

"Okay now everybody. Close your eyes." The Great Emery spoke with authority. "I will now make these shoes DISAPPEAR!"

We closed our eyes in breathless anticipation. We heard an eery rustling sound. "Open your eyes!" Emme ordered.

We opened our eyes and the shoes were gone! We gasped in amazement. Chloe twinkled her approval at such a clever trick. Nana praised Emme for her impressive sleight of hand. Aunt Vanessa and I clapped in delight. Brooke gazed at her big sister with wide-eyed awe.

Pleased with herself, Emme smiled and said, "Now I will make the shoes reappear! Close your eyes!" Again, we heard the eery rustling sound followed by the command, "Open your eyes!"

The shoes were back! We clapped heartily. Emme, delighted with her own performance and feeling rather confident, decided to make us all disappear.

The Great Emery flourished her wand. One by one, I disappeared, Nana disappeared and Aunt Vanessa disappeared. Another wave of that mystical stick and one by one we each reappeared: I with a curtsy, Nana with a twirl and Aunt Vanessa with her hands raised gracefully in the air like a model in The Price Is Right.

Exhausted, but content, Emme bowed and proclaimed that it was time for a snack. We agreed, and all of us made some chocolate cupcakes disappear forever.

My Celebrity Look-Alikes

Changing Lightbulbs

Vanessa and I had been trying to get each other on the phone for a couple of days. We kept missing each other until Saturday afternoon when we could both sit down for a few minutes, okay a couple of hours, and catch up.

As I'm talking to her, I can hear lots of commotion in the background. We're conversing and every 2 or three sentences or so, Vanessa shouts out, "They're in the laundry area!" or "Did you look?" and "Don't make me look for you!"

"What's going on over there?" I ask idly.

"Oscar's looking for his workboots." She explains, punctuated with "You and Sabrina have no idea how to FIND things!" (Not ME and Sabrina, Oscar and Sabrina.)

"Tell him you'll pinch him if you end up finding it yourself. That's what my mom would say".

Kindhearted Vanessa ignores my advice, choosing instead to rustle around and shout out, "I found them!"

"Pinch him!" I egg on. Again, Vanessa ignores me. I hear my brother grumble something in the background. He's saying something about the boots being old. "You do NOT need new workboots!" She scolds.

"What does he need workboots for?" I am interested. You see, Vanessa and Oscar own a large property. 1/4 acre. In L.A. County, that's HUGE. They have plenty of land with lots of opportunities to use workboots.

"He's going to change the lightbulb on the front porch." Vanessa tells me with a straight face. I'm sure her face is straight even though I can't see her. I can pretty much tell by her voice that her face is perfectly straight.

"So he needs workboots to change a lightbulb? NEW workboots?"

"Oh, you know your brother."
Vanessa is exasperated with ME and changes the subject.

Shooflies and Fairy Dust

The other night I and the girls were seated in the dining room actually dining. I can't remember what was on the menu, but I do remember the conversation.

Emme was self-satisfied because she had helped me prepare the meal while Celeste was upstairs playing computer games. Emme was pretending that she was the chef and that her name was "Sophia". Chef Sophia soon became tired of her name and decided to change it to an old time favorite - "Butterfly Kite". This frustrated Celeste to no end.

"What? Why can't you be Sophia? Why do you always have to be Butterfly Kite?"

I could not convince Celeste that Emme was still the same character, just with a different name. Celeste was becoming more and more furious. Emme was implacable. She was NOT Sophia the chef anymore. She was Butterfly Kite, and that was final.

After dinner, Butterfly Kite went upstairs to "The Tchiken" to get dessert. Meanwhile, Celeste looks at me and frowns profoundly. "Why does she have to be so, so EMME-ish!" she says.

Emme comes back downstairs and plops in front of us a small board book ladened with pink Mega blocks and a toy cake. "It's Shoofly Cake", she says. "It's made with Shooflies." she explains looking me in the eye. "They're dead."

Celeste perks up and asks for a slice.

I ask for a slice too. "Where did you get the Shooflies from?" I ask, sincerely curious to know. Emme looks at me blankly. "From The Tchiken"

"Oh! I know where she gets them from!" Celeste calls out, now in a better mood.

"I'll go get some." Emme says and runs up stairs.

Celeste's glowers once again. "I wanted to get them. I was going to get a piece of Swiss Cheese. I was going to say that you squeeze the Shooflies out of the holes right onto the cake." Delicious.

Emme comes back with her hands in fists. "Here they are! She pronounces and opens up her tiny hands with a flair. I swear I could see fairy dust and Shooflies tumble out like the roses from Juan Diego's poncho.

"oooooohhh! I KNEW she'd do that!" Celeste growls. "I liked MY idea better!"

I guess I could take my Shooflies from either girl any time.

The Land of The Freeze and The Hole of The Brained

I have to write this down before I forget:
Celeste and Emme go to gymnastics. Emme I take by herself (w/Brooke too)while Celeste is in school. Celeste goes after school, so Emme has to come along and wait for one hour.

During this hour, I have to figure out how to entertain Emme for one whole hour. This is pretty easy because Emme is a very imaginative and creative person. She can make toys out of french fries. Last week, I brought along a box of crayons - 96 to be exact. Emme did not actually color with these crayons, she arranged them in different rows like little soldiers.

Emme was the sergeant of these colorful warriors, directing them and giving them various orders. I suppose they were on parade duty this last time as Emme has no experience on the battle field yet. She marched them through various formations, not letting them at ease until they had sung their national anthem.

I heard Emme singing quietly as is her wont, and asked her to repeat the last lines because I wasn't sure exactly what I had heard was right. She smiled at me, happy to oblige, and belted out:

"Oh say, does that star spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the freeze
And the hole of the brained"

I don't think Sergeant Emme's troops are ready for combat yet.

this is what I really look like

Here's the thing: People are always asking me "how old is the baby?" This is a good question because Brooke is huge. She is the size that Celeste was at 1 year old. I like to answer her age in months, but it's really nice to answer her age in months plus weeks. For example, Brooke is 5 months, 3 weeks old. That's a really nice, exact answer. No beating around the bush. She not barely 5 months. She's not 5 months going on 6. She is 5 months, 3 weeks. How do I know? My lilypie ticker. So cool.

Okay - So my beloved sil linked my fledgling blog as one of her favorites. So now I have to write something interesting and entertaining for you, Vanessa, who will probably be my only reader/audience!

This week was back to everything week. Back to school, back to gymnastics, back to ballet school... That would be enough if it were for one kid, but it's now times two. I'm also dragging along my precious baby who is not appreciating the multiple car rides one bit.
That's not to say anything or even complain. This is a stream on consciousness thing - isn't that what blogs are all about?

There's so much to say about today, but I am so physically exhausted from 6 round trips across the valley. I just wanted to mention a bon mot from Celeste:

It was about 12:30 pm. We were driving back to school, just Celeste, Brooke and I from a doctor appointment, (I needed proof of immunizations, or they wouldn't let in the school after Friday!) and I need to grab a quick bite for my little girl. I ordered chicken nuggets from the mcD drive through - a happy meal. At the pay window, I couldn't find my debit card and had to drive over to the side. I couldn't find it and still can't find it.

All I had was a couple of dollars in cash so I went back and ordered a cheeseburger. Celeste shouts out from the back"no cheese!". So I said, "a cheeseburger with no cheese, please." I wasn't joking. What else can you buy with a couple of dollars? I was desperate. Later Celeste is eating her cheeseburger with no cheese in the backseat and is enjoying it immensely. She's never had a mcD's any kind of burger before. She is delighted that there is a pickle in the middle. And here's one of the cutest things she has said up to date (right up there with "why did they name a van after Minnie Mouse?") : "Wow this cheeseburger is great with no cheese! They even replaced the cheese with a pickle! That's a nice touch~!"

I can't forget these things. Blogs are pretty cool.

I've been inspired by my sil's and my good friend's blogs. I think to myself, "why not make your own blog?" I'm trying. I think that it's a good opportunity to teach myself some html. It's also an opportunity to use some of those cool lilypie tickers that I see sometimes on kid boards. I love my new tickers, but I think I put them in the wrong space. I think I'll figure it out one of these days. I also think I'll figure out how to post photographs as one day this will be my photography blog. (I hope.)

While I'm at it - posting my plans for this blog - I might as well make a to do list:
figure out how to get those lilypie tickers in the right spot
figure out if I really do want lilypie tickers on my blog
figure out how to get photos on this blog
figure out how to link my favorite people's blog on my new blog

That's a pretty good list for now.