Sundae Moonday

On My Mom's Retirement

2010-01-29T09:41:00.000-08:00

Set me a task in which I can put something of my very self, and it is a task no longer; it is joy; it is art.

Bliss Carman

My mom was always a good artist. Anyone who comes from the Armendariz family is a good artist. Not just in the just the usual way - our art manifests itself in many different means that are nonetheless art. For example, my cousin Yvonne (an Armendariz) has a unerring eye for beauty and can compose beautiful photographs that make you "feel" what she saw through the camera's lens. It just comes naturally to her. My brother Oscar can design web pages with logic and balance. His desire for detail and ability to see and create in bits and bytes what no one else can see makes his work unique and sought after. He has that extra "touch" that one cannot put a finger on. Art after all, is not meant to be esoteric. It should be felt by anyone who is in contact with it. It should inspire and enable one to feel what the artist is feeling. Art is something to be shared.

My mom started out her education in the traditional way. After high school, she went to Art School. When I lived at home, she used to keep a large white Samsonite suitcase filled with old photographs and love letters which she would share with me from time to time. We would look through the memories, and after a while put the suitcase away. Rarely, would we ever get to the bottom of the suitcase where she had stored her portfolio of sketches. Though I may have glimpsed them once or twice, they are etched in my memory. They were a fleeting view of my mom's talent. The buds of a gifted designer. To this day, I know that her skill was extraordinary, and that she would have gone far had she continued on with her education and pursued a career in anything she chose.

But she chose to have a family. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, she got married, and to my gratefulness had two kids: me and my brother. She was the best stay at home mom a kid could ask for. We were happy and well fed and well educated and well loved. At some point, I can't remember when because it didn't make a difference in my secure little life, she took on a job as teacher's assistant. I know she did, because that's when her stories started. Some time when I was in grade school.

She was very happy and would come home and tell us about her kids and the principal and the other teachers. I learned about one teacher who was timing her pregnancy just right to make sure that her baby was born under the right sign in the right year at the right time. I think my mom found this amusing, but logical. I learned about the different people my mom admired. She was so happy, there wasn't anyone I can recall that she did not admire. I learned a lot about character through my mom and her experiences at school. I learned how she thought and how others thought. She was always very opinionated and enthusiastic. My mom is a good storyteller.

As the years went by, she formed many beautiful friendships. She came across quite a few fascinating and interesting people from all walks of life. Her stories were rich and colorful. The people she worked with were inspiring and quirky - all around characters worthy of a thick absorbing novel. Every day she would come home with something fun to share. These people helped form who I am as I listened and became inspired by these artists in their own rights.

Not only were there stories about her co-workers - the teachers and the teacher's aides - there were stories about the children she worked with. Their bravery in navigating the harsh high school world with their special abilities; their unique personalities; their triumphs and despair; the love their parents had for them; the love they lacked. There were the ones that didn't get so much of it, but had enough guts to continue on and pass that test or get to that prom whatever it took.

How fortunate my brother and I were to receive the complicated and colorful tapestry of stories that my mom wove throughout the years as she worked in the school system. I don't think I ever heard her complain about going to work once. Her life was fulfilled in spite of certain setbacks that tried to get her down - that tried to get us down. She was unsinkable. She rode above it all with joy and excitement every day. Her work was her art. She put her whole self into it, and received back a hundredfold. It overflowed to me and my brother.

So now though the canvas has changed, it is not time for her to put her palette, her brushes, her her quill, or her notebook aside. She has the rest of the world to paint. There are more stories for her to tell. Her home is her new studio. The world is her new classroom brimming with untold stories. She needs to get out there and bring them back to us. We demand it of her. Her capacity to show us the details that can be missed by the ordinary eye is the heart of her artistry.

How fortunate we are to know her and have her share her world with us!

2009-12-18T10:36:00.000-08:00

You would think that after having 3 little girls, I would have my mothering instincts filled and overflowing. But after having Colin and Timmy over the other day, I find that there's room for more. When Colin called me Mommy, my heart skipped a beat. And when Timmy would crawl over to me, sit, and raise his arms for me to pick him up, my heart skipped another beat. My favorite moment of the day was cradling Timmy he drank his apple juice. He was completely relaxed and just melted in the crook of my elbow. I could have sat with him for hours.
No way do I want more children to raise, but it's nice to know that I don't feel like "I've been there and done that". I've been lucky to be a stay at home mom. I don't feel that my kids are growing too quickly, and I don't wonder where the time has gone. I get my fill of motherhood pretty much by 6pm, and that's okay. There is something to being sated rather than yearning. I know what that's like too.

Can-tankerous

2009-12-11T08:39:00.000-08:00

I'm not one to buy too much canned food. I try to keep things fresh and simple for meals. I look at the conveyor belt in the supermarket as a canvas of sorts for the things I have chosen: Grains, meats, vegetable, fruit, dairy - milk, bread, cheese, eggs. If I can keep the junk out save for the occasional box of cookies (which I usually don't buy because I bake), I am happy with my classic combination of groceries on that belt. I imagine the checker giving me an internal thumb's up as my choices fit for a children's story book illustration roll past and under the scanner.

Canned foods are, however, a necessity. They are geat to have on hand in a pinch. Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup is wonderful to heat up and put in thermoses when I have no idea of what to stick in the girls' lunch boxes. They love it. I need to have my Pet Milk on hand always, because what if I want a cup of coffee (decaf please)? Only Pet Milk as a creamer will do. It reminds me of my grandparents. When Grandma would run out of regular milk, she would make my hot chocolate with Pet, and though it didn't taste quite the same, I loved the improvisation. It's the flavor of my childhood. I am lost without cans of Pet Milk in my cupboard.

Libby's Pure Pumpkin Puree is another must have. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin empanadas - every home needs it. Stewed tomatoes for spanish rice, maybe throw in some canned peas, Ortega Chili for casseroles, Las Palmas enchilada sauce for the times (mostly always) when I don't want to use real New Mexico chili powder for the real thing. Besides, the kids are too small for the spiciness of the real thing, so the cheat of Las Palmas is acceptable in my (maybe not my mom's) book.

See, my canned choices are important. I don't have a ton of room in my pantry, so I have to be sure that what is in there is going to be used. No canned bread, no canned german potato salad, no lentils, no boston baked beans (but I love Trader Joe's Cuban Black Beans), no turkey chili, and definitely no Menudito or canned tamales are to be found in this house. So when the subject of the school canned food drive came up this week, I kept quiet.

In spite of my best canned food scrooge efforts, the girls are motivated philanthropists, and it was only a matter of time before Emme started scouring my meager stores. She came to me on Monday and sweetly asked for a can. How could I refuse? Sure. I gave her a can of Swanson's chicken broth. She stuck it in her backpack. I put my finger to my lips while pointing to Celeste who hadn't caught the charity bug yet.

Tuesday, Emme asked for another can. "Can I have two cans?" she asked, again sweetly. "I get little check marks next to my name for each can I bring in, and Om already has 20." Hmmm...I grudgingly look in my cupboard and hand her a can of Wolfgang Puck's cream of mushroom (great for casseroles) and a forgotten can of Dynasty Water Chestnuts. "Thanks Mom!" She sticks them in her backpack and is off. Wednesday: 2 more cans and Celeste finally catches the drift. "Hey Mom!" She frowns. "I need to take in cans too!" I offer her a can of diced tomatoes. It's starting to hurt. "But Emme is taking two!" Okay. One of my Pet Milks go into her backpack. No worries. Two more cans of Pet left for me.

Thursday comes and Emme goes in for the big guns. She convinces her dad to help her store 8 cans - Eight! - of my precious, well thought out supply into her backpack. I turn my head and walk away, thinking of the shopping I am going to have to do to replace this stuff. Or worse, what if I run out of salsa and need that can of El Pato, and it's not there anymore? Luckily, Celeste seemed uninterested. Until this morning. "Mom? Today is the last day of the week, and I would like to take in some more cans for the poor. May I have a few more?" I tried to mask a pained look, but she caught it. Her sensitive face fell and she said, "It's okay. I won't take anymore if you really need it." I bent down to her, ashamed that I am so selfish with my bounty. "No sweetie, the poor need it more than I do."

I hand her my pumpkin puree, my last two Pet Milks, some sweetened condensed milks (great for magic cookie bars), and my Trader Joe's Cuban Style Black Beans. I watch her stick them all into her backpack and stagger toward the Minnie Van with her similarly burdened little sister.

I take a look into my clutter free cupboards, and am delighted to be a part of the giving.

Convos in the Minnie Van 11/09

2009-11-20T22:06:00.001-08:00

We had the pleasure of spending some time with Celeste and Emme's teachers this afternoon for parent conferences.

We learned that they are doing well, and are good students. (I also learned that Celeste needs to work on not passing notes to her friends. I found this utterly delightful, because I worry about her being such a serious child. Of course, I agree that note passing and whispering in class is not a good habit, but still, I'm happy that she can be naughty once in a while.)

We decided to take our superstars out to dinner to celebrate their accomplishments. While I drove the Minnie Van to the latest greatest new diner (Dad following in his car), I praised them and told them how proud we were of them.

Then Emme started to cry.

"Mommy, I'm crying, but I don't know why." I could see her in my rear view mirror wiping tear after tear from her beautiful face.

I asked, "Does something hurt?" I was sure I didn't say anything to hurt her feelings, but I questioned anyway, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no." She answered, still weeping. "I don't know why I'm crying. There's no reason for me to be crying. I just am."
We all let her have her personal space, and enjoyed the ride to the restaurant listening to music.

We arrived at our destination. I parked and unbuckled the girls from their seatbelts.

Climbing out of the van, Emme jumped into my arms and smiled at me. "Mommy I know why I was crying now." She was radiant. "I was happy. I was crying tears of happiness."

Celeste, who has experienced this type of tears many times while watching Cinderella, or Hotel for Dogs, or even Breakfast at Tiffany's with me - we have shared some good happy cryfests, she and I - pumped her fist in the air.

"I knew it! I could tell those were tears of joy."

Emme laughed her bubbly laugh. She was thrilled to have become a bonafide member of our emotional ranks.

Arm in arm, we all marched off to join Daddy at Bob's Big Boy.

My Theological Beauty

2009-11-19T11:26:00.000-08:00

Emme, with her sunny disposition and sense of humor belies her deep sense of self in contrast to her sister who is very serious, thoughtful and gifted with natural integrity.
Since I have the privilege of raising this dual natured child, I know her well, and am careful with how I teach her what I am supposed to be teaching her.

When she was around four years of age, she asked me, "Mommy, what happens to us when we die?" I gave her my best. "Emme, we are like caterpillars on this earth. We go about our business, and one day, we wrap it all up and take a very long rest. When we wake up, we find that we are transformed into something wonderful. Just like the caterpillar has no idea he will become a butterfly one day - something completely different - we have no idea what will happen to us. But I guarantee you it will be just as awesome."

Emme took that explanation to heart, and has been satisfied since. However, she is so in tune with the spiritual world that she comes to me with some questions that stump me and are not so easily answered.

Celeste was having anxiety problems, so I took her to the park and talked to her while Emme and Brooke played. We talked out the things that were bothering her, and I taught her how to meditate. I gave her a scene with animals and grass and water and showed her how to relax her body and give in to being one with God. She loved it. Happy and relaxed, she joined her sisters while I sat on the bench and supervised.

Eventually Emme came up to me and asked, "Mommy, what were you talking about with Celeste?" I explained that we talked out Celeste's problems and used meditation as a way to relax. "Would you like to try it?" I asked. "Sure." Emme agreed to it. I took her through the same routine, the park, the animals, the water, but Emme didn't buy it. "So what did you think?" I asked her. "Mom, all I saw were animals, grass and water. I didn't see God. When I want to see Him, I pray." Everyone is different, so I told her that that was wonderful.

Emme then looked up at me with her clear eyes and asked, "Mommy, do all prayers come true? Because every day, I pray for Chloe to be able to walk." I did not know how to answer this. If she had not thrown in her Chloe prayer, I would have answered 'yes'. But I don't know if she will ever walk. I dug deep. I didn't want to lie, but I believe in miracles, and I believe in prayer, so I told Emme the same. Emme was satisfied once again and ran off to play with her sisters.

Recently, the girls were chatting with me and asked, "What's a conscience? "It's the little voice inside you that tells you right from wrong. Sometimes cartoons show it as a little devil on one shoulder and a little angel on the other shoulder." We discussed these little characters and different ways our conscience shows up. Ultimately, we decided it's knowing the difference between good and evil.

Again, Emme looked at me with clarity in her eyes and asked, "Did Adam and Eve have a conscience?" I was stunned. What a good question. I was quiet, and she went on, "Because my teacher said that before they ate the apple, they didn't know the difference between good and evil." I thought and decided that they didn't know the difference because there was no evil around to make that difference. Emme accepted that idea as pretty good, but I wondered, "Did they have a conscience?" What a funny thing to ponder.

Then, last night, I wasn't even looking, but I found this quote by Emanuel Swedenborg "Conscience is God's presence in man." That was it. Adam and Eve didn't need a conscience because they were in God's presence.

I can't wait to tell Emme.

Yum

2009-04-16T19:09:00.001-07:00

Yesterday:

Celeste, regarding a foil-wrapped creme-filled chocolate cake confection: Mom, why do they call them Ding Dongs?

Monica, thinking hard about why they call them Ding Dongs and coming up empty: Because they look like hockey pucks.

Today:

Emme, holding a foil-wrapped creme-filled chocolate cake confection: Why do they call them Ding Dongs?

Celeste: I dunno. Because they look like hockey pucks?

My Newborn Baby Brooke

2009-04-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

I think it was a few days after we had brought her home from the hospital. Her fingernails were already growing out so quickly. They were, as all newborn fingernails are, razor sharp.

I pulled out some clippers from one of my baby kits to trim her tiny fingernails. She must have been at the most, one week old. She was relaxed until I hit the quick of one of her fingers. Oh! It must have hurt because she howled so.

Really wanting to get the job done, I tried to finish after she calmed down. She wouldn't let me. She kept pulling her little hand away with more strength than you would believe a newborn would have.

All I had left to trim was her thumbnail. I gently took hold of her little hand. She balled it into a fist. I opened up her fist and then, quick as a wink, she popped her thumb into her mouth.

First Battle of Wits - Brooke versus Mommy:
Brooke 1 - Mommy 0

On What?

2009-04-05T12:00:00.000-07:00

Celeste (waving a paper with pictures and sentences): I'm writing a story.

Daddy: On multiple pages?

Celeste: No. Just bugs.

Time Stand Still for Just a Moment

2009-03-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

Scene: Brooke and I sitting on the floor of Celeste and Emme's bedroom. Brooke is playing with a box of teeny tiny toys while I read a book one foot away from her. Every once in a while, Brooke waves a small object underneath my nose and announces what it is: "cup", "shoe", "umbrella". I acknowledge the doll accessories, look her in the eye, nod, and then go back to my book.

I am pulled out of my book when I hear her baby voice singing. "I love you, I love you, shhhh! I love you!".

I look down and I see her laying a pink velour Barbie blanket over two 1 and one half inch Bratz Babies which are lying on a six inch plastic Dora The Explorer bed.
"Here's your banket" She whispers in her two year-old voice. "Shhhh!"

The dolls are at the footboard side of the bed and are nearly slipping off the end as she draws the blanket over them. I contemplate flipping them around to the headboard side so that they don't risk falling off anymore.

Worried that Brooke will protest, I take my chance and carefully flip the bed over. I turn the dolls around. The Bratz babies are still facing the same direction, but the headboard can now stop them from falling off. Brooke watches me while quietly holding the "banket".

When the babies are safely positioned, heads on pink Dora pillows, Brooke once again places the blanket over them.

"Here's your banket", she coos. Then she makes and proves all my wishes true and sings her lullaby.

"I love you, I love you. Shhhhh! I love you!"

All Tangled Up

2009-03-25T09:28:00.000-07:00

Late one evening, Celeste and I were quietly standing in front of the bathroom mirror. I was combing her wet hair after a bath. As I worked through the tangles, Celeste looked up at me and frowned.

"I wish I didn't have so many nerds." She said to me.

I wondered who she was talking about. Was she dealing with nerds at school? And who? All the kids in her class are pretty cool. Definitely not a nerd in the bunch.

"What nerds, sweetheart?" I asked.

"The nerds in my hair, Mom." She explained to me.

But her hair is clean and I haven't given her any Willy Wonka candy in a long time. I thought picturing the tiny fruity candy.

"Your hair?" I must have sounded like a... well, a Nerd.

"Yes, Mommy. The things in my head that tell me it hurts when you pull my hair."

"Ohhhhhh! Nerves!" I brilliantly figured it out.

"Yes! Nerves!" Celeste nodded.

We both smiled at each other.

Then Celeste frowned.

"Mommy, then what's a Nerd?"

Breakfast is not just for Champions

2009-03-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my buddy Christa gave me a phone call. It went something like this:

Me: Hello?

Christa: Hi! How are you?

Me: Good!

Background: little kid, presumably Colin, talking to his mama about something. I can't tell what.

Christa to Colin: Just go. You're a big boy now. You can go by yourself.

Christa to me: He's potty trained now! But he wants me to help him go poop. I'll call you right back.

Me: Okay. I'll be here!

several minutes later...

Christa: Hi! It's me again! I just threw some Cocoa Puffs in the potty and he went poop on top of them.

Me (not sure I heard right and visualizing little brown cornballs floating in the commode): Did you just say you threw cereal into the toilet?

Christa: Yeah. I got the tip from one of the teachers at pre-school. I called them asking for help. Colin used to have a hard time going Number Two on his own. They told me to throw some Cheerios into the pot. Now he goes in seconds. It's fun for kids I guess. They like to poop on top of cereal!

Me (musing over Christa's wise choice of Cocoa Puffs and thinking that I need to potty train Brooke in a few weeks and not sure if it will work for girls, but definitely planning on giving it a go):
Cool! Thanks for the tip!

Orthopaedics

2009-03-04T21:12:00.000-08:00

While I was cooking dinner this evening, Emme was drawing in her notebook. She would talk to me as she drew, making comments here and there and asking me questions. All was peaceful as Brooke was playing with her puzzles and Celeste was quietly doing her homework.

Once I had dinner simmering on the stove, I took a break and sat next to Emme on the family room sofa.

"Mom, I'm finished with my drawing" she informed me.

Emme has made some pretty fantastic drawings. I was eager to see what she had been so diligently working on.

"They are body parts." said Emme, explaining the different sizes and shapes she had drawn in a seemingly random disorder.

"Look. Here are the toes." She showed me 5 toes placed at the top of the page. To the left were the arms. The middle of the page featured a circle with another smaller, darker circle in the middle. There were some dashes on the top that looked disturbingly like hair.

"What's that?" I winced pointing to the encircled spot with speck marks on top. I was hoping it wasn't a breast or worse.

"Oh. That's an eye" said my Emme. I breathed a sigh of relief.

That's how the page was. There was a nice set of teeth, a pair of thighs. There were upper arms and lower arms, not necessarily next to each other. A few circles represented knees and elbows. There was even a neck. Pretty much every part of the skeletal system (covered in skin) that Emme could think of was there. The entire page was filled.

As I mulled over Emme's curious work, she looked up at me with big hazel eyes.
"I want to be a doctor, but not just a regular doctor." She announced this with alarming lucidity.

"What kind of doctor do you want to be?" I asked.

"The kind that fixes body parts. I want to fix broken body parts Mommy."

"Oh. That's called an Orthopedist. Is that what you want to be when you grow up?"

Emme looked natural, as if she heard that word all the time.

"Yes. That's exactly what I want to be. An Orthopedist."

Celeste had been listening the whole time.

"How about you Celeste?" I asked. "What do you want to be?"

"Oh, I haven't really thought about it yet Mommy. I think I want to stay home until I'm 41 and then find a man."

Cool.

The Look

2009-02-28T07:56:00.000-08:00

I haven't had the luxury of a good haircut in a long time. I usually just go to Fantasic Sams and have them hack off a good 5 or six inches once a year.

I used to have my friend Christa cut my hair before she took time off to have her darling baby boys.

She would give me the best hair styles to frame my face. They were up to date and youthful because she is up to date and youthful.

I enjoyed sitting there in the salon with her chatting about this and that. But there was always a point that I dreaded. She would spritz the final touch of hairspray with a flourish and hand me the mirror. I would stiffen. She would smile at me encouragingly. I would set my face. She would nod. I would relax and look at my hair and she would say:

"There! You just did it!"

"What?" I would be crushed. "Did what?"

"That Look. The same look you always make when I'm done cutting your hair."

"But I tried so hard not to." I would whine.

"It never fails. You always do it." My beautiful blonde and smug friend.

This became a not-so-looked-forward-to tradition between the two of us. Well, I didn't look forward to it. I'm sure Christa did. She would always laugh delightedly when she saw "The Look". As hard as I tried, I never disappointed her.

***

So last night, I'm getting Celeste and Emme ready for a Father Daughter Dance at the local Country Club. They bathe and wash their hair, dress in lovely black and white taffetta dresses, put on their Sharpay perfume. They then announce to eachother that it's time to go the Hairdresser.

That's where I step in. I'm the Hairdresser. I plug in the hot rollers. I set out my tools and I blow Celeste's hair dry. The hot rollers are hot.
"I just want one roller Mom. Right in the front." is Celeste's request.

I indulge her with one roller. I blow dry Emme's hair.

Celeste takes off the roller after a bit. She looks in the mirror. She has one curl cascading down the side of her head. It lies serenely on top of the rest of her silky straight locks. I regard her hairstyle, thinking that I like it, but maybe it could use some tweaking. I plan on tweaking it in a moment.

I'm still drying Emme's hair when I feel someone's eyes on me. Celeste is looking at me long and hard. I look back at her questioningly.

"Mommy. You gave me The Look."

My blood runs cold.

"What Look?" I ask cautiously.

"That look that you always make when you don't like how I combed my hair."

Oh. That Look.

I get it now.

It's not a bad look. All it means is that I like it, but it could use some personal tweaking. It's a look reserved only for hair.

I think Christa would have loved to have been there.

Conversations in the Minnie Van part 3

2009-02-21T14:22:00.001-08:00

I have to write this down before I forget...

One morning, I was driving the girls to school. It was a gorgeous January day, just starting, and the kids' music was playing in the car. The girls were singing and the baby was drinking from her sippy cup.

Halfway there, Brookie dropped her sippy cup on the floor of the Minnie Van. Celeste tried to bend down to get it for her, but her seatbelt stopped her.

"Mom, could you get Brooke's sippy cup for her?" Celeste asked.

"Sure! Wait until I get to a stop sign." I answered.

At the next stop sign, I bent over and reached for the cup. As I handed it to Brooke, I realized I had seen something disturbing. There was no one behind me, so I took another look.

Emme was only wearing one shoe.

I started the van off toward school and said,

"Hey Emme. You're only wearing one shoe."

Emme looked at her feet.

"Oh yeah!" She said. "I guess I forgot to put on the other one."

Thinking back on my days at St. Hilary, I recall that one of my worst nightmares was going to school without shoes on.

"Emme. Are you okay with this? It doesn't bother you to be wearing only one shoe?"

"Yeah, it's okay, Mom." She assures me.

"Well, you're living my worst nightmare!" I say.
(Celeste gasps. I never claimed I was the best mother in the world.) "We need to find some shoes for you in this car so you can go to school with two shoes on!"

I start to think. All of last year, we had about 5 pairs of shoes in the car, but I had recently taken up a habit of cleaning it out nearly every day. There were no shoes except for their dance shoes.

"How about you wear your tap shoes?" I tell Emme. "Yeah, you can wear your tap shoes. Wouldn't that be cool?"

"No way mom. I am not going to be tapping around my classroom in tap shoes all day. I'd rather have one shoe." Emme is stubborn.

Celeste tries to help. "I can wear the tap shoes and Emme can wear my school shoes."

I think about this, but I can't stand the thought of Celeste tapping around the whole school in tap shoes. Emme's right. It's just too wierd.

We get to school and park. I send Celeste off to first grade and decide that I will have to buy a pair of shoes for Emme at Target which is just 5 minutes away from school.

"Mom, you're going to have carry me into my classroom. I don't want to get my sock dirty."

I pick up Emme and turn her in to Mrs. Margo who looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"How did she get past you with one shoe on?" I can see her imagine Emme walking outside to our car, me oblivious to my child's welfare. Then I see the light turn on.
"Oh! you have an attached garage! It would be easy for her to get in the car without you noticing!"

Yep. I smile at One Shoe Emme.

"Okay! I'll be back with some shoes. See you soon!"

"Okay Mama! I love you!"

I love her too. So much.

Emme's Laugh

2009-02-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

Emme has a wonderfully infectious laugh that makes you want to laugh too no matter how unfunny the situation at hand may be.

She throws her head back and, with that gorgeous toothy smile of hers, let's go.

When she's done laughing she, all the while grinning, heaves a bit for a breath and says:

"Good Times. Good Times."

I know for a fact that she got that line from "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" which is her all time favorite movie.

So this tells me she gets the irony.

This kid kills me.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2009-02-14T11:46:00.001-08:00

I'm wondering why the greeting card companies put those little stamp squares (place postage here) on the envelopes for Valentine cards to husbands and wives.

I get that there are people who are overseas and want to send cards to their spouses, but do the overseas greeting card manufacturers (say the Afghani ones) put the little stamp squares on their envelopes?

Not only that, but the ratio of people who give their spouses greeting cards in person is likely greater than than the people who send their cards overseas.

Okay, so not overseas - how about if a person's spouse were in another state? If Bruce were, say in Boston (or for that matter, I'll take him overseas to London where he once was for Valentine's day), I would just wait until he got home to give him his Valentine's day card.

I'm just going to belabor the subject a bit more: Say I'm a military wife and want to send my hubby a Valentine's day card. I wouldn't just send a card. I would send pix of the kids and artwork from them and some homemade cookies and a sweater - lot's of goodies in a big box where I would tuck in the Valentine card right on top. No need for little square once again!

And while I'm at it, why do we need a square anyway? Are we that dumb that we can't figure out where to place a postage stamp? Has email taken over our lives so much that we've forgotten how to write a note and send it via snail mail? If that were the case, then I'd send my Valentine an E-CARD!

Okay - I'm losing it, but here's the thing: that little gray square (place postage here) completely offends my sense of aesthetics. I wish it were gone. I would have liked to have had a nice clear white rectangle on which to write "To Bruce" unmarred by a little grey square in the upper right hand corner.

Yeah, I put a sticker (not a stamp) to cover it up, but it's not the same.

Mitie's Vinca

2009-02-13T10:35:00.000-08:00

Vinca, our platinum Burmese kitten, is the only pedigreed being in this family. But you know, I was thinking, My dad was mexican and my mom's dad was born in Mexico and so was her mom's dad and it goes pretty far back on all sides. Further back than Vinca maybe.

Does that make me pedigreed too?

So what would I be called I wonder?

Moctezuma's Monica Armendariz Sanchez de Miller?

just a thought

My Brownie

2009-02-08T19:33:00.000-08:00

One fine day, this past summer, my friend Dominique asked me if I would like to be a co-leader with her for a Girl Scout Troop. "Sure" I said. I'm always game to take up a new activity that costs money, time and lots of volunteer work.

We had a slow start rounding up interested parties, but boy did we take off as a troop during Girl Scout Cookie season. Cookie sales are not my forte. Selling anything is not my forte. I like to buy. I love to buy. But selling....ugh.

At first, I listed my goal for selling cookies as 5 boxes. "5 boxes!" My friend Monica stared at me in surprise. "Yes. 5 boxes is a fine goal. You know, that's 5 boxes for each girl." (Celeste is a Brownie and Emme is a Daisy.)

"Monica,", says my friend Monica W. "Surely you can sell more than 10 boxes. Everyone loves to buy Girl Scout cookies. They practically sell themselves. I set my goal for 100 boxes."

"Yes, well," I reply. "I like to set my sights low so that I when I pass my goal, I feel good about myself."

Monica, the psychologist by trade, raises her eyebrow at me.

"Fine. I say. 50 boxes."

The next day, I get a call from Dominique. "We've already sold 200 boxes, and we've just begun!" Nice.

Michelle sends me an email. "Wow. I sold 100 boxes at work today. The first day!"

hmmm

Bruce took our order form to work. But guess what? One of his co-workers jumped the gun and took his daughter's form to work the week before the sale even started. (whine). He sold 100 boxes.

"Give me his troop number. I'm reporting him." I growl.
"There is no way I'm going to hunt him down to get the troop number so that you can report him." Bruce laughs at me. bwahahaha rings in my brain.

Celeste, who is listening in, says, "Mom, let me sell the cookies at school."

"Oh boy" I think. All of her classmates are Brownies. One has cornered the market already. She is in for disappointment. Ignoring my protective instinct, I say "Okay, Celeste, I'll put a form in your backpack to take."

She came home with 20 orders.
*
This Sunday afternoon, my Celeste, my shy, darling little daughter tells me, "Mom, let's go sell Girl Scout cookies. Now." I groan inwardly. "But I've already changed my clothes. Go ask Dad."
"No way." Says Bruce.
"Mom, all you have to do is put on some jeans. You'll be fine."

I put on some jeans and off we went.
We spent two hours in our neighborhood. Celeste would walk up to each door and bravely ring the doorbell. "Hello" she would say in her delicate little voice. "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?"

My neighbors were no pushovers.
As I watched with anxiety, I heard:

Neighbor: "How much per box?"
Celeste: "One package for 4 dollars".

Neighbor: "When are you going to deliver them?"
Celeste: "I will be back with your cookies March 1st."

Neighbor: "Do you want me to pay now?"
Celeste: "You can pay now or when I deliver your cookies."

My steel magnolia.
I had not coached her on what to say. I had not pushed her. I was ready to go home after 3 houses, but she didn't want to stop. Steadily she went on, politely offering her cookies, answering questions and admiring pets. I am filled with admiration for her.

This tiny little kid sold 54 boxes today. All on her own with me simply there as her adult escort.

This is what Girl Scouting is all about. Courage, Confidence and Character. I had the privilege of watching it in action right before my very eyes.

I learned a lot today.

Emme who had accompanied us, looked up at me with those huge hazel eyes. "When I'm a Brownie, can I sell Cookies door to door too?"

Knowing it's not so bad, and even something to look forward to next year, I answer,
"Of course my love!"

Not So Much

2009-02-04T21:15:00.001-08:00

So we just get home from the girls' jazz and tap class from which I have been exactly one half hour late for two weeks in a row.

Such a long story, which ends up with me mortified when the teacher announces that they would practice jazz first next week because SOME people can't make it to class on time.

I apologized to the teacher and explained that I had the times mixed up, but I spent the next couple of hours wallowing in humiliation and self flagellation.

We get home and Brooke is screaming for milk, Emme is singing "Vinnie Valentine" at the top of her lungs and Celeste is desperately trying to do her homework in all of the noise and clatter while I try to make some dinner.

As fish sticks bake in the oven, I am trying to load the dishwasher when Brooke, who has abandoned her cup of freshly poured milk, decides to help me. I want to get this done, but she is insistent on helping. It's nice that she wants to help, but she is 21 months old and I am tired and my brain is fried and Emme is SO LOUD with her singing while Celeste is reciting her memory verse from school.

I can't take it anymore. The hackneyed saying "Calgon Take Me Away!" (really, when am I ever going to take a bath with Calgon no less?) is repeating itself over and over in my head. I snatch a cup away from Brooke who has put it in the dishwasher upside down and I yell at Emme to STOP SINGING! please.

It is silent for a blissful moment. Celeste grabs the opportunity to innocently recite her memory verse,
"Love is patient. Love is kind...."

Some Favorites

2008-09-29T20:16:00.000-07:00

When did I start this blog?
I'll have to check, but it was some time over a year ago.

I still haven't figured some things out - especially template wise, but there are some things I have figured out and I think I've come a long way since when I started this blog oh so long ago.

I need to go back and check that first post I ever made. I do know that I was hoping that this could be a photography blog one day. It's come to the point where I have to have someplace to show my work - and this blog is the best place for me so far. I also want to showcase some of the amazing designers that we have modeled for.

Including the faithful people who believed in me, or at least thought I had beautiful children when I was at best a mediocre photographer: Vanessa and Company and Mia Carina Boutique. They have had me photograph their well thought out and exquisitely made children's clothing for nearly a year or more. I wish them continuous success. I believe in them too. Gorgeous, gorgeous clothing that we have the privilege to wear, model and photograph.

So I'll be posting my favorites little by little and new ones as they come along. I'll be sharing links to the boutiques where they come from and maybe I'll share a couple of pictures of photographers whom I admire.

well, at least links to their blogs...

The H Word

2008-09-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

After a long day, I give the girls their snacks and figure that I will give Bruce some corn chowder, salad and a jalapeno bagel for dinner. I lie down and relax with a good book for the first time in a hundred years when I hear a small sound.

I take off my reading glasses and look up to see Emme peering at me.

"I am the 'H' word." Emme announces.

"H? Are you happy?" I ask.

"I am H because huh-huh-hungry begins with H."

The Human Bee

2008-08-19T22:33:00.000-07:00

Celeste, Emme, and Sabrina are playing mermaids in the pool.

"I'm so tired of being a mermaid! I want to be a human bee!" Emme wails.

Uncle Lorenzo's phone

2008-08-17T22:44:00.000-07:00

So Mom tells me that she gets a phone call from the Ontario, CA area code.
"Hello?" she says.

"Hello? Is this Gloria?" a man queries.

"Yes, this is Gloria." answers my mom.

"I have your phone ma'am." the man informs her."I found your number here and speed dialed you from it."

"I'm pretty sure you have my brother's phone. I'll call him and tell him you found it."

Me interrupting the story:

"Mom, how could you call Uncle Lorenzo when that man has his phone?" I am laughing at my silly mom.

Mom: "He has a land line Monica. I called him there. I'm sure. Do you really think I called Lorenzo's cell phone number to tell him his cell phone is lost?"

scenario:

Mom dialing Uncle Lorenzo's cell: "Hello Lorenzo?"

Man with lost phone: "Hello? I'm the one who found his phone. I'm still here!"

I guess Mom had me there.

Brooke's Dishwasher

2008-08-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to put this in as a followup to Brooke's printer, because I don't want to forget...

Brooke loves the dishwasher. Her superhuman hearing is as alert to the sound of an opening dishwasher as it is the the printer printing.

She has figured out to open it whether it is locked or not. Most of the time, she leaves it alone, but when I need to load or unload, she is right there.

She likes to stand on the door and bounce. After I pull of her off the door about 5 times, she moves on to her next favorite task: Pulling out the clean silverware and handing it to me. (I have to load dirty dishes when she's asleep). The silverware drawer is right next to the dishwasher. She hands me the forks, spoons and butter knives one at a time. Each time I say "thank you", and each time she says "thank you" in response.

Lately she has moved on to dishes. She's pretty good at it. Lucky me. She'll even get a dishrag and scrub surfaces for me. I think she's a clean freak.

Brooke's Printer

2008-08-03T23:44:00.000-07:00

Brooke has a special relationship with our printer. It's just an ordinary printer - pretty much a box with some buttons and trays. Brooke loves it. She likes to stand on a chair that I have next to it and try to take it apart. She loves to pull out the 4x6 photo paper and put it back in or strew it about as her fancy has it.

Her most favorite thing to do however, and I what I think she considers is her job, is to pull out pages as they are being freshly printed out. She is mysterious. I will print something and she will appear out of nowhere and stand while my document is printing, patiently waiting for her prize - to rip it out and hand it to me.

She has keen hearing. I know she is upstairs while I am downstairs planning on printing a document. I know she is there, but sure enough, the whir of the printer guarantees that she will materialize without a sound. She is as quiet as a cat. Standing with grim patience she grabs printout after printout handing them to me efficiently without taking her eyes off my hewlett-packard.

She hands the printouts to me without eye contact. While I watch in irritation - I really don't want her to wrinkle my papers, but arguing with a one y/o is pointless - I am at the same time impressed and tickled. She has a method. She listens and knows that more than one page will come out. She gets the page with her right hand and hands it to me with the fierceness of a bullseye slingshot. Page after page. Wait, shoot, wait, shoot. When the printer sounds like it's finished, she disappears back to where she had come from. Job done.

The Blame Game

2008-06-24T21:47:00.000-07:00

Bruce is out of town and I have to put 3 little girls to bed. This is usually Bruce's job, but when he's out of town, naturally it's mine.

I am fried out of my brain at 8:30 pm having hung out with 3 little girls and their compatriots all day. I have no patience, but I tough it out.

I get the girls washed up and teeth brushed and pajamas on. Celeste picks out a book, "The Blame Game" A Berenstain Bears story about kids arguing. Not the best subject for my fried brain, but I read it with gusto and expression.

I am reading, and Emme, who is enchanted by the subject matter, starts repeating over and over, "It's your fault! No it's not! It's your fault! No it's not!"

I keep reading, hoping Emme will stop, but she doesn't. I become irritated and impatient.

"Emme, do YOU want to read the story?" I ask sarcastically. I'm thinking she'll stop and say 'no Mama, you go on and read.'.

"uh...Okay!" Emme says pleasantly. She takes the book from me and begins to read out loud.

Laughing and forgetting any irritations I have ever had in my life, I take the book back and tell her that I'll read after all.

Emme looks up at me with a winning, "Gotcha!" smile.

Sky Pie

2008-05-30T10:16:00.000-07:00

Emme:

"Mommy, today we had a field trip. Mrs. Autumm drove an airplane and took us to see God. He was very handsome and was wearing a tee shirt that said 'I'm up high in the sky'.

Clean Carpets

2008-05-23T22:16:00.000-07:00

I am content today because I had my downstairs carpet cleaned and also my carpeted stairs and landings.

Truck mounted steam cleaning. That's what I like to use. I had a guy - his name is Rafael - come to my home for years to clean my carpets. I used to have him come 4 times a year but it's been over a year since I had my carpets cleaned and I lost his business card. I had to find him.

I had to find him, but I couldn't find him through information or in the phone book. So I looked for steam mounted cleaning and found a different company: Cambridge Carpet Cleaning. The owner called this morning and said he'd be here between 12:30 and 1:30.

Okay - so he called and said he was running late and would be here around 2:00. No problem, I say, just make sure you'll be done by 3:30 so I can pick up my kids from school. No problem he assures me.

At 2:00 one of the Kennedys knocks on my door. "Hi. I'm John." He introduces himself with a Boston accent. He is enchanted with Brooke. He sees my "photo studio" and asks who is the photographer in the house. He tells me his wife is in charge of the Nordstrom Children's Department. The clock is ticking. I hear myself mention that Bruce is going to Ireland in October. I learn that John is pure Irish. We discuss our childhood in catholic schools - Sister Constancia, Sister Marcella, Father Flannagan and Father Killeen. He shows me pictures of his 4 beautiful children and hands me his estimate. It is 2:45.

At 3:00 he starts on my carpets. He does a great job. I pay him at 4:00 and we are both out the door.

As I head toward school to pick up my girls, I muse over my experiences with professional carpet cleaners. I remember the guys who came in with an estimate of $500 dollars.

"NO." I tell them flatly.

The lead guy counters with $500 plus a free scotch guard.

"NO". I repeat showing the estimator the door. He stays put.

"How about $450, no scotch guard?" He asks. By this time I was nervous.

"I don't want my carpets cleaned after all." I say standing firm.

The guy gets on his knees and begs.

"Please lady. Please let us clean your carpets. We'll do it for you for 300 dollars AND scotch guard." He is desperate.

I should have shooed him out of my home, but I am a sucker for a grown man begging on his knees.

"Okay."

They cleaned the carpets and I paid them. I thought they did a decent job until 6 months later. I called Rafael the guy who regularly did my carpets. He walked around my home suspiciously sniffing.

"Did you bring in another cleaner?" He asks me.

"No." I lie.

He raises his eyebrow up at me and calls his guys in to set up. They clean the carpets. As I pay him, Rafael looks me straight in the eye and says,

"I know you had someone else come in and clean these carpets."

"How do you know?" I wonder.

"They used cheap solution and it stuck in the fibers. I had to clean it all up with my steam cleaner. LOOK at the BUBBLES." He shows me a large cannister filled with dirt and gray bubbles. "I ALWAYS know when my customers cheat on me." He frowns and tilts his head.

"I'm sorry." I apologize.

"Never EVER use another carpet cleaner. Is that clear?"

It was clear. From then on, I called Rafael and only Rafael. One day he gave me a refrigerator magnet with his number so I wouldn't lose it. I stuck it on my magnet board. Safe and sound. Until yesterday when I lost it.

It's a long story - another long story. According to Bruce, I HAD to have the dowstairs carpet cleaned today or his plans for rearranging the furniture and rooms this weekend would be foiled. On Thurday Bruce pressured me to get the carpets cleaned Friday afternoon. No ifs ands or buts. Fine. As I spoke to Bruce on the phone, I grabbed Rafael's magnetic business card and haven't seen it since.

I looked all over. Finally I resorted to the phone book and found my chatty Irish friend with the Boston accent and 4 kids.

Rafael is going to be furious.

The Public Hair

2008-05-22T18:06:00.001-07:00

Years ago, when I was 18, I took a trip with my cousin Priscilla - we like to call her Pita - to Europe. We stayed at her aunt's (my 2nd cousin's) home in Weiderstadt, Germany and traveled to various countries with Pita's Nana (my great aunt) as a chaperone.

We usually traveled by bus. Our aunt (2nd cousin) Yolanda would take us to the Rhein Mein air force base where she had signed us up for trips to various countries.

I am thinking of a particular bus trip. Where we were going, I don't remember. It was the bus ride that sticks in my memory. Pita is a very easy going and extremely likeable person. In Spanish, the word is "simpatica". We sat next to each other prepared for the hours long trip to who knows where anymore. We had Evian water bottles, snacks and books. Possibly V.C. Andrews books, but I don't remember. We were at peace with the world and with each other.

As we read our books quietly, I happened to glance down - maybe I was at the bottom of the page. I saw a short curly hair resting on my tee shirt right below my chin. I picked up the hair and absentmindedly examined it. I quickly came to the conclusion that it was a pubic hair. I replaced it and went back to my book.

Pita must have been watching me the whole time.

"Give me that!" she said disgustedly. She snatched the hair from my chest and tossed it away.

We looked at each other with merry eyes - Pita has that kind of sense of humor - my kind. We went back to our books.

Here we are 24 years later. Me, Pita and Pita's Mom Priscilla (my 2nd cousin)That's my mom's arm there on the left with Brooke's little hand there too. I don't know who the guys are in the back.

Sequel to The Moco story

2008-05-20T22:49:00.001-07:00

So I never mentioned that when Brooke first got her little green doll, she turned up her tiny nose at it and tossed it away (when Lynn's mom wasn't looking of course.)

We kept that little mucinex guy in the minnie van for quite a while. We would hand it to Brooke when she was upset or bored but she would toss the hapless fellow away every time.

This led us to believe, naturally, that she didn't care too much for him.

So when Vanessa asked for him (see comments below)I thought "why not?" and gave the Moco to Vanessa as a birthday gift. She was delighted!

As Vanessa laughed and held her new little Moco guy in her hands, Brooke toddled right up to her and grabbed him away with force. She had a frown on her face as if to say, "that's mine!".

Well, Vanessa wasn't ready to give him up, so they had a bit of a tug of war over the Moco. Brooke vs Aunt V.

Aunt V, being bigger and stronger, won.

The Moco

2008-05-07T21:13:00.001-07:00

Not too long ago, I was unloading the girls from the car into their school. It takes a while. Emme likes to take her time. We have homework to remember, seat belts to unbuckle, friends to say hello to.

This particular morning, Emme's classmate Lynn's mom drove up and parked a few spots from us. As I was standing at the open car door waiting for Celeste and Emme to come out, she called out to me.

"Wait! I have something for the baby!" she rummaged through her bag and walked up to the Minnie van.

"Hello Brooke!" she cooed affectionately. She handed my baby something small and green. A little stuffed something with a tee, plaid pants and a small hat.

I thanked her graciously and shepherded the girls into the kindergarten class.

I usually pick Emme up at 1 - right before nap. Then I pick Celeste up at 3:30. All this driving on the 405 has been taking its toll on me and I decided that it was time for Emme start taking naps at school. One of the ways that I was able to convince her to stay was to allow her to take her Care Bear to school.

"How was your nap with your Care Bear?" I asked one day.

"It was great mom. May I take a Care Bear for Lynn to nap with too?"

"Sure." I said. "Just ask Celeste if it's okay and you may let Lynn borrow one."

Next day:

"How was nap today Emme?"

"It was great mom. But Lynn wants you to buy her a new Care Bear. She doesn't want to nap with an old one."

"What?" I am dumbfounded at the nerve of this little kid. "She wants me to buy her a new Care Bear? Tell her to nap with a little moco like the one her mom gave Brooke!"

"What's a moe coe?" Celeste asks her in her gringo accent.

"A moco" Emme says in a perfect Mexican accent "is a booger."

This one's for you, Vanessa:

Early Birds

2008-04-24T14:38:00.000-07:00

Celeste, bless her darling heart woke up early this morning because I asked her to. I needed to get this set out today - Thursday is a good day for listing auctions. Last night I kind of asked her casually, "hey, could you wake up early tomorrow?"
"Sure!" She agreed cheerfully. "Then we can watch the sunset together!" (I think she meant rise).

True to her word, this beautiful child came to my bedroom at 6:30, dressed and ready to change the world. She was wearing a mini-skirt. Quickly, I got out of bed, curled her hair and lassoed soft, sleepy Emme into feeding Brooke some cheerios.

Celeste and I did the shoot lickety split and we had time to spare. Emme was dressed - they had their new pink jelly sketchers on - and we stood looking at eachother. What next?

"Let's go to school early!" I suggested. "Hurray!" they chimed. We climbed into the minnie van and got to school a half hour early. We were one of the first there. The teacher was so surprised and delighted to see us, she gave me a sticker. I'd take a picture of it, but Brooke chewed it up and spit it out. It was a little circle that said:

"Good Job!"

No Rest For the Weary!

2008-04-19T23:13:00.001-07:00

I plan on making my next few sets OOAK. Just so that I can catch up on life and get my home organized and pay more attention to my kids and my hubby - hehe - Good thing I don't have pets!

Among all that, what do I do for fun? Sew! So I sewed up this cute little beach ensemble for a launch that I had been invited to. I'm at the tail end of the launch, but I made it and there it is. I'm calling it "Buckets and Spades". Kind of British sounding, I think. The fabric is by Makower of U.K. Sounds British to me.

Ignore the dirty soles of the shoes. You know, she didn't go very far to get those dirty. She barely walks! I was horrified when I saw the pix, but that's all I got from her. Only 5 good pictures. I had to use the shoes, and cropping didn't work. Hey! It's life. People walk.

"This Song Scares Me"

2008-04-17T22:41:00.001-07:00

I just sent off my last custom order today.

For weeks, I had been sewing every spare moment I could squeeze in among:

a vacation at the beach
a virulent bout with the stomach flu (my whole family)
a stuffy head and fever (me and Brooke)
every day life

After I collapsed in relief with the last stitch, I called Bruce and asked him to pick up Celeste from school and take her to gymnastics. I was drugged up on Sudafed. He heard it in my voice and quickly agreed. Later, he brought home dinner from the yummy taqueria "Carnitas Michoacan". He looked at me affectionately and gave me a hug.

"You're stressed." He said. He had brought my favorite drink: Horchata.

Stress manifests itself in me in destructive ways. It's either my hair - I go bald - or my immune system - I catch every virus that comes through the pike.

It's not the sewing that stresses me out. It's the time management. Or lack of. Emme wanted me to help her with a puzzle today. I couldn't because I had to get this last dress out. It was 3 days late. I had to finish. "That's okay mom." she said. "I'll wait until you're done."

She smiled and finished the puzzle herself.

Coffee in my Junk Drawer

2008-04-10T21:10:00.001-07:00

What happens when you make coffee but forget to put the coffee pot in the coffee maker?

A big mess.

The drawer was closed! I had to pull everything out and dry the inside of the drawer. All of my junk was soaked in coffee. I couldn't believe how many things could fit in there. I need to sort it out. There is no way I'm sticking all this stuff back in.

Cute Kid

2008-04-03T23:05:00.000-07:00

This evening as we were getting ready for bed, Emme pulled out a carpenter's tape measure. I had been using it earlier to measure some things. She must have picked it up from where I had placed it and hidden it in her room.

The industrial strength measuring tool looked huge in her dimpled 4 year old hands. As I stood wondering what she was going to do with it, she placed it at my feet.

"Mama, let me see how old you are." She said pulling and pushing the yellow metal tape out trying to reach my head.

"How old am I?" I asked.

She looked up at the top of the tape as high as she could see.

"Hmmm...two...no, that's not right."

She looked down at the bottom of the tape. She counted.

"Eighteen Mama. You're eighteen o'clock."

Blue Skies

2008-03-31T23:43:00.000-07:00

We had the pleasure of modeling this beautiful tutu set by Evee - ebay id: chic*lil*lovebugs*boutique. I love the soft colors and the way they offset Brooke's dark hair and eyes.

I don't think I gave this picture to Evee because I'm not so happy about how the chair is not perfectly horizontal. What I do like, and why I'm showing it off, is how her two little baby feet are included in the whole picture. There are still a lot of things I need to work on in my photography, but I am pleased with how this series of pictures came out.

Speaking of Telenovelas

2008-03-30T23:46:00.001-07:00

Here is the music video to the one I'm watching right now - Pasion. I was surprised to see that it is sung by Sarah Brightman with Fernando Lima - two of the most beautiful voices in the world...

PASION Sarah Brightman y Fernando Lima

Triple Play

2008-03-30T21:08:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged...by 3 different people all at once!

Here are my taggers:

Amy - http://funkymonkeyb.blogspot.com/
Lesa - http://isabelinspireddesigns.blogspot.com/
Holly - http://peytonsplaceboutique.blogspot.com/

Here are the rules:

1. Link your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Seven random things about me:

1. I love Mexican telenovelas.
2. I can read, write and speak Spanish if forced to.
3. I have a head vase collection.
4. I'm a pretty good cook. At least, I like to think I am.
5. Friends used to call me Snow White - until I had kids!
6. My sign is Gemini - I have a good side and a bad side. Friends and family never know which side they are going to get. The bad side is pretty bad. I'm not proud of it.
7. I wear contact lenses.

Oh man, now I have to find 7 people to tag...
Vanessa
http://vanessaandcompany.blogspot.com/
because I love you
Jen
http://fabricbliss.blogspot.com/
because I love your fabric and your mailing list emails
Beth
http://jusshardesigns.blogspot.com/
because I love your crocheted baby stuff!
Eileen
http://whimsyportraits.blogspot.com/
because I love your photography and your baby is Brooke's age!
Mari
http://marihodge.blogspot.com/
because you haven't been tagged in a while and I love you too
Kathy
http://www.bedknobsnbroomsticks.blogspot.com/
because I found you on the Faeryhill Guest Launch blog thread :-)
Twinkle
http://www.twinklepics.blogspot.com/
because I've recently come across your blog and LOVED it

ay yay yay!
May I never be tagged again!

Road Trip

2008-03-29T19:37:00.000-07:00

This Thursday we took a little Road Trip to San Diego. We are still here in SD - Mission Beach partying it up with the Sprink Break die hards.

I just had to jot down a quick couple of notes before I get back to nursing the keg with Nana and Brooke...

On the way to San Diego, we had some kid car tunes going. One of the girls' favorites is a song about the 50 states. Celeste was happily belting it out until she got to Mississippi. Then she stopped thoughtfully:

"Mama, do they make sippy cups in Mrs.Sippy?"

***

The next day, Friday, we went to Sea World. In the Aquarium, the girls got to see the small sea life such as jelly fish, sea stars, anemones, etc. Bruce took them to the window where the squidlike creatures were. He told them they were called "cuttlefish". To which their response was:

"They don't look very cuddly to me."

The Bathroom (again)

2008-03-21T21:28:00.000-07:00

We keep Brooke's crib in our bedroom. It's nice, because I can hear her breathing at night. Even after having successfully kept 2 other children alive so far, I still worry.

Still, it's pretty inconvenient for obvious and not so obvious reasons. The one I'm talking about right now is using my en suite bathroom. Doesn't that sound nice? "En suite". It's really a tiny closet of a bathroom that is attached to my bedroom. I like it because it has a commode, a sink and a shower. It's small, but everything works and that's all right with me.

What I do in the morning is: 1. roll out of bed - 2. make lunch, dress the girls and drive them to school - 3. come home, make coffee, feed Brooke, drink coffee, skip breakfast - 4. Put Brooke down for a nap.

Notice I skipped the shower. The best time to take a shower is during Brooke's nap. But I can't take one while she is napping because I'll wake her up. Her crib is right next to my en suite water closet.

Therefore, I take my shower in the Rubber Ducky Bathroom. That's Celeste and Emme's bathroom. It's bigger, but it's not my bath, so I haven't taken over it. I take my shower, clean up and leave. It's as if no one was ever there.

Until...
Yesterday, I was getting the girls ready for a bath. I started the water running while they got undressed. When Emme stepped into the bath, her eyes and mouth opened wide. She gasped.

"Mommy!" She exclaimed. "Somebody came into our house while we were gone and took a bath in our tub! The rubber duckies are moved and LOOK! The grownup shampoo bottle is empty!"

Never once did she think it could have been me.

Vanessa & Company

2008-03-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

My creative, talented sister Vanessa has come up with some stunning kids' clothes lately. Some of us know that she has been successful selling aprons, pillows and other home-deccy treasures. Lately, however, she has a added this new category to her repertoire of artistic fabric creations.

Brooke, Emme and Celeste have been recipients of her gifts and love Aunt Vanessa's clothes. Her sturdy little dresses, skirts, shirts and jackets have been through the wash many times after surviving the school sandbox. They still look great and ready for my girls' numerous adventures.

Here are some delicious samples of what she has to offer:

Euro Pop

Alice In Wonderland

Bunny's Last Stand

They are all in a size 4/5 and are ready to ship.
Go take a look!

Sunshine and Hello Kitty

2008-03-01T20:38:00.001-08:00

I made three sets last week. I have had them listed since the 27th. I ended up calling the mermaid set "Atomica: Queen of the Pacific". I thought that was a pretty cool name. Celeste and Emme would totally approve. Funny I have not yet run it by them.

My Hello Kitty set was the first in this particular series. It was my first try at the Euro pattern Cara. The Cara pattern can be a little tricky at first. Especially if you're a cocky seamstress who thinks she knows it all as I am. I tried to skip through some steps without reading the directions carefully and had to back up a couple of times. It came out beautiful. It must have, because Mari took some awesome closeups. To me, that means she liked it. You can find this auction here.

This picture makes me happy. Mari took this closeup for the bows, but I love it so much that I have it in my listing. This beautiful child could sell a potato sack to the most discriminating customer. Loreen of LoreenJane made the perfect bows to match my fabric swatches quick as a wink - She was a joy to collaborate with. You can find her auction here.

Finally, my last dress - my all time favorite design - mine. It's a "Monica" as my friend Dominique would say. I really didn't think this would get any bids, but I made it because I liked the fabric and thought it deserved the royal treatment. Luckily, it even has some watchers too. That tells me I should always go against my grain and not be so conservative anymore. They like it! They really really like it! Believe me, I have thrown some bombs up there that have had nary a watcher, so I am thrilled right now.

Here it is:

Yes, that's my delicate little princess at 7:30 in the morning, freezing her petunias while I, in my ski cap and parka shoot away. She's such a good sport. Well, she did complain once, teeth chattering - "Mommy, can you make something with sleeves next time?"
"Just smile and pose!" I bark.

You've already seen my mermaid set "Atomica: Queen of the Pacific" (nice ring to it, I think). So the last visual treat I have for my blogging friends is this:

This delightful necklace is by Cecelia of Mon Ami Jewelry. She custom matched it to my "You are my Sunshine" dress. You can check out all of her listings including an amazing --I wish I could buy it but everyone would think I was shilling-- necklace called "Precious". OMG I really really like it. Here are Cecelia's listings.

Not sewing this weekend. Off to other creative pursuits such as cooking. I'm having a small playdate at my house with a couple of Celeste's friends and their families. Hopefully Vanessa and Fam will come too. I'm looking forward to it and going all out cooking a feast of bbq ribs and fried chicken with all the fixin's. Can't wait!

Girlz Rock

2008-02-27T22:30:00.001-08:00

Girlz Rule. Well you don't have to tell me twice! Especially since Brooke is my boss. She rules all right. Sigh. But we won't get into that...

haha - I just realized that the set is Girlz Rock. Well, that tells you how I'm feeling lately! Truly, Mama rules. Howz that?

We had the opportunity to photograph and model this darling designer outfit from Cream Puff Couture. The moment I opened up the box, I was delighted. I loved the skull applique with it's bling accents and detailed embroidery. Right up my alley! She can wear it when Emme wears La Tatuada. Sisters to the death. Sigh again.

You can find the auction here.

Retro Mermaids

2008-02-24T22:05:00.000-08:00

I really couldn't think of what to call this set - until just now for the title of this blog post. The Free Spirit fabric reminds me of atomic age design. The mermaids on the knit leggings and, hence, the applique remind me of something I would find in an antique mall. In my mind, the designs are very retro. Even the style of the tunic and leggings - makes me think of the '50's and '60's.

I asked my friend Monica of Maddie's Bowtique to make me some bows to match some samples of fabric that I had brought to her. She made 3 pairs of bows for me. Beautiful, perfectly scaled bows. She made them the way I would have made them if I could make bows.

I love the tiny little mermaids she picked for this set. The ribbons are perfect and she had not even seen the Free Spirit fabric because I didn't know I was going to use it at the time. I'm going to list the complete ensemble on September 27. It's going to be a custom auction because Celeste and I could not part with our Retro Mermaids!

Shameless Bragging

2008-02-21T22:01:00.001-08:00

As if that's not what I do everytime I write in this blog...

Celeste got her school report card - and it was the Kindergarten equivalent of straight A's. What I found most remarkable among many good things is that her teacher commented that she puts Celeste with the kids who need extra help because she is very patient with them. Not only did Mrs. Margo write that in her report card, but she took me aside and told me. She also said that Celeste is not only very pretty and girly, but that she is also very athletic and likes to "go for it!"

*****

So today, we are waiting while Celeste is having her gymnastics class. It is a LONG hour. Emme is bored, so I suggest that we play a clapping game. You may know which one: "I had a little sister, her name is sister Sue. I put her in the bathtub, to see what she would do..." and so on.

At first, we clap slowly so that Emme can get the rhythm of the game. Then suddenly, she gets it! We are clapping quickly to the beat of the song. This is not easy for a 4 year old! I am so impressed.:-)

Then Emme wants to play another game. Okay - so I suggest an obscure one: "I love my love with an "A" because he is Adorable. Emme's turn: I love my love with a "B" because she is a Baby. We take turns going through the alphabet all the way to Z. At first Emme needs some help. When she gets to "F" she has to whisper the alphabet to see what comes next (a,b,c,d,e,F!). She also needs help with some letters like K - Kandy or G - Gump - But she gets it! I am so impressed and praise her so much that she asks to play it over and over until Celeste joins us.

On the way home from gymnastics we play "I love my love" again and again. The girls get so good at it that they come up with lines like: "I love my love with an 'L' because she Likes to Lick Lollipops!"

I love my girls with an "S" because they are So Smart!

Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder

2008-02-15T11:44:00.000-08:00

Preschool through Kindergarten had a big party yesterday for Valentine's day. The theme was Tea Party and the parents were instructed to dress the kids in special outfits.

I dressed Emme up in her "La Tatuada" set with her silver Michael Kors sandals and her hair done up in a ponytail with red heart-tipped ribbon streamers. She added the final touch with a silver tiara adorned with purple gemstones.

She was a show-stopper when we walked into the preschool/preK classroom. The teachers oohed and ahhed at her outfit. The kids ran up to her and touched the sparkling crystal skull and crossbones. Emme stood regally and accepted the admiration graciously.

I stood beaming until Emme's best buddy Leah marched up to Emme and declared, "Well, my dress is more beautiful than yours. Look! It's got princesses!" She pointed to her golden Disney Store dress with the full skirt and sleeveless bodice. In the center of the dress was a lovely Disney Princess cameo.

Emme silently admired Leah's dress until Leah walked away distracted by the Valentine festivities. I worried about Emme because she relates so much to her clothing. It's a struggle or a triumph to pick out her clothes every day. Her mood depends on what she is wearing.

After school, I asked her, "So how was your day?"

Emme: It was great, mom! I had a great day!

Me: How did you feel when Leah told you her dress was more beautiful than yours?

Emme: That was okay because my dress was better. Hers had "armpits" (that's Emme's way of saying sleeveless. She dislikes sleeveless clothing).

Me: Well, I'm happy you felt good in your dress!

Emme: I did. But I told Leah that she hurt my feelings when she said that hers was more beautiful than mine.

Me: You did?

Emme: Yes. Leah told me that she had to say it because I looked so beautiful in my tiara and she didn't have one.

Me: And what did you say?

Emme: I said, "Leah, we are BOTH beautiful." And we hugged each other.

Conversations in the Minnie Van part 2

2008-02-13T22:30:00.000-08:00

Celeste: "So Mommy, did you really work in the city?"

Me: "Yes"

Celeste: "Was it pretty?"

Me: "Yes. It was very pretty. I worked in the financial district. The buildings are beautiful there."

Celeste: "Was it noisy?"

Me: "Yes."

Celeste: "And then you went to Iowa where it's nice and quiet and met Daddy. Right?"

Me: "No."

Celeste: "How did you meet Daddy, then?"

***
I give the girls a quick synopsis of my first blind date with Bruce and how it was set up. I stick in lots of details - things I know they'll enjoy - like what he wore, what I wore... things like that.
***

Me: ...and that's how I met Daddy.

Emme: How did you meet us?

Celeste: (laughing heartily) Emme! Mommy didn't MEET us! She MADE us!

Emme: Ohhhh...Mommy, how did you make us?

Pretty Please

2008-02-11T14:40:00.000-08:00

Pretty please with a cherry on top? That's what I used to say when I was a little kid. I made this adorable set for Brooke's first birthday. It is totally over the top for my usual style - but once I put it on Brooke, I knew I loved it. I think I will be making lots more sets like this for my baby. It's like having a little girl for the first time!

You can see my auction here.

Snow

2008-02-10T22:22:00.000-08:00

Today Bruce decided to take me and the girls on a picnic in the mountains. He wanted the girls to experience snow. It was something they had been yearning for. They were so excited. They got their caps, mittens and rain boots and we all piled into the car for a relatively short trip up the Angeles Crest Highway.

The weather here in Los Angeles has been beautiful. The days are crisp and clear and the grass and trees are green from the recent rains. The drive up to the mountain forest reminded me of the Road To Hana in Maui. We even saw a waterfall. It was lovely.

We stopped at a little picnic area. It seemed everyone had the same idea. Families of all sizes, nationalities, ages had come out into the sunny day to see some snow - such a special thing for us Californians!

The girls were in heaven throwing snowballs at their daddy and climbing up small drifts.

Here are some pictures of them with their first snowballs. Something to be chronicled!

Bruce took this last one. I love it. Contented sisterhood. See the melting snowball in Emme's hand?

When the girls could ignore their appetites no longer, we drove up the highway a bit, turned onto a lookout area and parked. We picnicked tailgate style, feasting on fried chicken, coleslaw and lemonade. The view, needless to say was amazing. But here was my favorite view:

The picnic in the van was Brooke's favorite part of the trip. She felt like part of the gang sitting with us eating pita chips and hummus along with her King's Hawaiian Bread.

It was an unforgettable day!

Camera Tip

2008-02-09T21:09:00.001-08:00

I just checked out this video on the $1.00 camera stabilizer. I can't wait to make one for myself!

Come to think of it, it won't be too helpful with photographing children since I'm always crawling on the ground or on my knees trying to get nice shots of them.

hmmm.... worth a shot anyway!

$1 Image Stabilizer For Any Camera - Lose The Tripod - video powered by Metacafe

Conversations With The Neighbor

2008-02-06T20:58:00.001-08:00

I adore my neighbor. She drives a Jaguar and wears diamonds and hotpants with marabou feathers - I kid you not - to water the lawn. She's not too much older than I am which is the funny part. We get along great and we have kids around the same age. She has all boys and I have all girls. The same ob/gyn delivered our children. We have at least that in common.

So the other day, after a morning of shopping, I breezed out of Bruce's car and found D watering the lawn in a tennis skirt and sporting a new haircolor - red. My heart lifted to see her and I walked on over to chat because I was feeling fine.

Me: "Hi D!"

D: "Hi Monica!. How're the girls?"

Me: "Great. Growing. How're the boys?"

chit chat chit chat....

D: "So I found out why Dr. X (our former ob/gyn) went on leave."

explanation: Right before I became pregnant with Brooke, Dr. X took an unexpected leave of absence from his private practice. He left a very competent friend of his, Dr. Z to take over the practice and that's who delivered my baby.

We, D and I speculated for months on why Dr. X left. Did he take a vacation? Was he stressed? Did his wife threaten to leave him unless he slowed down? The possibilities were limitless. He was so charismatic, so handsome, so young, so successful. Why would he leave a thriving medical practice in Encino? Maybe he retired. But his nameplate is still on the door of his office. We were stumped.

back to the conversation:

Me: "Tell me. Why did he leave his practice?"

D: "He is a compulsive shoplifter."

Me: "Wha? What could he possibly shoplift? Those Armani suits?"

D: "Please, Monica! Where would he stick them? Besides, he told me he went to Italy specifically to buy suits once a year."

Me: "Well, what, then? I can't imagine he needed to shoplift anything."

D: "It's a sickness. They caught him at Barney's in New York shoplifting jewelry. They took away his license. Apparently he's been caught before. I don't know what he's doing right now. Recuperating, I guess."

Me: Feeling bad for sweet Dr. X. Why did they come down so hard on him? Why did they take away his license? What could he shoplift - and I seriously wondered - from a woman who has nothing on and has all her netherparts exposed to him? Ask him to pay a fine and let the guy practice. He is the best doctor around.

"Well, I hope he comes back soon."

D: "Yeah. Me too. I miss him."

Maria

2008-02-03T21:55:00.001-08:00

Maria is the lady who helps me keep my house clean. She's been helping me since I was pregnant with Emme. Maria is a wonderfully business minded woman and very successful, I'm sure. She is my age and certainly does much better at cleaning houses than I do at selling boutique clothing items.

She must know this because the other day she called me on the phone:
"Eh, Mees Monica?"
"Si Maria, que pasa?"

Translated conversation follows:

"Lately you've been paying me eight five dollars. You only need to pay seven five."

She annunciated it like this: ocho cinco and siete cinco - so we would be clear.

I usually pay her seventy five dollars a week, but I had been paying her eighty five dollars since the holidays. Kinda like a pay raise. Or at least so I was thinking.

"Please, you only need to pay me seven five. I want to be clear with you in case you forgot and started paying more by accident."

"Okay Maria." I say slightly embarrassed, but remembering that Bruce had complained that I had given her a raise. "I just paid more because it was the holidays."

"Gracias Mees Monica. And don't forget: It's SEVEN five, not eight five."

"Okay Maria. I won't forget."

God Bless Maria. He is saving a special place in heaven for her. I know it.

Ahhh...Emme...My Emme...

2008-01-29T21:16:00.000-08:00

I made the most darling pair of Tinkerbell pants in the Zuma pattern. The fabric is a gorgeous oxford/pique. There was only one yard left last year when I bought it. I haven't been able to find more since.

This evening, Emme offered to try on some clothes for me - OFFERED. I jumped at the chance. "Okay, I say handing her the Zumas. "Try these on."
"Sure!" Emme is uncharacteristically cooperative. It doesn't last long.
Emme pulls them on and frowns. "Oh no." She says. "I'm taking these off."
"Why?" I whine.
"Because they make me look fat."
That's what she said.
She's a skinny little beanpole.
And what's more - Hello? SHE'S FOUR.
I don't get it.

La Tatuada

2008-01-27T20:03:00.001-08:00

Mom has a very cool neighbor. His name is Rudy, but we secretly call him "El Tatuado." He's the one who decorates his home every year with flair and vigor. Yes. Vigor. He starts with Halloween. He decorates the outside of his home from top to bottom with scary scenery from the huge blowup ghost in his driveway to the 4 inch goblin who beckons brave kids to stop by the porch for treats.

He moves on to Thanksgiving with the biggest inedible turkey you've ever seen. Then it's on to Christmas. This past year, he added Santa on a pulley crossing the California winter wonderland in his sleigh. Rudolph is leading the way, his nose as red as ever. We were even lucky enough to spot Real Santa, stopping by Rudy's home with his huge bag of gifts. Rudy must have an "in" with jolly St. Nick to have had him come before midnight.

You would think it would end with Christmas, but it doesn't. My favorite time of year in Rudyland is next: Valentine's day. That's when he pulls out all the stops and displays a giant beating heart on his front lawn, complete with an arrow piercing through. It all ends with a blast in July. Red, white and blue everywhere. And on the 4th, our nation's patriot stands proudly, protecting his art with a water hose while the surrounding neighbors light illegal fireworks from Tijuana.

We call Rudy (secretly) "El Tatuado" because, well, because he is full of tattoos. He likes to decorate. He must have begun decorating his body with tattoos when he was young and in the military. When he ran out of room, he moved on to other things.

We love friendly, life-of-the-neighborhood Rudy. It is him to whom I dedicate my latest boutique creation: "La Tatuada".

Spring in Venice

2008-01-22T18:09:00.000-08:00

Today was my first official boutique launch with my new design group "VendeMia". We had the opportunity to mingle with some very talented ladies. Click on the Vendemia logo to the right and you will find some of the best children's clothing made in the U.S.

Here is the Princesa set I had mentioned in a previous post:

Brooke, ever the professional modeling diva, just couldn't sit back and let Celeste steal the spotlight.

I'll Take What She Gives Me

2008-01-19T22:28:00.000-08:00

The other day I made this sweet little heart tunic with matching leggings. It was my first try at making leggings and I was surprised at how easy they were to make and at how well they turned out.

Celeste must have been surprised too. When I asked her to model them for me, she agreed quickly without need of a bribe. She gladly started changing into the set. As she pulled on the leggings, she looked up at me sincerely and said,

"Mommy, these clothes are really nice. They look like somebody else made them."

Precious Gem

2007-12-31T13:07:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-26T23:03:00.000-08:00

"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!

2007-12-24T11:46:00.001-08:00

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

2007-12-20T21:23:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-19T10:38:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-16T14:34:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-11T21:48:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-08T16:25:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-04T22:46:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-03T19:14:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-03T16:19:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-12-02T21:34:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-01T21:00:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-30T14:01:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-30T11:29:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-30T11:23:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-16T14:37:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-12T14:01:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-11T09:54:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-11T09:42:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-06T21:06:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-06T20:45:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-01T09:02:00.001-07:00

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

2007-10-31T20:53:00.001-07:00

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

2007-10-29T10:50:00.001-07:00

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

2007-10-28T22:51:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-21T14:32:00.001-07:00

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

2007-10-21T11:15:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-17T19:10:00.000-07:00

Changing Lightbulbs

2007-10-14T17:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-11T09:57:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-27T13:36:00.001-07:00

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

2007-09-23T22:06:00.001-07:00

2007-09-15T21:21:00.001-07:00

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.

2007-09-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-01T23:55:00.000-07:00

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.