Whatever it is.

Tagesplan

2011-06-15T19:26:00.000-07:00

Today Erich and I put together our summer “Tagesplan,” or daily schedule. This is my effort to create structure in our home and feel like I have some sort of handle of what’s going on here. After I had my second son last June, it felt like it took quite a while to feel like I could balance both kids and NOT FEEL CRAZY. Ha! Who am I kidding?! He’ll be one this Friday and I’m still trying to do that! Now I wouldn’t call myself “efficient” or “organized” or “crafty” but I was able to come up with this, and so far it’s worked pretty well.

Artwork done *mostly* by Erich...

In case anyone is wondering what we do all day, here is what it says:

Morning

1: Breakfast

2: Brush teeth, get dressed

3: Run with Jaeger

4: Mathias sleeps, Mama showers, Erich plays on his Leapster (I know an hour is long, but he’ll eventually break out the toys. He’s excited about the idea of Leapster time for now.)

Midday

1: School with Mama*

2: (M/Th) shopping, (Tu) museum, (W) library, (F) playgroup

3: Lunch

4: Mathias sleeps, Mama studies, Erich plays quietly

Afternoon

1: Erich watches a German movie, Mama studies

2: Snack, chores**

3: Swimming

4: Baths

Evening

1: Ride bike, play outside

2: Dinner

3: Mathias goes to bed

4: Erich goes to bed

Half way there! Wooah-ooh! Livin' on a prayer!

*Now that school is out we’re still going to do school time together for an hour during the baby’s nap. I’m using the German sister site of kidssoup.com. You have to pay for access to their print-outs but it’s super cute and creative and GERMAN so it's worth it to me.

** We just started this, after my super sweet husband got me an iPad and Erich decided it was for him. It’s basically an incentive program. He gets a sticker for each chore. Fill up the chart (it takes 4-5 days) and play on the iPad. You’ve never seen a 4 year old more motivated to put away silverware.

We’ve had charts like this for a few months now. Erich loves it, I love it. There is less whining (I wish I had an Easy button to get rid of that entirely) and having a daily plan to refer to makes being home with kids much less suffocating. He loves knowing what is going to happen next and exactly what has to happen before he is allowed to do what HE wants to do. Also, without something for him to refer to it’s hard to get him to go along with my plans. Erich is his father’s son and isn’t about to believe you know what you’re talking about unless you can back it up. Well this here, this is my wingman! Whenever I get a meltdown about going to the store, the Tagesplan is all I need to point to. “See here, buddy, Mondays and Thursdays 11-1, it’s shopping time! It absolutely MUST happen or we’ll never get to that cartoon portion of the day. We’ll be stuck in limbo forever! The universe will implode!!!” The Tagesplan has my back, the Tagesplan does not lie. The Tagesplan will bring peace into my world once again. All hail, the great and holy Tagesplan!

Dads Rock Giveaway Bash: 60-Inch Mitsubishi DLP Home Cinema TV

2010-06-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

Super sweet giveaway on Mrs. Moneysaver! I hope I win! :)

http://www.mrsmoneysaver.com/2010/06/dads-rock-60-inch-mitsubishi-dlp-home-cinema-tv/comment-page-40/#comment-29374

"More Diligent and Concerned in the Home"

2010-04-26T07:48:00.000-07:00

I spoke at church yesterday! This was my talk:

“More Diligent and Concerned in the Home”

Growing up, I never doubted my parents love for each other and their love for me (and each of their other 5 children). I witnessed my father sneaking up behind my mother to kiss her and express his love much more than I ever felt comfortable with during my teenage years. Their PDAs were often and sincere enough to significantly counteract the effects (or perhaps, post traumatic trauma?) of our yearly pilgrimages to Utah in a hot, crowded minivan. Those kisses and more I would say more than made up for the seemingly endless hours of arguing about directions, driving and stinky feet. Now THAT is a lot of love.

Elder Bednar gave a wonderful talk during last fall’s General Conference entitled “More Diligent and Concerned in the Home.” In it, he offers 3 suggestions on how we can build a foundation in our homes that is built on Christ and our love for our families.

The first Suggestion is to express love – and show it.

Simply put, he says we should sincerely and frequently express love to our family members; expressing not only in words, but in our actions as well.

In my home, I’d say we’re pretty good with the “I love yous”. In fact, we have an “I love you” for any occasion. The sweet, heartfelt “thank heavens you’re finally home, I wouldn’t have lasted another second without you” I love you, the “what you said is so funny and adorable I could just eat you up” I love you, the “I’m so sorry you have get up early and go to work while I get to just lay here, but really you’re my hero” I love you and finally, the “I need to get off the phone but I don’t want to be rude so instead of saying that I’ll just suddenly say ‘I love you’” I love you. Saying it is definitely important although pretty darn EASY. Showing it is a lot harder.

In his talk, Elder Bednar stated:

We should remember that saying “I love you” is only a beginning. We need to say it, we need to mean it, and most importantly we need consistently to show it. We need to both express and demonstrate love.

My 3 year old son and I go through a set of rules almost daily on how not to treat people - a list he thoroughly enjoys reciting to me if I so much as raise my voice: No yelling, no hitting, no biting, no pushing. Now, assuming you all have those down, we can discuss how we DO treat others, most especially those we hold most dear. Please forgive me for my love of cheesy Mormon youth/EFY music, but the Michael Mclean song, “Are You Giving the Least to Those Who Matter Most” runs through my mind whenever I approach this topic, and it’s times like this that I really wish I could sing. I don’t even need to look over at my husband to know he’s rolling his eyes right now. Maybe later he’ll give my one of those “you’re such a nerd, but you’re MY nerd” I love yous. Anyway, here is the part I keep humming in my head: “Are you giving the least to those who matter most or are you sharing your best with those who really aren’t that close? Well it’s time to turn around and find out where your greatest joys are found.” I find it easiest to think of things that way – just save your best for the best. Your wife, husband, children, etc. should see the best of you and receive the best you have to give. This includes your patience, your listening ear, your smile, your talents, your faith and your respect.

The second suggestion is to Bear Testimony – and Live It.

I pulled this quote from Elder Bednar’s talk:

The bearing of testimony need not be lengthy or eloquent. And we do not need to wait until the first Sunday of the month to declare our witness of things that are true. Within the walls of our own homes, we can and should bear pure testimony of the divinity and reality of the Father and the Son, of the great plan of happiness, and of the Restoration…. Each of us already knows we should bear testimony to the people we love the most. But what we know is not always reflected in what we do. We may feel unsure, awkward, or even perhaps a bit embarrassed…. As we profess truth rather than admonish, exhort, or simply share interesting experiences, we invite the Holy Ghost to confirm the verity of our words.

I can relate to the embarrassed bit. Openly sharing my testimony is something I find difficult and to be honest, a little awkward. Although I’m pretty sure it’s not as difficult as I’m making it out to be – especially after breaking the ice and getting into the habit. In fact, no one made it seem easier than my own mother. In high school, my mom was the early morning seminary teacher (held at my house, pretty awesome, I know) so I heard her testimony every weekday at the crack of dawn, whether I wanted to hear it or not. I suppose I could try that with my own children, it might even be less intimidating when they’re drowsy… But if I can’t rustle up the Spirit that early, Family/spouse scripture study or Family Home Evening will definitely continue to be the easiest time for me to bear my testimony. Perhaps I’ll work on being more stealth, gradually sneaking my feelings on the plan of happiness into breakfast time as time goes by.

The third suggestion is to Be Consistent.

It’s hard not to recite the rest of his talk here because it’s just so good. Elder Bednar told about his experiences bringing his rambunctious young boys together for family home evening, scripture reading and the like; an effort that often left him and his wife exasperated, feeling as though they weren’t doing any good. They persisted however, and here’s what Elder Bednar believes came of their efforts:

Today if you could ask our adult sons what they remember about family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening, I believe I know how they would answer. They likely would not identify a particular prayer or a specific instance of scripture study or an especially meaningful family home evening lesson as the defining moment in their spiritual development. What they would say they remember is that as a family we were consistent.

Sister Bednar and I thought helping our sons understand the content of a particular lesson or a specific scripture was the ultimate outcome. But such a result does not occur each time we study or pray or learn together. The consistency of our intent and work was perhaps the greatest lesson—a lesson we did not fully appreciate at the time…

Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33). Consistency is a key principle as we lay the foundation of a great work in our individual lives and as we become more diligent and concerned in our own homes.

As I mentioned earlier, in my home growing up there were 6 of us children. The odds were stacked way against my parents, and we often resembled a pack of wolves as opposed to children. We ran around throughout the neighborhood often without shoes, and sometimes without clothes. My parents, bless their hearts, were diligent however -- and my dad was really strong -- and despite being vastly outnumbered, they still managed to reign us in for family dinners, family prayers, and FHEs, all of which were interspersed with complaining, hitting, giggling and mysterious bodily noises. As we got into high school, we might have been a little more reverent, but our varying schedules made it a much harder get everyone together. I know, however, that my parents still tried and that’s what sticks with me. Their efforts were always consistent with their love for us.

Consistency is really the key. None of us is perfect, and we’re certain to fall short at some point. What’s critical is that we keep at it and are consistent in our efforts, otherwise our words will ring hollow. For example, Marc and I have something of a dirty secret: We have a weakness for sugared cereal, especially as a midnight snack. Erich doesn’t know about this secret life we lead, he just knows that he’s not allowed to choose the pretty boxes of Lucky Charms as his cereal in the morning (otherwise he’d refuse to eat anything else). But if I happen to break down during the light of day, and he sees me start to pull the box out, he definitely has an opinion about it. He used to say something like: “Mama, you can only have yellow or blue!” But now he’s started with: “Yummy Mama, can you share?” Children will call you out AND THEN FOLLOW YOUR LEAD if they catch you breaking your own rules or going against your own philosophies. Teenagers will notice too, only instead of following your lead, they’ll likely come up with something on their own – something much more interesting. At least that’s what I remember doing…

The point is, we need to be authentic and sincere with our families. We need to do more than say we love our family in public, we need to tell them and show them we love them in private. We also need to do more than say we have a testimony of the gospel, we need to share it with our family regularly and live in a way that shows we do. If we want our family to grow closer to one another and to Christ, then we must be consistent. As parents, as hard as it may be, it is important to be diligent about ensuring our families come together for scripture reading, family home evening, dinners and time together. But the effort alone is tangible evidence to our children that we really do love them and that our beliefs really are important to us. 1st Timothy 4:12 states “But be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” Love and faith simply aren’t things that can be understood through words alone, they need to be taught through action, so our children learn by receiving love and faith.

Elder Bednar says that:

As we seek the Lord’s help and in His strength, we can gradually reduce the disparity between what we say and what we do, between expressing love and consistently showing it, and between bearing testimony and steadfastly living it. We can become more diligent and concerned at home as we are more faithful in learning, living, and loving the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

I really believe this is true. I think if we consistently share our love and our testimony with our families, we’ll end up with closer, more faithful families. It may not happen immediately, but that’s the fruit these efforts will ultimately bear. But now I’m trapped, see. I’ve publicly expressed that’s what I believe so now I need to follow through behind closed doors! Well I promise I’ll try. None of us is perfect, and our busy lives often get in the way, but the best we can do is keep on trying. Elder Marlin K. Jensen once joked that his family never seemed to get Lehi out of the desert in their family scripture study, but they kept at it nonetheless. Having faith in our own efforts and trudging through even when we feel stuck in the mud is part of the journey, and I know our families will be eternally blessed as a result. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Super Nerdy/Awesome Coupooning

2010-01-12T12:26:00.000-08:00

I know only super nerds post pictures of their coupon deals, so consider me an official super nerd. I just couldn't help it, I got all this today for only $33! In fact, I'm KICKING myself because I could have save $4.50 more if I'd been smarter. But I still saved $95!! Even better, it's stuff I actually NEED. I've been known to buy plenty just because it's a great deal, but I'm trying to be better and use coupons all the time, and oh my gosh are we saving so much bloody money it's ridiculous. Anyway, using coupons is pretty sweet, even though it did consume my whole morning and was organizing them until 2:30am last night...

You might be pregnant if...

2009-12-02T09:07:00.000-08:00

*If kissing your husband after he eats a clementine feels like you're being waterboarded with orange juice.. you might be pregnant.
*If you catch yourself saying this is THE MOST AMAZING (FRENCH FRY/DOUGHNUT/BOWL OF RAMEN) YOU'VE EVER EATEN IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.. you might be pregnant.
*If you've stopped complaining about the dog's/your husband's gas so much because you're not sure if it was you or him.. you might be pregnant.
*If everything you come across seems to smell like urine, socks, maple syrup or grandma's basement.. you might be pregnant.
*If you wake up in the middle of the night inconsolable because you had a dream about wizard nuns stealing you away from your family and it felt SO REAL.. you might be pregnant.
*If you can't sing along to a Taylor Swift song on the radio without sobbing through the refrain.. you might be pregnant.
*If you listen to Taylor Swift songs on the radio.. you might be pregnant.
*If you're secretly bummed it's not swimsuit season so you can show off your new rack.. you might be pregnant.
*If people keep touching your belly, and you cringe at the fact that they're delicately bonding with your extra fat layers and the baby is actually 6 inches lower.. you might be pregnant (but then I guess you already knew that).
*If you prepare exactly what you were craving, eat it, and then want to puke because the smell won't go away.. you might be pregnant.
*If you just got comfortable in the perfect position on the couch/bed/movie theater seat and you suddenly feel like you're about to wet yourself, even after you JUST went.. you might be pregnant.
*If you start eyeing your husband's closet.. you might be pregnant.
*If you tuck your shirt under your bra and unbutton your pants around the house so your belly can "breathe".. you might be pregnant.
*If you sit down ready for an evening of laundry folding and DVR, but then fall asleep thinking about it because even that was too exhausting.. you might be pregnant.
*If your favorite color Runt candy (purple) falls between the seat and you get really, extremely upset that you can't reach it.. you might be pregnant.
*If you've had a jar of peanut butter and a spoon at the ready on your nightstand for more than 3 days in a row.. you might be pregnant.
*If your husband wakes you up from a nap to hand you a DQ chicken strip basket and he doesn't say ANYTHING about you eating the entire thing while laying down in bed with your eyes closed (slightly elevated to avoid heartburn).. you might be pregnant.
*If sleep-eating on your back in bed seems perfectly normal to you.. you might be pregnant.
*If said chicken strip basket was neither a lunch nor dinner, but simply a "mid-meal snack".. you might be pregnant.

And finally, if you make up a list of scenarios of what it's like to be pregnant and every one applies to you... well, you know.

German Preschool

2009-10-05T13:14:00.001-07:00

Late this summer, it appeared Erich wouldn't be admitted to the private German preschool we were looking at, so I took matters into my own hands and started up a cooperative preschool with some other German mothers in our area. Wouldn't you know it, a couple of weeks later, I got a letter from the German school asking if we were still interested. We decided we'd found a better solution and could save a buttload of cash in the process. Seriously, what were we thinking?? All I did was send out an email to some German parent groups that I'm a part of and I got a really good response. We met, all of us for the first time, and discussed details in German as I tried to desperately to understand what the H they were talking about. Let me tell you, I was a rag doll by the time they left my house. But I had made it through the first meeting and they didn't kick me out of the group! Bonus!!

We decided to meet for 2 hours twice a week and rotate houses and responsibilities (snacks, reading/singing time, craft). We have 6 parents - all native Germans with the exception of me - and 7 children. Luckily, the children get along really well, although that could be because there are only 2 boys in the group... and even though my Erich isn't much a fan of sitting, or potty training, or eating, he's doing pretty well. He'll repeat words he hears, he's starting to ask for things more clearly, and socially he's becoming more... um, normal. What I mean is, instead of walking up to another kid and making weird animal noises, more often he'll say hi or tell me they're in his way (hey, to me that's progress!).

Overall, it's working out great - even better than I'd expected. Everyone is involved and commited, and I'm incredibly happy about my idea coming to life. However, it's been three weeks and I'm still feeling insecure about my place - whether I'm not fitting in, or what the other mothers think of me. They are all really nice and creative and easy to be around, and so are their kids, but I just wonder if they think I'm crazy or silly for only speaking to my son in a language neither my husband nor I fully understand. My biggest fear is that they'll eventually call me out as the fraud I am, deciding that my German is too sub-standard, and that my child is too young and disruptive for the group anyway (a result of my poor parenting). I feel like my only recourse is to do my best at developing relationships; however, even this is difficult because I don't understand everything they say. During our first meeting, I could only understand about 1/2 of everything that was said, and now I understand about 3/4 of the conversations, which is at least encouraging. I go home every day and look up words they used, but I still get get hung up, and even though I'm frustrated, the last thing I want is to force everyone to speak English to me. It would defeat the entire purpose of immersing Erich (and me). I also hope I can show them I have a lot to offer when it's my turn to lead. I've been sharing German translations of English songs that they don't know, maybe that will be my niche?

As I said though, I really believe this preschool is a good thing for us. I have faith that I'll grow more comfortable overtime. Erich and I are both improving in the language and it's providing more structure and social opportunities for him. Plus he LOVES going to see his "deutsche Freunde," as he calls them. I'm grateful that we gain so much from the our new friends, I just hope we can offer as much back.

The First Great American Hotdog Launch.

2009-03-23T06:32:00.000-07:00

The First Great American Hotdog Launch was created and hosted by my fabulous friend Erin. Unfortunately, Marc & I were unable to attend this competition of ingenuity and might, and were forced to hold our own tournament.

P.S. - My second throw got 36'. Marc conveniently chose not to record that.

"You really could afford to talk more."

2009-03-17T19:57:00.000-07:00

The same guy that once said to me: "You're really pretty, but it's because of your personality," also once told me: "You know, you really could afford to talk more." I wanted to tell him that he really could afford to talk less. But he was my boyfriend's best friend, and I didn't want to start a fight, even though that boy was the King of back-handed compliments. Nevertheless, that comment has always stayed with me.

To this day, I often wonder if I'm expressing myself enough, or if I really could "afford" to say more. I used to be a shy kid, but I'm pleased to say that the more life I've experienced, the more confident and emboldened I've become. These days when I have something to say in a social or classroom setting, I generally say it. I have even reached a certain level of confidence where, although I'm not clever enough to do this often, I'll say something slightly off - that will, at the very least, make one person in the room smile to themselves while purposely avoiding eye contact. It feels good.

I am very aware that on occasion, things I say aren't always as hilarious to other people as they are in my head. But that awareness, I've decided, is just the price of individuality. I've discovered that it's extremely satisfying to knock my own socks off - everyone else is just a bonus. I also seem to have unconsciously made it a goal to become really good at witty banter. I'm still working on it, but paired up with the core personal belief that I'm actually really quite hilarious, I'm sure I'll go far.

The fact of the matter is, if you think I'm less than mildly entertaining, then it just means you don't know me very well. I am most definitely more than mildly entertaining. In fact, I constantly remind my husband that he is severely missing out by not staying abreast on every word I type on my various stay-at-home-mom social outlets such as Facebook, Google Talk and Twitter (follow me, if you dare: melbohn). When he finally catches up, I do declare he is never disappointed. Neither am I.

Facebook has turned me into a stalker.

2009-03-01T15:07:00.000-08:00

I ditched my blog for Facebook. I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened. The reason being: it's easy. Facebook, for those who are completely clueless, is the lazy man's blog. And it's the most major networking site this side of the World Wide Web. You can post pictures, write on peoples "walls", post links, "poke" people, become a fan of stuff, post ranting notes, and update your status every second. You can do all the same stuff you do with a blog, but have a much larger audience because Facebook alerts all of your buddies on your slightest moves. What's that? Sort of sounds like a subdued form of stalking? That's because it is. On Facebook, you stay connected with your own circle of "friends," i.e., everyone you've met in your life that you don't mind following your every move with bated breath (friends like me). Furthermore, by accepting your friendship, these chums have extended to you the same invitation: Frisk me, baby.

One advantage to staying home with a 2-year-old all day is that I am always within 20 feet of my computer screen. I can hear every alert of a new email or message the moment it comes into my little baby's (laptop's) awareness. Facebook very kindly notifies me every time one of my friends pays attention to me in written form. At which point, I rush to see what was said in my honor. What I am blissfully unaware of, however, is what else they are looking at, reading and thinking. It is best, and safest, to assume EVERYTHING.

This is my confession: Facebook has turned me into a stalker. It's one thing to cruise through friends' blogs, read their posts and leave the occasional comment, but it's another to stay logged in all day and read every news feed that pops up - on the average of every second. And then to read every status update, note, picture comment or wall-to-wall conversation that looks somewhat interesting. This is what is stalker-ish about the whole thing. Do they really know I'm reading their conversations with other people? And scrolling back in time to read their previous statuses and comments? And looking at any picture they've posted or album they've been 'tagged' in? And scanning their friends to see who their friends' friends are?? I assume no one cares, or else they would be more private; besides, they probably do the same things themselves. Also, unlike blog surfing, you can't track on Facebook which IP address has been perusing your profile, but you can take comfort in knowing that your stalkers are only those you've invited into your personal life (although considering some of the randoms I've friended, maybe this isn't such a comfort). Still, does this type of behavior seem odd to anyone else? Does it matter? Are we all on huge ego trips and just flattered by the attention - assuming anyone else would be as well?

Okay, I do have a life. I'm not completely absorbed by the lives of others; I'm just really excited to keep in touch with people. Besides, it makes for great interactive reality web-tv. I often wonder, however, where exactly that line is that separates social networking from obsession. Because I get the impression that it's pretty thin.

Because I'm a Cold, Heartless Beyotch.

2009-02-27T14:06:00.000-08:00

Pay It Forward DO OVER.

Because the first 3 responders to my Pay It Forward post didn't follow the rules and post the same thing on their blogs, they have been disqualified. Come on, guys! Rules are RULES!!

"The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade (or possibly store-bought) gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. There's a small catch though...Post this same thing on your own blog and then come back and leave a comment telling me you're in. Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift!"

And THIS time: Post first, then comment. Ahem.

It's time to make a change.

2009-02-24T10:41:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to change my approach to blogging. I feel I've fallen into a trap of using my blog to entertain others rather than to express myself- which isn't necessarily a bad thing, depending on one's goals for keeping a blog. I've decided my goals, however, need to be more personal. I need a creative outlet, and writing is a good one for me. Writing is also something I'm ok at it; whereas I totally suck at making things (such as blogs and crafts) look good. Therefore, I'm done with posting just for postings sake, and I'm tired of trying to meet my own silly criteria, such as these:

I must be cute, cute, cute. I only feel this way because a majority of my friends' blogs are so stinkin' cute and creative that feel like I have to try to keep up. Cute blog templates. Cute fonts. Cute, chic pictures of attractive family and friends or adorable discoveries. With cute and fun things to say about said beauties. It's all very impressive and admirable, but also a lot of work. Believe me, I've tried. I've come to accept that as much as I'd like to, I just can't do cute.
I have to talk about something fun or exciting. My blog is titled "The Salad Days" after all, an idiomatic expression referring to my enthusiasm for these early years in my life. I feel like I'm supposed to stick to the theme... and entertain... as well as show off a little.
I have to like something. That statement may sound odd, but I feel pressure to be positive. I think about my audience here (the 5 of you know who you are) and wonder: Wouldn't people get bored if I complained all the time? Or if I were really sarcastic or ironic? (I really can be.) But then, what's the point of posting just to post? Do people really care what Amazon's top books are or if Erich bit the shape of a slug into an apple? Who am I trying to impress? And why?

All I really want to do is write about stuff - completely random and whenever I feel like it. Without feeling like I need to impress, or rate myself on the quality or quantity of comments I receive. I sometimes wonder if I should turn the comments off, and if that would relieve any pressure to post, or to impress anyone. Whether it would make writing more enjoyable and personal. I've also thought of creating a strictly anonymous blog, but I've decided that I don't really have anything to hide, and that I'd really like to keep an honest dialogue with my friends.

I'm revamping my blog. Very soon, I will no longer be The Salad Days. I may even delete some old posts that mean nothing to me. We'll see. At any rate, I hope this results in a blog that I'm proud of, a lot of randomness, and some better quality writing.

Keep it real,
Melbo

Pay It Forward

2009-02-18T18:36:00.001-08:00

"The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade (or possibly store-bought) gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. There's a small catch though...Post this same thing on your own blog and then come back and leave a comment telling me you're in. Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift!"

My son the artist.

2008-12-04T19:46:00.000-08:00

I just love the little surprises Erich leaves for me. For example, last year, a week before Valentines Day, he made a little heart shaped poo in his diaper. (Naturally we used the photo for E-valentines to our closest friends.) He's also been known to store his little toy treasures behind the sugar or inside the pots and pans. And today, he left me a slug in his apple.

I love him!

"At Last, a Tween Movie With Teeth"

2008-12-03T09:42:00.000-08:00

It's about time I said something on here about Twilight (loved it).
I enjoyed this equation/"explanation of Twilight" courtesy of this week's Newsweek:

Start with the achingly pretty,
irresistibly sexy Brad Pitt from
the 1994 movie
"Interview With a Vampire."

+

Add Leo DiCaprio and Claire Danes
in Romeo & Juliet," in which the
young paramours know that their star-
crossed love is dangerous.

x

Multiply by "High School Musical,"
not for the singing and dancing
but for its utterly chaste take
on adolescence.

=

And there you have "Twilight,"
the most wholesome,
bloodless vampire story this
side of the Count on
"Sesame Street."

Interview about Bilingualism

2008-11-22T11:48:00.001-08:00

I was recently interviewed by the owner of Alphabet Garten, an online German-language bookstore for children. For anyone interested in our efforts in learning German and teaching teaching it to Erich, you can read the full text of the interview here, at her blog.

Amazon's Top 10 - Because I pretend to care.

2008-11-09T20:40:00.000-08:00

I subscribe to Amazon.com emails because I like to believe that I'm a "reader". Sadly though, I am not. At least not anymore; I definitely was in my pre-parenting days. I do have a couple books I've been working on slowly (i.e. a parenting book I started this summer and a book club book from last May... I haven't been to book club since.) In my view, reading is a luxury I simply can't make time for - except for the Twilight series. I somehow managed to make time for that.

At any rate, I thought I'd share this: Amazon.com's top ten books of 2008. Not only haven't I read any of them, but I haven't even HEARD of any of them. I feel so out of touch right now.

Top 100 Editors' Picks Out of the thousands of new releases that came into our cubicles this year, we've chosen our 100 favorites, from an elegant pop-up alphabet and a deliciously dishy guide to fragance to an enthralling biography of an iconic leader and an encyclopedic history of a sport and the world that plays it. Here's our top 10:

1. The Northern Clemency

2. Hurry Down Sunshine

3. Nixonland

4. The Forever War

5. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

6. The Likeness

7. Serena

8. So Brave, Young, and Handsome

9. The Lazarus Project

10. The Ten-Cent Plague

One Day More

2008-11-03T11:11:00.000-08:00

Even though things didn't turn out so great for Marius and the revolutionaries, I couldn't resist posting this. (Thanks, Annie! :) )

Kenny G. in the making?

2008-10-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

Erich loves his new recorder. Check out his mad skillz!

20 Reasons Why I Suck

2008-10-15T00:53:00.000-07:00

Even though I'm not an Anderson (honestly, I don't know if I'm cool enough, and I certainly don't blog enough to even apply, but I sure do love watching from the sidelines), I've decided to join the revolution. I've made a list of 20 reasons why I suck, and in the process I've decided that I really do suck. Was that the point?

Now I don't feel really great about this, but I'm going to post my list anyway -- all under the assumption that admitting my weaknesses will only make me stronger. So here's to a tougher backbone:

1. I feel like I never come across as sincere even when I am. I just get the idea that the person I'm talking to thinks I'm full of crap. I am sometimes, but definitely not always.
2. I have a terrible attention span as a result of putting too many things on my plate. I can't finish anything quickly because I constantly feel the need to move on to and work on other projects. This is also why none of my million-dollar ideas have come to fruition. (This is also explained by the fact that I haven't put any effort into any of them.)
3. I have a lot of trouble remembering things that I don't write down. Tasks to do, groceries to buy, promises I made, lines from movies, names of movies, if I've ever even seen a particular movie, where I put the keys... And then I often forget what I wanted to write before I get to a piece of paper. I'm amazed some days that Marc trusts me alone with our child.
4. I yell at Jaeger for whining when I know perfectly well that all he needs is a walk. And on the same note, I wanted him because I knew he would force me to exercise every day, and I often resent him for it.
5. I usually don't even try to remember the names of people that I don't think I'll see again. Which makes things a little awkward when I do see them again.
6. I don't wear sunscreen, like, ever, except for the piddly amount in my face lotion. I never burn OR tan, so I don't even think of it. It's just plain stupid of me, really.
7. I'm terrible at keeping in touch with people. If you don't live within a 10 mile radius of me, consider yourself special if I've called you once so far this year.
8. I only have about 5 stations on Pandora and they all play basically the same music, but I still listen to them interchangeably because then I feel like I'm getting something new. I'm perfectly happy with this.
9. I forget to wash Erich's hands before feeding him meals most of the time.
10. I'm one of "those people" that got a Chinese symbol tattoo and didn't know exactly what it meant.* This is only embarrassing every time the conversation turns to tattoos, because you can always count on someone scoffing at "those people".
*Sidebar not intended to demonstrate my suckiness: The tatoo is really small and I got it when I was 18, but the actual meaning ("someone who doesn't fight") is very close to what I originally thought ("peaceful"). I still like it and I'll never get it removed. And rather than wish I'd never gotten one, I only wish I had gotten something else.
11. I don't like like being Poked on Facebook because I think it's a cry for attention, and I feel like I'm obliged to poke back. I don't respond well when I'm forced into playful aggression (like tickling for example, just ask my husband). But, ironically, I haven't removed the application from my page, because I still like knowing that people are thinking of me, even if they'd rather throw an Obama at me than initiate a conversation.
12. I leave clean clothes in laundry baskets throughout the house, and I only put them away when I need the baskets for more laundry. And the cycle goes on and on...
13. I'm an aggressive driver. I cut in and switch lanes at the last second. I'll even run the occasional red light if the coast is clear.
14. I can't stand basketball and complain whenever it's on TV. This makes Marc very sad.
15. I slouch while giving massages and then tell my clients to watch their posture.
16. I'm really picky about my chicken, especially in soups and Chinese food. If it looks remotely fatty or twisted, I'll pick it apart or give it to the dog.
17. I'd estimate that my grill cost $10,ooo, and yet I will still open anything with my teeth. I'm also a lazy flosser.
18. I almost always fall asleep reading something non-fiction - even when I'm not tired.
19. I don't really like listening to classical or jazz music (with the exception of live performances) and I'm afraid that means there is something wrong with my soul.
20. I censored this list. There are at least a dozen things I could've put on here but ultimately decided that they were either too embarrassing to share, or that I don't want to be encouraged to be better. Besides, now you all know about my tattoo and that's more than enough honesty for me.

There, I did it. And I dare you all to do it, too.

Bush!

2008-09-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

Time: During McCain/Obama Presidential Debate.
Setting: In the car on the way home from dinner. Listening to the debate via NPR.
Players: Me (Moderate. Obama supporter.), Hubs (Depends on the setting; in DC: Moderate. In Utah: Hard-core liberal. Obama supporter.), Opa (My pops. Republican. McCain supporter. Listens to Rush Limbaugh "for fun."), and Lil' E (Undecided).

Earlier in the car ride, while passing the White House, Marc successfully trained little E to say "Bush" on command. This brought Opa great delight, and it was so dang cute, even the "liberals" had to smile. Marc wouldn't let this stand though, and tried to rectify his doings before things could get ugly. He was too late.

Marc: Erich, say Bush!
E: Bush!
(cheering and laughter ensue)
Marc: Bush!
E: Bush!!
Opa: Erich, say McCain!
E: Cane!
(cheering and laughter again, and Marc cuts in)
Marc: Erich, say Obama!
E: Bush!
(we look at eachother, laughing with our jaws on the floor)
Marc: Erich, say Obama!
E: BUSH!!

We couldn't help it, we were all roaring. Of course, little E thought he was quite the comedian and laughed right along, repeating his punch line a few times to see if it still worked.

I just love that little man - even if he is a Republican.

Quintessential E & J

2008-09-20T15:42:00.000-07:00

Poor dog.

And yes, E was victorious in his refusal to sleep, so we let him stay up to watch America's Got Talent. Go Nuttin' But Strings!

Fey Nails Palin (on network tv)

2008-09-14T09:09:00.000-07:00

Just in case anyone hasn't seen this SNL clip of Poehler/Fey as Clinton/Palin, I'm posting it here for your amusement. It's absolutely hilarious - Tina Fey nailed it!

And was I the only one convinced that Amy Poehler was pregnant after she covered her belly with a pillow in that "ugly children" sketch (and during her closeups on the Weekend Update)?! (Her face looks smooshed - I wonder if it'll be a girl!). Hubs confirmed my suspicions this morning, and apparently she's 8 months along. She didn't look THAT pregnant, but I defintely think she carried the weight better in Baby Mama. That's some pretty dang good breeding though, and you gotta admit with Poehler and "Gob" Bluth as parents, this kid is going to be pretty rockin'.

Obama Mocking the Bible Ad = Pile of Garbage

2008-08-29T21:52:00.001-07:00

I recently saw a commercial titled "Obama Mocking the Bible" which really rubbed me the wrong way. Go ahead and watch it if you must, but I guarantee you'll be vomiting 10 seconds into it. At any rate, I realize my blog is thus far entirely A-political, and I have decided that, at for least today, it's time for change. Yes we can.

For starters, that video is so full of bile that I think I'm going to throw up. Everything in it is a complete distortion and mischaracterization of the truth. The very first thing I did after watching this piece of garbage (I really can't emphasize that enough) was to read the entire speech online. (Find the video here.)

It turned out to be a pretty great speech, about pluralistic democracy and how by acknowledging and respecting the diversity of religion and interests in our society, we can bridge the political divide along religious lines. I'm very glad I was guided to read it in order to learn the truth behind the appalling accusations listed in the "Sermon on the Mount" ad. His speech (the whole thing, not just 20 cut & pasted seconds) enlightened me with a greater understanding of how to heal that divide and ultimately, a greater respect and appreciation for Barack Obama and his spirituality. So, I'm grateful I was exposed to this piece of trashy sensationalism. It significantly helped to solidify my vote.

By the way, the organization that produced that video claimed on their website that they are "hoping to become the 'Swiftboat' 527 organization of 2008". Purely aspiration: nothing at all on their site about what's good for the country, just efforts to take down the other team no matter how unethical or dishonest the attempts become. I find it incredibly ironic (and quite horrifying) that the driving force behind this ad is the very religious/political divide that Obama's speech was trying to heal. And it's so full of lies! (Certainly makes you wonder if they've been reading THEIR bibles, now, eh?)

If you haven't already, I urge you all to go to the source and decide for yourselves. At least then you'll know the truth and not what someone else is telling you to believe. This commercial will be aired after the Democratic National Convention, and I really hope people don't fall for this crap.

My Little Mowgli and Baloo

2008-08-04T07:39:00.000-07:00

I couldn't have planned something this cute: little E, stripped down to a diaper after lunch, watching The Junglebook (Das Dschungelbuch) for the first time, cuddling with his own big 'ole dumb bear.

Cloth Diapering 101

2008-07-31T07:41:00.001-07:00

For those interested in learning more about cloth diapering, this is a really great blog. (Scroll down past the nursing stuff and you'll see it, I promise.) The author is what I would call "normal" and really knows her stuff. She certainly taught me a lot - and made me wish I'd seen this a year ago. It's really nice to learn from someone else's trial & error rather than your own (really messy) T & E.

Erich Speak

2008-07-26T08:15:00.000-07:00

(I should probably just go ahead and rename this blog to "The Erich Days" since that's all I write about lately...)

To track Erich's progress in learning German (and hopefully to translate at least a little bit of his gibberish for everyone else), I've documented all of his current vocabulary. As you can see a few English words have slipped in there - 'no' being his favorite. I only wish I could include some recording of him saying these words, but this kid simply refuses to be a trained monkey. So I just wrote the phonetically spelled version of how Erich says the word, then the correct German word and the English translation in parenthesis.

Mama
Papa
Opa (Grandpa)
Oma (Grandma)
Mimi (other grandma)
Nummy: Yummy
Eye: Eier (eggs)
NEIN!
NO!
Uh-oh
Mehr (more)
Buh-bye
Oosh: Tschuss (bye)
Ball (same in German)
Baby (same)
Koo: Kuh (cow)
Eckie: Eklig (yucky)
Po (bum - he says this and "eklig" when he poos)
Weevee: Revie (his friend)
Zah: Saft (juice) or Wasser (water)... He doesn't seem to distinguish between the two but that could be because cup is "Tasse" and he's just saying that.
Ahssee: Kashi (as in Kashi's Heart to Heart cereal, his favorite)
Ooo-cow-bah: Hubschrauber (Helicopter - TONS fly over our house)
Duh-kah: Danke (Thank you)
Entee: Ente (duck)
Ah-pee: Affe (monkey)
Nana: Banana (banana)
Bah-dee: Bade (Bath)
Shauw - Schau (look)
Yay-gah: Jaeger (our dog, not the drink. Also his first word.)
doo, dee, die: (combo of one, two, three & eins, zwei, drei)
Auf (up)
Aus (out)
Auto (car)
Kop: Klopf (knocking on a door)
Ahn-dee: Handy (cell phone)
Bibi (his Aunt Rebecca)
Zee: Ziehen (pull)
Shoo: Schuh (shoe)
Bauw: Bauch (Tummy) or Baum (tree) -- Depending on what he's pointing at...
Neh-mo: Nemo (yes, THAT Nemo. And this is to describe every fish of every color and size, by the way.)

Just yesterday, he said: Pipi (yes, as in 'peepee'), Tiger and Erdbeere (strawberry). We'll see if they stick!

And finally, he makes these noises with the corresponding animals:
Dog: Arf
Cat: Meow
Cow: Moo
Rooster: Ar-OO-oo-ar-Aroo
Chick: Peep, peep
Pig: back of the nose snort
Bear, Tiger, Lion, Crocodile, Giraffe, Bunny, Frog: Grrrrrroaawwrrr!
(We're still trying to teach him that the last few don't actually roar. He prefers things his way.)

I was so surprised while putting this together how many words he actually says! I've been telling everyone he says a dozen but apparently I've been a stinking liar. I'm thinking now I should print out copies and pass them out to all his friends, neighbors and nursery teachers. By memorizing this list, you could probably have an entire conversation with Erich and he'd be your best friend forever.

The pressures on, though.. I'm going to have to up my studying - this kid is catching up to me quicker than I thought.

Binkie Boot Camp

2008-07-23T15:23:00.000-07:00

Much to my chagrin, today marks the beginning of the end of binky use in our house. No binkies will ever be allowed in Erich's mouth again. My once beloved and trusted soother and scream stopper has slowly been doing it's dirty work on my son. I felt so betrayed by my little assistants when the pediatrician told me today that they have given E a pretty significant overbite. Ah!! Stupid me - of all people, as someone who wore braces for 3 years to repair the damage of my own finger-sucking, I should have known better. But he is so young and it's something that I never really considered, especially since he really only uses them at night (and occasionally as the previously mentioned screecher plug).

So that's it: I say they're OUT! Wish me luck, though, because this could be a looong couple of nights. And because I'm going to try to (gently) nudge Erich's teeth back every chance I get. (He'll thank me in 12 years when he doesn't have to wear head gear to school and be teased by his siblings.)

Erich's New Trick

2008-07-15T19:35:00.000-07:00

Sorry everyone for being away the past few weeks. Every once and a while I have to go anti-internet and focus my energies elsewhere. Just something that keeps me sane.

Hoping you'll forgive me, here is one of the latest things my adorably awesome kid has been doing. Regularly, I might add. I seriously doubt anyone else's child does this and I couldn't be more proud.

Another "Parent of the Year" Moment

2008-06-23T08:12:00.001-07:00

Have you ever thought to yourself:

1) This is not how I want my child to act in public, and

2) Maybe he's getting mixed messages when I tell him to stop from behind the camera?

For me, this was one of those moments.

Lies, Lies, Lies

2008-06-08T20:53:00.000-07:00

If you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that I have been stalking you for the past 6 months. In January, I began shaping my thoughts: what to say and how to say it. In February, I sent you the first email. The first of many, many, many emails. I begged and pleaded with you to send me something, anything, about my husband's younger days. I compiled all of these entries and created a 100 page book and an hour long video; my goal: sum up Marc's 30 years on this planet. And, if you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that this is no light task.

I believe I emailed about 500 people. I never officially counted, however the list of email addresses filled 6 pages in Word... so I estimated. To compile these memories, I emailed everyone in Marc's inbox - it was the ultimate in Bohnspam (I did learn from the master, after all). It was quite an adventure: the secret email account, the phone calls, and having to obsessively cover my tracks. After quite a bit of nagging, I received a tremendous response and found myself swimming in memories. Actually, drowning is more like it. I was in over my head.

For the past 5 weeks, I have devoted every spare (and not so spare) second to this project. To say the least, my domestic, wifely, and motherly responsibilities have suffered greatly. My dog has gained weight, my husband has been forced to wear dirty underwear more than once, and I fear my son's attention span has been shortened from all the cartoons I let him watch (even if they were in German). And on top of all this: a thick, woolly blanket of Lies, Lies, Lies. ("Oh, we didn't do much today, hun.. we just went to playgroup and hung out for a couple hours." or "I had to babysit the neighbor's kid all day - it was crazy!" or "I had the worst cramps, I couldn't do anything but sit on my butt.")

I actually have one of those uncommon husbands that asks how my day went, so my defense is that he pressured me into it. However, I knew that if I just picked one or two events to discuss in the evening, I wouldn't be asked to detail the entire day. I soon started making quick jaunts to CVS seem like they took hours. Little did Marc know that I never kicked my rear in gear until I saw him sign out of Google Talk - then I knew I had half an hour to clean, start dinner and move things around (laundry/papers) as though I had actually been productive. Oh, and then make up stories about my daily activities.

I was a bit of a basket case, people. My insides (psychologically and physically) were knotted up for weeks, but the hardest part was concealing all of my stress from Marc. I was smiling my way through hypertension and hair loss. It was worth it, though, and as I wrote in the forward to his book:

"Now that my mission is accomplished, I'm entirely resolved on two things:

1) I could never be a double agent. Leading a double life is absolutely miserable, and
2) I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world. . ."

The project turned out amazing, and each story and picture I surfed through gave me a deeper understanding of Marc and the experiences that shaped him. And when I finally presented the masterpiece, he was blown away. He loved it, and I was even able to throw him a little surprise party/movie screening (even though I got lazy in the end and he sensed something was up). He was also pretty surprised that I was able to find the doll he had as a boy that his parents threw away, "Penny" - a 40-year old antique that I've already had to give stitches to twice. (She's still wet in the picture from her 10 hour Oxy Clean bath.)

SUCCESS! All my hard work paid off, as well as the mountains of help from countless others. (Especially of note are Marc's parents and my wonderful friend, Maryanne, who sacrificed two weeks of her life to work on my video!) Thank you everyone, and I promise not to stalk you again for at least another 30 years!

Happy Birthday, Marc, you old man! Ich liebe dich!!

And that's the story of why my blog has sucked lately. As a special treat, here are some pictures of Erich at his Papa's party. We stripped off his chocolate cake smeared shirt and he decided to wear this ribbon all day instead (of his own volition). This makes me think I shouldn't watch so much Bravo around him (you know, the channel that women love because it's focus group is gay men)...

VOTE!!

2008-05-22T21:05:00.000-07:00

... for my new diaper bag!

I really like these Reese Li bags, but my husband is NO help. (He hates them both.) Help me!

Bloody Sippy Cups!

2008-05-20T07:02:00.000-07:00

And I don't mean bloody in the I-scraped-my-knee way, I mean bloody in the I'm-censoring-my-blog-slightly-from-what-I-really-want-to-title-it way.

I actually made it to Erich's music class this morning! Unfortunately, we didn't make through in the door. For the record, I've decided that this class was a total waste of money. We only made it to half the classes and when we did, all Erich wanted to do was play with the weights while I sang The Wheels on the Bus to whatever other kid was next to me. The only entertaining (and equally annoying) part was this mom that kept talking in a loud baby voice to her son - and following each comment with a guttural "Nanny" laugh. And I've never seen so many "stay at home moms" wear business attire on a regular basis. It was just weird I tell ya.

Anyway, when I pulled Erich out of the car I felt that his butt was soaking wet. I saw the sippy cup next to him, realized what happened, and decided to go in anyway. By the time we got to the building my arm was also drenched, so I put him down and evaluated the damage. The kid looked like I hadn't changed his diaper in days (or a cloth diaper in 6 hours, but that's another post). The entire butt and sides of his light blue jeans were deep blue, so I decided to go back home - fuming at those cursed sippy cups.

I'm curious to hear what others would have done. Would you go home or stick it out? I feel totally comfortable stripping Erich to his diaper or just telling everyone "don't worry, it's only juice!" in playgroup (and indeed I have), but these weren't pals of mine. And no, the Rec Center doesn't sell clothes; I checked before throwing in the towel.

And another question: does anyone know of a sippy cup that does NOT leak? I probably have about 10, and of those, Erich will only drink out of 5. They are all straw cups and they ALL leak. It drives us crazy. Marc even threw one away in a fit of rage last weekend after it soaked his pants. He felt guilty after I told him it was Erich's favorite cup, so he fished it out of the trash and we gave it a good washing when we got home. But how pathetic are we that we keep these cups that bring us so much misery just because Erich refuses to drink from anything else? I keep thinking I'd like to all of the cups with some that don't leak, and make Erich deal with it, but... do they exist? I'm doubtful.

Best Mother's Day EVER

2008-05-13T18:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I know it's only my second one, but this Mothers Day weekend was pretty freakin' great. It almost made up for my husband ditching me the last several months. Well, okay, I suppose it did.

Thank you Hubs for the night at the Ritz, the fabulous restaurant, the couples massages, the 11-hour slumber, the crepe breakfast, and the amazing ("Mothers Day, birthday & a little bit of Christmas") gift!! I was so spoiled and it was sooo awesome! In return I believe I didn't complain once about our bratwurst dinner and having to spend the entire afternoon watching the Jazz game. Shoot, I didn't even think about it!

You've set the bar high, babe. I don't know how I'm going to top this next month...

English Nursery Rhymes in German

2008-05-11T17:20:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if any of my readers will be interested in this besides me, but after an exhaustive search I was finally able to find German translations of some of my favorite English nursery rhymes. Up until now I've been singing my own rough and pathetic versions to Erich. (Reason #27 that I may have already screwed up my kid before his second year.) Boy am I excited to actually be saying them correctly! You may notice though, that most of these aren't literal translations. This isn't uncommon. I suppose the charm of lines like "the old man is snoring" must get lost in translation. How unfortunate.

For anyone interested, I found the translations here. The site also translates nursery rhymes into a bounty of other languages, so it's a definite keeper for any multi-lingual families. And while we're on the topic, this is also a fabulous site. Pick your language, and pull up pictures. As you scroll over the picture, you see and hear the word. Erich loves this and we do it almost every day!

Bruder Jakob (Are you sleeping?)

Bruder Jakob, Bruder Jakob,
schläfts du noch, schläftst du noch?
Hörst du nicht die Glocken, hörst du nicht die Glocken,
Ding Ding Dong, Ding Ding Dong

Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern (Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)

Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern,
was du bist, das wüßt ich gern.
Stehst hoch über aller Welt,
ein Diamand am Himmelszelt.
Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern,
was du bist das wüßt ich gern.

Tickedi tickedi tack (Hickory Dickory Dock)

Tickedi tickedi tack,
die Maus läuft die Uhr auf und ab.
Die Uhr schlät eins,
die Maus rennt heim!
Tickedi tickedi tack

Es regent, es regnet (It’s Raining, It’s Pouring)

Es regnet, es regnet,
es regnet seinen Lauf.
Und wenn's genug geregnet hat,
dann hört's auch wieder auf.

Ringel, ringel, Rosen (Ring-around the Rosie)

Ringel, ringel, Rosen
Schöne Aprikosen
Weiß und blau
Vergiß mein nicht,
Alle Kinder setzen sich.

Das ist der Daumen (This Little Piggy Went To Market)

Das ist der Daumen,
der schüttelt die Pflaumen,
der hebt sie auf,
der trägt sie nach Haus,
und dieser kleine Lümmel ißt sie alle auf!

Die kribbel-krabbel Spinne (The Itsy Bitsy Spider)

Die kribbel-krabbel Spinne kriecht in Wasserrohr,
dann kommt der Regen und spült sie wieder vor,
dann kommt die Sonne und trocknet das Wasser ein
und die kribbel-krabbel Spinne kriecht wieder ins Rohr hinein.

A,B,C,

A, B.... Y, Z, oh weh, jetzt kann ich das ganze ABC!

Flashback

2008-05-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

It took us two years to finally realize we could (and should) store stuff in our attic. Now, whenever I can get my rear in gear, I'll pack up a couple tubs of junk and leave them on the landing for Marc to throw up there. (I've never actually been up there myself-small, dark, musty spaces weird me out.)

My latest project has been organizing the closets in Erich's room, better referred to as the old attic. After packing numerous tubs of baby clothes, I reached two forgotten boxes on the top shelf with my name on them. My theory is that they got there when my mom drove down from Wisconsin after Erich was born. I don't remember seeing them or putting them up there, but then again I was on a lot of Percoset back then...

I realized these were memorabilia boxes encompassing my middle through high school years. Sweet!! Naturally, I took a break from organizing and indulged in this unexpected treat. Right away though, I found something a little, um, "sweeter" than I'd expected. Tucked under the lid of the first box was a bottle of Royale Deluxe Chambord Liqueur! The bottle was pretty dusty and sure, I had some wild times in my youth, but I certainly didn't remember this keepsake! You had better believe I have my suspicions, though. (Um, did you forget about something, little brother?? We'll chat later!)

This was truly a blast from the past, complete with diaries, pictures, cards, yearbooks, awards, trophies, art projects and bulging bag of notes folded into every geometrical shape possible. I got quite the kick out of it all. I had love notes in there from a guy I refused to date until I was 16, and journal entries about how much I "loved" the guy I secretly dated when I was 15. I know, I was quite the heartbreaker. I even got emotional when I found a printed copy of a virtual "Happy Hanukkah" bouquet my best friend Dave sent me saying "Did I make you smile? If so you should put this on your list of things that make you smile." Apparently I was making a list.. I wonder what happened to that?

I made a crazy chair in art class my senior year that was symbolic of the dueling good/bad angel on each shoulder. My good/bad angels were represented by Oscar the Grouch in a black can and Elmo in a flower pot (I had something of an obsession with Elmo for about a year); they were attached to each "shoulder" of the chair and each half of the chair was painted and "decorated" to match (interpretation: glued on flowers and garbage). A lot of people didn't "get" my art, but I was really proud of it so I saved the Oscar and Elmo. Erich had a blast playing with them.

Then there was the journal entry I wrote about how my friend and I stole our teacher's AOL password (because my parents wouldn't give me theirs) and chatted with a bunch of guys, and one kept emailing us. I was convinced that we'd get busted because the emails took a few days to delete; now was that true or was I on crack?

There was so much more, but I decided to pack things up and postpone the rest of the flashback a little longer. At least it was nice to reconnect with the old me and see how I've grown. I'm proud of myself. I did a great job of documenting the shy, skinny, four-eyed, headgear wearing brace-face I was and the myriad of emotions that came with finding myself, making choices, and puberty in general. And although I still cringe when I remember it all, there are a ton of valuable resources in that box to help me deal with my own daughters' (because we'll have at least one if not more, Marc!) awkward adolescent stages. I'm hoping that by then I'll be able to completely shake off any embarrassment about who I was and just laugh about it. Because I think I turned out pretty good.

Erich Nesting

2008-05-03T18:37:00.000-07:00

Apparently E was very dissatisfied with the way I organized the pantry. I'm not complaining, though. This kept him busy for about half an hour.

And after all that work, this is how he finally decided it should look:

Chocolate Love

2008-04-30T09:27:00.001-07:00

My friend Nancy let me review some of her yummy chocolate. Mmm-mm! I could get used to this.

Andrea Bocelli Sings Elmo to Sleep

2008-04-30T09:06:00.000-07:00

Erich has had a thing for Andrea Bocelli ever since we stayed at the Ritz-Carlton in Las Vegas this past Christmas. Andrea had performed a rare concert on Lake Las Vegas last summer, and the footage played constantly on one of the hotel's cable channels. And by nothing short of genius hospitality, the maids left it playing upon leaving the room. It was a delicious treat to walk into our clean room every evening, be greated by that flawless tenor, and see the breathtaking views of the desert sun setting behind him. I'm telling you, this thing was enchanting. Erich was completely entranced from the moment we walked in the room. By the time we checked out, we probably sat through that entire concert 10 times and I still wanted more. Even now when I play Bocelli on my iPod, Erich becomes completely still and stares blissfully off into the distance.

Now imagine our delight as I'm channel surfing today (yes, we watch TV on sick days, so sue me) and suddenly Elmo appears on the screen. Erich adores Elmo. He hasn't had much exposure to the little fur ball, but I can confidently say that it was love at first sight. So I pause a moment, and wait! Who is that with him? Andrea Bocelli!! There he was singing our little buddy a bedtime version of Con Te Partiro. We both thought this song was so fabulous that I found the video on YouTube and E & I watched it several times over.

My Favorite Piece of Furniture

2008-04-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

Erich's sweet little cousins (and Aunt Nicole!) just sent him this amazing PB Kids chair, and I have to say: it is AWESOME! It looks so cozy and stylish, and he absolutely loves having his own little space to chill and read his books. (Even though he becomes a deer in the headlights every time I lift the camera.) Did I mention I love it? I love it! Thank you, girls!!

Home Improvement and My Mom

2008-04-28T00:20:00.000-07:00

I always love it when my mom comes to visit from Wisconsin. We get to hang out, play with Erich, go shopping, she washes my dishes.. and Marc's favorite: she fixes up our house. I'm telling you, this woman is a machine, a do-it-herself-er through and through. Unfortunately, I don't share her adeptness or desire for home repairs, but I swear I'm the best bucket and flashlight holder this side of the Mississippi! When she came out here a few weeks ago, our #1 project was the garden. It took a couple of years, but I think I've finally learned the difference between annuals and perennials. Here's finished product (I know, I'm terrible about putting the hose back!):

We then took a well deserved break to see the cherry blossoms in DC.

Then she and my dad spent a few hours digging a nail clippers out of the garbage disposal (I still call it wasn't my fault). Notice me holding the flashlight and covering my face like a pro.

Then we tore it up. The yard, that is. Because apparently dog urine kills grass. Actually, this is something we knew quite well, but laziness won us over far too often, resulting in a plot of dirt and dead, yellow crud. Marc & I finally got fed up with being the white trash of the neighborhood, so Maw & I removed all of the acidic garbage and gave the remaining dirt a good toiling.

But the sod came in a few days late, and my teacher had to go home, leaving me to finish the job.. alone*. And guess what: I DID IT! I bought and laid down the sod all by myself**. And if that isn't wild enough, I MOWED IT last week. I suppose I might have a little of my mama in me afterall.

* If you're asking why I had to do this alone, then you've never been married to a lawyer.
** Our neighbors leave a bunch of random stuff(i.e. a birdhouse, tiles, shoes..) on their front porch at all times. Please don't take that as a reflection on us.

Movie Review : I Am Legend

2008-04-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

One word: "Blaherreguregrulah."
Translation: Creepy-nasty-grizzly-intense- yucky-yuck-yuck. Yuck.

This movie drove me out of my gourd. I'm still trying to exorcise the worms out from under my skin and the queasy knot in my gut. I've never been a fan of scary movies, and this one just barely crossed over my tolerance threshold. (I never said I was good at separating fantasy from reality.) I was literally jumping on the couch with a pillow over my face during the dog scene, and wedged into a corner during the rest of it. And in a very rare occurrence, I, the terrible woman who hates basketball, actually made Marc switch to the Jazz game about 10 times so I could relax. When it was all over, I went upstairs to cuddle with my sweet little sleeper and to feel peace again. (And to make sure he was safe!)

I'm not looking forward to my dreams tonight. And tomorrow night, I just may pack a switchblade when I take Jaeger to the bathroom.

The Most Depressing Post Ever

2008-04-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else ever feel like we're living a story that is coming to it's end? I couldn't help but feel that way today as I was listening to a radio program about China's growing population and consumption of oil. The host was interviewing a scientist who believed that in 10-20 years the world would be scrambling for oil and it would cause all kinds of chaos. Frankly, I think he's right. But it's not only China that worries me, it's the culmination of everything in the media lately. It seems that all we hear about is the poor environment, global warming, melting ice, oil, wars, poverty, disease, etc. We're approaching the climax.

I think I've come to the sad realization that we can't save the Earth. We humans will never reverse our impact on the environment. We're not organized, united, or strong enough. Inevitably, our planet will capsize in our filth, and the best anyone can do is to slow things down. I only hope that we can put it off as long as possible.

So on this, our glorious Earth Day, I have to roll my eyes at the naive phrase "Save the Planet". Instead, I came up with a new motto:

Go ahead now, cry your eyes out. It'll probably make the polar ice caps melt that much faster.

i heart poop.

2008-04-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

If you know me at all, you probably know that I have something of a poop obsession. So you understand why I have to share this post with you from my sister's blog. I've also decided that poop is funniest when it doesn't happen to you. I'm still rolling on the floor on this one!! (My sympathies are with you, C.)

p.s. - "Poopsucka" is an endearing term we call each other, created by my nephew (to the great delight of his aunts and mother) when he was learning his first words. The child is a comedic genius!

No, I'm NOT pregnant. Just hormonal.

2008-04-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

A little while ago, I registered Erich for a weekly music class at the community REC center. I missed a chunk of the first class (although SO not my fault. It was all on Marc). Then last week, my mom was visiting and I just plain forgot. Finally, this morning, I arrived right on time for a class that I thought started at 10. We walked in to every one happily packing up their bags and strollers. I then remembered the class began at 9, and playgroup started at 10, and I - completely disgusted with myself - flipped a 180 out the door and prayed that no body saw us.

I felt like such a failure that I almost broke out in tears as we walked out to the parking lot. Seriously, is there something wrong with me that I can't make it on time to Erich's ONE weekly commitment*? Also, since this is a class I already paid for, it's just money down the toilet**. I was putting Erich in his car seat when I decided that I really didn't want to go home and admit defeat. I paused and thought about going to the store or somewhere else when I looked up and saw a playground. So off the pair of us went to climb and slide and have a pretty good time.

But here's the clincher, the real point of this boring post. On my drive home, on a narrow, two lane side street, I came across a really bad accident. Two ambulances, one fire truck, and 5 police cars all with their lights on. A smashed up truck and trailer were one side of the road, and a crumpled up sedan was on the other, surrounded by a stretcher and several men prying out the passenger. While my heart goes out to the victims and I hope they're okay, my thoughts are still pretty selfish and I can't help but wonder how long it must have taken for the response team to get there and how long they had been there before I drove past.. 20, 30 minutes? The same amount of time we spent at the park? And I know it's a long shot that Erich and I could've shared the same fate, but it still makes me wonder. And it makes me feel a whole lot better about being an airhead.

*Playgroups don't count because they're free. And everyone else is late, too!
**Sure, all the proceeds go to help fund community programs, but what about ME?

Paper... or Plastic?

2008-04-04T19:58:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't you know it, even the lap of luxury has some dirty little secrets, and in this case, ignorance is definitely not bliss. Where I work, there are two kinds of people: those who know... and those who don't. Those who know drink from paper cups in the cafeteria. The poor schmucks who don't know use the hard, plastic glasses.

I was one of the poor schmucks once, and I'm forever grateful to the wonderful, Columbian laundry valet who urgently whispered a grave truth to me in the recesses of the employee dining room:

"No, no, you shouldn't drink out of that cup! You see over there, how they have paper? You must drink only from the paper!" she implored in her hushed tone.

Okay...

"The plastic cups, the Arabian men, they bring them to the bathroom so they can pour water on their [insert meaningful head-tilt-and-double-glance downward], you know."

Oh My...

"You see, they no use toilet paper. Only water. So they take cups into the bathroom and leave them there. Then, later, the cups are washed in here with everything else."

YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

"So you must only use paper. If there is no more paper, you must ask for paper."

Truer words were never spoken.

I immediately switched cups and entered the club of those who know. Since that fateful day, over a year ago, I have been amazed at how this crude affair is shrouded in secrecy and always discussed in hushed voices - as though someone would be offended if they overheard. (Ooo, the nerve of someone wanting to drink from a poop-free glass!) Even more disturbing is that even now, a random inspection of the employee cafeteria will still turn up tables littered with a sea of paper and plastic. To my knowledge, the Ritz hasn't equipped the mens room with any bidets, so either people don't know.. or they just don't care. And that, friends, is what troubles me the most.

Beware of this Binky!!

2008-04-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

The RaZbaby Keep-It-Kleen Pacifier is a binky designed to shut closed when falling on the floor to, well, keep it clean. It's certainly a novel idea, so I bought one at CVS last year and decided it was pretty cool. Erich could pick it up off the floor, open the shields, and stick it in his own mouth with no hurried cleaning by mama. Plus it looked like Nemo and matched his hair. Suh-weet! Well, the honeymoon ended last week however, when I went to Erich's crib one morning to find his little security blanket shattered into 5 pieces... next to his head! Imagine my horror as I checked to make sure he hadn't swallowed anything.

I was unable to reach anyone by phone, but following is the email I sent to RaZbaby's customer service department.

Customer Service Agent,

I am very upset about your "Keep-it-Kleen Pacifier". When my 14-month-old son awoke in the morning a few days ago, I went to his crib and discovered your KIK Pacifier broken into 5 pieces right next to his head. I don't know how it broke, but the fact of the matter is, this product is too fragile and hazardous for children. I hate to think of what could have happened had he awoken and felt around him in the middle of the night or if I had waited longer to enter his room. This could have been a lethal situation had my son ingested any of those pieces. There were two pieces in particular that gave me tremendous cause for concern: the nipple, which would have blocked his windpipe instantly, and a small, sharp, metal ring. The ring is not much larger than a Cheerio, but the damage and internal bleeding it could cause is sickening. Hypothetically, if my son had ingested that ring and nothing else, I would have examined all other pieces and assumed that nothing was missing. If he began crying I would have had no idea what type of internal damage was occurring and may not have realized that he needed immediate medical attention.

The Keep-it-Kleen Pacifier that you have on the market is extremely dangerous and inappropriate for use by any child, especially infants. I plan to tell everyone I know not to purchase this product until the item has been recalled and all potentially hazardous parts have been removed.

Shattered Nemo:

Frankly, that email doesn't express the complete anger I felt, but I decided it would be more productive to portray myself as the diplomatic-yet-horrified parent as opposed to a psychotic enraged one. Well, one of the owners, Aida, emailed me back right away and then called me this morning. She was very nice and professional, apologizing profusely, saying they have never received a complaint like this, and went into great detail explaining their rigorous testing processes (these include stepping on, running over, and throwing the pacifiers against cement walls). She seemed to feel that my binky was defective and requested that I send it back to their company for testing in their lab, while she sends me a full refund. I told her I was still concerned that the nipple, ring and base weren't one piece, and that separately they still presented a choking hazard. Her response was that they recently updated the model and secured the ring into the shield so it wouldn't come out. But still... it's metal. And that nipple could soo easily block a windpipe. And, as sympathetic as she may be, after playing out the scenerio of 'what if's' in my head, my consumer confidence may never be regained.

Aida said she'll keep me updated on the labs findings. Overall, I'm glad she was so interested in examining the binky to figure out their mistake, but I still feel it's my duty to warn everyone I know about the possible dangers of using this pacifier. Sorry RaZbaby, but it's my responsibility; at least it's cheaper than your unlikely recall.

This is the only shot I could find of Erich sporting his KIK paci. (It also happens to be an excellent representation of his fly dance moves.)

I'll never call my son a monkey again...

2008-03-31T16:43:00.000-07:00

Okay, my mom sent me this. It is totally disgusting, but so worth sharing. Thanks for the blog material, Ma.

"Monkey Pee, Monkey Eww"

My Rocky Relationship with Rachel Ray

2008-03-26T18:47:00.000-07:00

I've never been a huge Rachel Ray fan, but I still like to keep an open mind about things, so I vowed this month to try as many 30-Minute Meals as possible. To start off, 30 minutes is a crock. My average meal meal prep time has been closer to the 90 minute range. (Rachel should try making a meal in half an hour with a dog & toddler underfoot - both looking for scraps - and The Office streaming on her computer. Now, that's real time!) I've only liked about 1/2 the recipes so far. My odds are much better with recipes from friends & fam and Epicurious, my most frequented resources. I think I'll stick with my old standards for a while and start eating food that I enjoy!

Here are my favorite "30 min" recipes so far (yes, I do love pasta):

Cauliflower Sauce with Whole-Wheat Penne

1 lb whole wheat penne rigate
Salt
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, cracked from skin and sliced
1 red onion, finely chopped
1 head cauliflower, stem removed and chopped
1 cup chicken stock
4 sprigs fresh rosemary, leaves stripped and finely chopped
3/4 cup grated Romano, 3 generous handfuls
Salt and black pepper

Boil pasta. Drain and reserve 2 ladles of pasta water.

For sauce, heat a deep skillet over medium heat with extra-virgin olive oil. Add garlic and cook 3 minutes, then remove. Add onions and cook 5 minutes then add cauliflower, chicken stock and the rosemary. Cover the pan and cook 15 minutes. Uncover the sauce, add 1 to 2 ladles of pasta water and mash the cauliflower with the back of a wooden spoon or potato masher. Add the pasta and cheese to the cauliflower and toss to combine. Season the dish with S&P.

You-Won't-Be-Single-For-Long Vodka Cream Pasta

1 tbsp butter
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
12 oz fresh pasta
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil (evoo)
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 shallots, minced
1 cup vodka1 cup chicken broth
1 can crushed tomatoes
1/2 cup heavy cream
20 leaves fresh basil, shredded or torn
Crusty bread (as side)

Boil pasta. Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add evoo, butter, garlic & shallots. Gently saute garlic and shallots, 3-5 minutes, to develop their sweetness. Add vodka and cook to reduce by half, 2 or 3 minutes. Add chicken broth and tomatoes. Bring sauce to a bubble, then reduce heat to simmer. Season with S & P.

Stir cream into the vodka sauce. When sauce returns to a bubble, remove from heat. Toss hot pasta with sauce and basil leaves. Serve with crusty bread.

Welcome to the Monkey House

2008-03-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

I'm seriously considering changing the title of my blog from The Salad Days to The Monkey House. I immediately clung to this expression when I heard Tim Gunn say it to Chris on Project Runway. After an entire season of examining Chris's wacky creations, Tim made the greatest analogy when Chris presented to him garments that used human hair as fringe. He told Chris in a very Tim Gunn way that only Tim Gunn could pull off, that he had been living in the monkey house for too long. His analogy goes something like this: So when you first walk into the monkey house at the zoo, what do you do? You cover your nose and think, "Dang this place stinks!" Then, after 15 minutes or so you start to think, "Well, I guess this isn't so bad." And then, after about 45 minutes you don't even notice it anymore. However, the place never stopped smelling like sh**; you just stopped smelling it.

If you're living in the monkey house, it means you that you no longer notice the mess all around you. If you stay there too long, then you begin to enjoy it or to make it your own. Abandon all hope if crap starts flying across the room.

I feel a lot of days like I'm living in my own monkey house. We spend a lot of time running around the house screeching and climbing the furniture naked. Besides that however, I realize that when the tasks get overwhelming, the blinders turn on. I let dog hair pile up and papers sit on the counters for weeks, my socks never match my outfit and aside from applying makeup on the drive to church (to which we are always late), I am seriously lacking any beauty regimen. I could go on and on about how often I (don't) shower, but I don't want to shatter too many positive assumptions people have made about me. Instead, rest assured that Erich gets a bath, clean clothes, a massage, and weird, organic health food every day.. while I sit in my own filth eating Peanut Butter Crunch.

Thankfully, not every day is a "monkey house" day. That is why I would never title my blog to reflect so. I certainly wouldn't want to embrace a lower standard of living than I have now! But life is an uphill battle to find balance, so I'll keep my scooper in hand and start shoveling that poo out the window. Into the yard- where it might actually do some good.

An Holy Palm Sunday

2008-03-17T12:24:00.000-07:00

Last night, Erich and I (sans poor husband that worked through the weekend) attended a very entertaining morphed holiday celebration hosted by some very creative and innovative friends of ours. I would describe it to you, but I think they did a much better job of summing the night up in the invitation. So, in their own words:

"We have a little tradition of doing something special for Palm Sunday and we thought it would be fun to gather with all of you at the same time. If you can make it, come with some kind of tree branch in hand. We lay down the palm fronds and then read a few scriptures and then sing Easter songs mixed with Christmas songs (so O little Town of Bethlehem sung to the tune of O Savior thou who Wearest, etc) and then we end with a wild rendition of Popcorn popping and gorge ourselves on popcorn and fruit and other beautiful growing things to usher in spring. It goes along with our traditional merging of pagan festivals with holy Christian/Jewish/Muslim holidays."

Well, they were telling the truth, that's exactly what happened, with the exception of an Easter egg hunt. It was great!! I stumbled through the first couple of hymns, but once I got the hang of it, the change of pace was oddly refreshing. The children all participated with the singing and waving of branches-my favorite being the giant IKEA leaf. Erich had a great time and certainly accepted the invitation of gorging himself on the delicious berries (we are definitely going berry picking this summer!). Hopefully this will be the first of many pagan rituals we are invited to blend with our dear friends. Thank you for the great evening, Olsen's!!

Below are some pictures that another pal took at last nights festivities. We arranged a deal where she'll take pictures of Erich soon and I'll repay her using my favorite commodity - me. (That means I'll give her a massage.)

I May Be Doing Something Right After All...

2008-03-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

My poor Erich has had a pretty rough few weeks. First he had a nasty stomach bug followed by a super nasty cold, and then battled what we believe was a miserable ear infection. So naturally, being the empathetic mother that I am, E & I spent most of our days cuddling on the couch and watching cartoons. It was a yummy treat and I completely indulged.

We don't always watch TV though; we usually spend a significant portion of our days reading the zillions of books he has (quite literally) strewn throughout the house. So imagine my glee when, in the middle of Der Prinz von Ägypten (yes, we've spent a fortune on Disney auf Deutsch), Erich slid off my lap, toddled over to his diaper bag and pulled out his Baby Moses book! I was shocked that he associated that book to what was on TV, which proves that he understands a lot more than I thought. It may not seem like much of a feat to an experienced parent, but its just so amazing to watch my little boy grow up. Besides, I must get a few brownie points upstairs for teaching my kid a Bible story.

Boo-YA!

2008-03-11T19:40:00.000-07:00

Click here to check out
The Arlington German speaking Playgroup!

Ich kann Deutsch... sort of.

2008-03-09T22:10:00.000-07:00

As many may know, Marc and I are trying to raise Erich speaking German. Yeah, it might seem random at first, but if you know us its really not so much. Marc took German in college but he's also half Swiss, so he's had a lot of exposure and strong ties to the language. We also have a lot of German blood between the two of us, so speaking German in our home seemed to us to be the perfect holla' back to our ancestry. We've always talked about doing this, but I didn't get serious about learning the language until Erich was born. I'm now in a second semester course, which Marc is taking with me as a refresher. (To be honest, I'm so glad he's there! He's naturally the smartest in the class and not shy in the least, so he raises the bar while bringing me out of my shell.) And now that Erich is 1 and saying his first words, the heat is on! I feel sometimes like he and I are in a race to see who can pick up the language faster. Sure, he can't form a lot of words yet, but I know he's listening and absorbing everything I say. And that is where the trouble lies; in my presentation. I'm no linguist and German is certainly not my native tongue. To say the least and I've had... moments. Sometimes I get really excited and have all the faith in the world in my abilities. Other times, however; I'm convinced that I'm making a mess of my child and I'll never be able to pull this off. I should add though, that those negative feelings have greatly decreased in volume and intensity over time. I only wish I'd started sooner. I still worry a lot that I'm not coming across to Erich as sincere, fun and confident, so I try to be very aware of how I come across when I speak to him.

We have a pretty decent arsenal of German books, dvds and music, but I'm always on the lookout for more - as at this point they help me more than they do Erich. I did a Google search today for "German Dr. Seuss" and found the best site: Alphabet Garten. It was truly a blessing to find because the woman who runs this website is a non-native German speaker (married to a German) and she keeps a blog about her family's bilingual life. She also links to all kinds of support sites for multilingual families. It was exactly what I needed!! I can't say what a relief it is to read about other parents in my same position with the exact same concerns, and then to read the reports and studies about why those concerns are crap! Seriously, check this out . What I realize now is just what Marc has been telling me all along: Don't give a damn. Around friends, family, or anyone, just speak German as best I can, make mistakes and don't care what they may think or say. The only person I need to care about is Erich and if I stay focused then I'm giving him gifts that will last forever. And now that I've said that... I hope you all hold me to it! I mean it now, if you're really my friend then you won't let me slack off in front my kid.

To top this all off, I joined a German playgroup through Meetup.com. I haven't officially been accepted yet, though. The group representative sent me an email basically saying (depending how well I translated my German) that they expect all members to speak only German at home and with the playgroup. And if thats where I'm at then let him know. Yikes. I basically responded (in broken German), uh yeah, sure, I can do that.

I'm so scared.

Project Runway Finale... Fierce!!

2008-03-04T20:06:00.000-08:00

This little lady is sooo excited for the Project Runway finale tomorrow!! Who will win? I have no idea, but I hope its Christian; he's "super fierce!" (and totally into himself). I really like Jillian, too, but I think Christian would add a lot of drama and new ideas to the fashion industry. Not that I'm any fashionista, but who doesn't love drama?! Rami definitely takes third in my book. Unless his final collection is amazing and changes my mind, I've still got him pigeon-holed as a Grecian draper. Sorry, Rami, love ya though!

If you're just like me and love spoiling surprises, check out the photos of Fashion Week 2008 here. Now it's your turn, Runway fans, who do you think should win?

BumGenius Owes Me Money

2008-03-01T08:51:00.000-08:00

For all the people I've talked into switching to cloth diapers I should be charging some kind of finders fee! Okay, so I DO get a lot of satisfaction from bringing people over to the cloth side, and I DO believe I'm making the world a better place, but I sure wouldn't mind the occasional free diaper, BG! *wink, wink* I wrote an email a while ago detailing all that I've learned from my booty-wrapping experiences and send it out to everyone that asks. For any interested, here is a chunk of it:

To start off, the main reason I went with BumGenius over another brand is because they have a one-size adjustable diaper that fits from 8-35 lbs.

Here is the link to where I buy my diapers. I have 20 diapers, which is the perfect amount for me because I'll be doing laundry every 3 days and have a few to keep in the diaper bag all the time. And to be honest, you HAVE to do laundry every few days or else plug your nose when you put those things in the washer! After I started Erich on milk, his wet diapers began to smell like ammonia after a few days, but I bleach the inserts occasionally to keep the smell down.

For nighttime I use these as inserts instead of the ones that come with the diapers. I have 3. They're bulky but really absorbent.

And I place these in the diaper to catch poo (then I flush it). (Fyi, if there is a REALLY bad blowout I shake the diaper in the toilet for a few secs before putting it in the laundry.)

And I have one of these in a trash can with a lid.

I keep one of these wet bags in the diaper bag and wash it with the diapers:

My trash can is in a cupboard thing that mom made me. I just blot tea tree oil on a fabric swatch already in the bag. It keeps any smell in really well.

For laundry, I do 2 cycles, the first is cold/cold, to break up stains, and the second hot/cold. For detergent I use Purex Free n' Clear. You have to use something w/o any frangrances, softeners or additives because they leave a coating on the diapers and make them less absorbent. (A friend of mine throws vinegar in every couple cycles to remove any traces of that, but I haven't had a problems with my detergent.) This also means you can't use any fabric sheets in the dryer.

Well, there you have it, an unsolicited taste of my Diapering Diaries, as I so fondly call them. If anyone is interesting in the whole thing, just let me know! And make sure to tell me if you switch to BG because of my advice; it will help me to plead my case for a free diaper. :)

Sams Story in The Daily Universe

2008-02-29T18:44:00.000-08:00

There was an article printed today in The Daily Universe, BYU's newspaper. Hopefully this will keep the prayers and donations flowing.

Update on Sam

2008-02-28T21:17:00.000-08:00

I received this last week:

This week Sam moved out of the Surgical ICU and into the Neurological Care Unit. He now has feeling down to his wrists. His breathing has also improved. He's still on oxygen, but not having to use a ventilator. And, because he doesn't have a ventilator, he is able to eat (although he's not too thrilled about hospital food). On Tuesday Sam said, "Ashley, I'm not going to be a cripple. I'm going to walk again."

And this one is from yesterday:

Sam has recently been moved to the new Intermountain Medical Center in Murray, Utah. He will begin his first day of rehab tomorrow. He will be there for at least 3 months.

Also, the website www.donateforsam.org has been redone and his wife, Ashley, is posting updates there on his progress.
Thanks everyone for all of your prayers and support!!

Erich = Diva

2008-02-27T12:30:00.000-08:00

My child has lost it. Last week he started throwing temper tantrums. Where do they learn this stuff?? If he doesn't get his way or totally out of the blue he'll do one of two things: 1) scream sitting in place or 2) scream sprawled out face down on the floor.

I've decided that either the terrible twos have started early or that colic is setting in late. Either way, I have no idea how to stop it. I walk away, he flips, I tell him to come over, he flips. I pick him up, he's happy as a clam. My system isn't working.

There is one caveat however, possibly a beacon of hope. He was sick. He threw up twice on Sunday and once on Monday night (either that or I had a nightmare from 2:30 - 5:30 am). I'm hoping he's just feeling yucky these couple weeks and next week I'll have my little bubble back. And that he hasn't learned new effective ways to make mama miserable!

Donate for Sam

2008-02-21T10:20:00.000-08:00

Below is an email I just sent out to everyone on my email list. I'm hoping that posting it on my blog will encourage more support. Thank you everyone so much for you prayers and donations!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Family and Friends,

I just found out that a friend of mine, Sam, was paralyzed in a serious snowboarding accident. This hits very close to home because he's the little brother of my best friend growing up. My own little brother and I used to spend practically every day at their house and I still think of Sam as the bright, fun and conscientious kid I grew up with. His wife just had a baby and unfortunately, at the time of the accident, he wasn't insured. So you can see that this news is devastating.

Please, take the time to read the attached email and visit the website his wonderful friends set up for him: www.donateforsam.org. Please keep Sam and his family in your hearts and in your prayers, and if there is any way you can help them by making a donation, I know it would mean the world to them and to me.

My love and thanks to you all,

Melissa

---------- Forwarded message ----------

Dear Family and Friends,

A year and half ago we moved into our new home in Pleasant Grove, Utah. At that time Blair's foster brother and best friend, Sam Harrison, and his wife, Ashley, moved into our basement apartment. Since that day, we've pretty much been one big happy family. They love our kids like their own, and we love them more than words could ever express. It would honestly be hard to imagine our lives without them in it.

Six weeks ago, Sam and Ashley were happier than we've ever seen, as they gave birth to their first son, Benjamin Alexander. Although Benji arrived three weeks early, he is as happy and healthy as can be.

Now, the reason for my email. This past Saturday night, Sam, was in a
horrible snowboarding accident while night skiing at Brighton ski resort.
He unintentionally hit a jump that threw him up in the air; he flipped
around landing on his head breaking his neck in three places & paralyzing him from the shoulders down.

Sam finished working in December and is currently enrolled in night school at BYU. They were in the process of deciding what to do as far as health insurance went for him; therefore, Sam does not have medical coverage at this time. As you can imagine, the financial strain would be overwhelming even if he had had insurance.

Our hearts ache for our dear friends; we haven't slept in days trying to
comprehend how quickly one's life can change in such an unexpected, short amount of time. If there is anything you can spare for this family it would be truly appreciated. We have set up a non-profit organization and website with Sam's story and photos. You may visit the site at
www.donateforsam.org. Donations can also be made to any Zions Bank to the account name: Sam Harrison Donation. All information is posted on the website.

Please keep the Harrison Family in your prayers.

Love, Holly & Blair Hasler

P.S. Please circulate this email; post it on your blog, tell your friends.
Every little bit will help. Once again, www.donateforsam.org

The Prince of Darkness

2008-01-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

While working at the spa a couple weeks ago, I made a quick stop at the front desk. Suddenly one of my coworkers turned to me and spa-screamed “That’s Ozzy Osborne!” I quickly scanned the lobby but I only saw a large black man in street clothes and a lady with long black hair wearing a robe.

Assuming the girl didn’t know what she was talking about (seriously, not to stereotype, but do Hispanics even listen to heavy metal?), I told her that’s not Ozzy, that’s a big black guy! On second glance, however, I realized that standing next to him wasn’t just an ugly old lady, that was the Prince of Darkness himself! He looked just like himself, too, glasses and all. I think it was the robe that threw me off at first – the reason why I diverted my eyes so quickly. If I could choose which celebrity I would like to have standing 15 feet from me in a bathrobe, it probably wouldn’t be Ozzy, but heck, it’s still cool!

Apparently his highness performed at the Verizon Center that night with Rob Zombie, and was suffering from the flu. He was so sick, he was drinking tea onstage and spraying his throat after every song. That must have been his motivation to visit our little spa. We didn’t seem to help him out much, though. What a trooper!

Still feeling the butterflies, after all these years

2008-01-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

January 2nd marked Marc & my 4 year wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we stuffed our faces with a 5 course meal at a schmanzy restaurant in Las Vegas (effectively shattering about 5 different new years resolutions). As we raised our non-alcoholic pomegranate spritzers to praise our achievement, my husband gave the greatest toast ever.

"Here's to four more years of wedded bliss!" he beamed.

The toast seemed to lack something in the realm of "eternal happiness". But although it seemed silly at first, I suppose when you're dealing with as much love and elation as we do, our blissful state can seem a tad mind-boggling. And if want to keep our feet on the ground, we may need to contemplate our rapture in shorter intervals. Good thinking, Hun.

the proposal

I've Been Duped

2007-11-23T23:16:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, I wanted to be a star and appeared in a pilot for a TV show. Before anyone gets impressed, let me set the record straight. My venture into the spotlight was not the glorious 15 minutes I'd hoped for. The show's producer approached me at a club (I know, red flag!) and I agreed to the gig thinking I'd be some sort of background dancer. When I showed up however, the "producer/director/writer" (yeah, ego much?) shoved me in front of the camera and said something to the effect of: "Okay, now talk about what we're doing, what the show is about and be charming!" Off the cuff and no rehearsals. Ever. Let's just say it took a while for me to stop staring at the camera lights like a frightened deer, and it took several more takes for me to stop saying “um...”.

So here's the premise: I was co-host with this other guy, let’s call him "Kelly", a pretty metro-sexual type who sold himself as a 'seasoned actor'. We would trek around town, hitting Salt Lake’s hot night spots and telling all the folks at home how sensational they were. To make a long story short, the producer was an inexperienced, egocentric control freak, his crew quit and the pilot didn't pick up. I really didn't mind too much. The finished product turned out pretty choppy and although I wasn't the worst actor in the crew, my performance was definitely rough. So no, you will never, ever see it.

I only tell this story to give you an idea of why I completely flipped this summer when I casually flipped on the TV before bed and caught the very beginning of a home improvement show on HGTV. The host had just finished telling the lovely couple about the dazzling improvements he had planned. He then turned to introduce his team of professionals and HERE is where all of my assumptions about home improvement shows were shattered. I KNEW CONTRACTOR #1! There was Kelly, his normally perfect hair slightly tussled, and dressed down from his collared shirt and Kenneth Cole shoes to faded jeans and a tool belt. As I watched him deliver his lines and smile while he slammed the hammer, I was beside myself. I always thought the people on screen actually did the construction, but this man was not the do-it-yourself type. I suppose I should have known better, but truth was, I'd been duped. Obviously, the "contractors" were pretty boys who were simply fed lines and filmed pounding a couple nails while the REAL men got to it next door. So now I wonder, who are those real guys that do the dirty work and why aren't THEY on camera? Because they're old, don't bleach their teeth or blow dry their hair? Sounds to me like an episode of This Old House… Okay, so even I wouldn't watch that, but I still don’t like the pretense, fellas.

cute, Cute, CUTE!

2007-11-14T20:26:00.000-08:00

So I've been spending Marc's hard-earned money on shoes for Erich. I found this super cute site and ohmygawsh, you HAVE to check out my latest aquisitions:

Rileyroos Sportie in "Wahoo" and "Butterscotch"

They are freakin' awesome. And even cuter in real life - if you can even believe it! Seriously, since I got them in the mail last week, Little E has worn these puppies everywhere. And they're more than just fashionable, when he wears them he can actually stand on his own for up to 15 seconds! Woo-hoo! (Bare-footed he still tries to walk tippytoed.) Also, just for fun I got a couple of these. Holy crap, my kid is so cute!

Gotta Love Lefties

2007-11-11T21:19:00.000-08:00

If he keeps pulling off his left sock

does that mean he's left-handed?

wishful thinking...

A Little Peace'll Cost Ya

2007-11-09T21:31:00.000-08:00

100 : Approximate # of times Jäger had the runs in the last 3 days

6 : # of times he didn't make it past the threshold

$210 : Ridiculous amount spent on the veterinarian visit

$140 : Cost of one BadA** Jäger-can't-get-into-this-mother trash can (which, by the way looks AMAZING in our kitchen and increased the value of our home by an estimated 2%)

The price of a good nights sleep and coming home to poop-free floors : Priceless. Or $350. I still can't decide.

Not a “Housewife”: a “Woman on Vacation”

2007-10-19T10:51:00.000-07:00

So am I the world’s most undependable blogger or what? At least you can’t say I didn’t warn you all I would take another hiatus someday… Suddenly, though I feel the need to express myself more, and I’m pretty sure it’s a direct result of recently switching my day job from a full-time Rubber to a full-time Mudder. (Hey, it almost rhymes.)

I love being home. I have a theory that some women need to spend most of their time around the home and some need to spend most of it doing anything else. My sister and I are perfect examples of this. She’s home with her 3 month old and losing her mind. She loves one on one time with her little boy but the down time is killing her. She actually said to me: “I mean, how many more drawers can I organize before losing my mind?!” I told her to get a dog or write a blog. She decided she’ll try to start a business.

On the other hand, I have every minute of my day planned to maximize my home time. This does NOT mean I’m lazy, People. I still work Saturdays - to keep life interesting and the hotel discounts coming – I’m taking a 5 credit German class, and I keep up on chores and errands. (Okay, okay, so I called a maid. But I do run the errands.) I just love to be at home. I leave for class at the last possible second and come home right after. I run with the dog so he’ll sleep and cuddle with me while I do my homework. I run errands with Erich while he naps so I can let him crawl around my feet while I clean. I fold laundry in front of the TV because I want to watch TV curled on the couch without feeling guilty (so what if it takes twice as long :P). And best of all, I get to see and catch up with friends. I can go out to lunch, chat online, pop over to the neighbors, make phone calls, etc. I didn’t notice how anti-social I used to be while I was working. My worn out line was: “Oh, I can’t, I have to work.” Not anymore! And although I do plan on going back to work or school again, it may be from home and will certainly be on my own terms.. because this freedom deal is addictive. *

*Of course, behind every woman with freedom is a man without it, so this post is dedicated to my Sugar Daddy. Ich liebe dich, Husband, esq.

VSoM

2007-07-12T19:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I ended up writing for VSoM a little longer than I had planned, but at least I have a few more posts to show for it (that otherwise would not have been written). Check 'em out:

"Can You Put a Price on Forever?"
"Grey Matter"
"Stranger-than-the-Average-Mormon"
"He Started Out a Straight Up Punk"

Jarvis Cocker is still a Cocky Rocker. And I like it.

2007-06-25T22:48:00.000-07:00

I feel so lucky when I catch quality moments on the radio. I feel smart, happy and proud to know a fun piece of information that I can impress others with. Today I caught Terry Gross interviewing Jarvis Cocker on Fresh Air. Jarvis Cocker is famously known as the former lead singer of the Brit-pop indie band Pulp and infamous for mooning Michael Jackson onstage at the Brit Awards in ’96. I used to be really into his music, thanks to the influence of my older sis’, and this interview made me burn with nostalgia for those tunes I used to love.

My favorite part of the interview is when Jarvis bashes rock music. In his words, rock is just so “I HAVE MY MESSAGE FOR THE WORLD AND YOU MUST LISTEN AND IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.”

“Oh give me a break, please,” he scoffs.

Jarvis goes on to say that he prefers pop music because, unlike rock, it doesn’t carry with it an inflated sense of its own importance. Although some pop songs have profoundly affected him, they didn’t try to do it. Music can be profound, but usually by accident. It doesn’t get there by taking itself too seriously and striving for profundity. (I can certainly agree with that after recently renting Music & Lyrics... no profundity in that one.)

I decided this guy is so cool (there's just something about those glasses) that if I ever have another son I should name him Jarvis. Then I realized that in German, Jarvis sounds like Yarr-fiss. Now, I don’t know what a Yard fish is, but I certainly don’t want my son to be mistaken for one. That leaves me with Cocker… Cocker Bohn. Niiice.

A Letter to The Blog

2007-06-17T21:06:00.001-07:00

Dear Blog,

I'm sorry, Blog! I feel like I've abandoned you. I do miss our good times, but I've been keeping very busy. As it turns out writing serious posts can be pretty time consuming. The past few weeks I've written about being Single and Mormon, Ghosts, and Dads. I'm ready for some lighter fair again, though. I'll come back to you soon... if you'll have me.

On my knees,
Melbo

Adultery... Again

2007-05-28T20:26:00.000-07:00

I know I shouldn't flaunt my scarlet letter so recklessly, but I've posted two more blogs on VSoM. Here's one on Famil y and another on Gay Marriage.

I'm Having an Affair

2007-05-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

I'm having an affair... with another blog. And I won't be ending things anytime soon. For the next couple of months I'll be writing for VSoM on Wednesdays. The topic this week is Moms.

Deutsch on the Gehirn

2007-05-01T10:21:00.000-07:00

In honor of Erich’s Swiss & German roots, we’ve decided to try to raise him “auf Deutsch.” I’ve been learning to speak German through Post-it's around the house, Marc’s diligent tutoring, and the language learning software Rosetta Stone. I was studying almost daily until I started working again 3 weeks ago. Since then it’s been going… okay. Marc used to bug me to study constantly, but soon realized life would be too busy until he’s done with school. Just yesterday he informed me that he would be a "German studying Nazi" once finals are over. I knew he was only joking that he would be strict, like Seinfield’s "Soup Nazi" (“No soup for you!”), so I took joy in pointing out the undertones of what he'd just said. He’s so cute when he blushes.

In some of my Rosetta Stone lessons I have to match phrases with pictures. My most recent lesson was about size. Fat is “dick”, thin is “dünn”, and very is “sehr.” The sentence below reads:

“The women are very fat.”

I call THAT a German lesson. I’m glad I’m learning the important things first!
Now... do you think those women know they’re in that picture?

Erich - 14 weeks

2007-04-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

I love him.

Happy Conception Day

2007-04-25T10:22:00.000-07:00

Happy Conception Day!

We're pretty sure we conceived our son exactly one year ago today.

awwwwww!!!

I told Marc that for his gift I would wait a day to tell him that I'm pregnant again. hahaha....

The Great Debate

2007-04-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

To G or not to G? That is the question.

I’ve decided to ditch Erich’s landfill cloggers and live a little greener. That’s right friends, the Bohns are going cloth. I used to think cloth diapers would be a lot of work but many friends have convinced me otherwise. No more pins and plastic covers, diapers of the old days are Pintos compared to what’s out there now. And although I’d really like to be creative and resourceful like some people I know, I’m just not that dedicated. So I’m ready with my credit card, but there are options galore and I simply can’t decide between the Mercedes and the BMW.

I’ve narrowed it down to two brands:

gdiapers & bumGenius

Both have their advantages and disadvantages; however, I won’t bore anyone with the details. Frankly I don’t feel like typing it all out. But it’s the funniest thing; I’m really excited to be more “hands on” with my child’s puddles and squirts (that’s what we call poo & pee in our house). It will feel good to help the environment in my own little way. (Man, I’m such a liberal.)

So there I was tonight, researching my new obsession with my little angel cuddled in my lap, playing with his own latest obsession, his hands. I was reading up on the Stacinator, a diaper cover that’s supposedly a “great way to stop day and nighttime diaper leaks,” when Erich suddenly became squirmy. I lifted him up to find brown leakage all over us and his blanket. Oh, the irony just kills me. That Stacinator thing sounds pretty fabulous.

Various Stages of Mormondom

2007-04-15T18:24:00.000-07:00

I just made a guest post on a blog called Various Stages of Mormondom. It’s a site devoted to discussing issues from the perspectives of people in various stages of Mormonism, ranging from fully active to atheist. A weekly topic is assigned and each person has their day to shine, while a guest blogger is invited to post every Sunday. I was invited to participate as today on the topic of Resurrection.

You can check it out here:

Various Stages of Mormondom

If nothing else, make sure to tune in to the site next Sunday. Marc will be bringing the house down.

Propagating the Species

2007-04-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

God has a plan for new mothers. It’s called memory loss. By overloading our systems, eventually all the pain and turbulence morphs into bliss and becomes one big blur. This is how the human race continues to thrive.

My final week of pregnancy I could have run a marathon to force thiat child out. Then while I was in labor, the pain was so bad ahat a shovel to the head would have felt better. I opted for the epidural over the shovel, but I waited long enough to guarantee the contractions were a pain I’ll always remember, not only to rub it in my son’s face one day, but so I don’t fool myself into thinking that a natural birth might actually be a good idea. (It’s not.)

The hospital stay was traumatic in its own right. Dozens of strangers shoving their way in my room at all hours to fill out forms (those were Marc’s guests), to poke and prod Erich and me, to throw off the sheets and examine how things are going “down there” and ask when my last “pee pee” and “poo poo” was (like, they do know I’m not the baby, right?). Don’t even get me started on the Nazi lactation nurses fondling me every two hours while smashing Erich’s face into my breasts. The only person that didn’t wake me up was the food lady, and she was the only one I waited up for.

It didn’t take long after settling in at home to have my first emotional/mental/physical breakdown. I lasted 24 hours before I sent Marc out in a blizzard to fill my prescriptions. I stayed home with a body that wouldn’t function, a baby that wouldn’t nurse, and breasts that wouldn’t stop growing. (Normally I wouldn’t complain about the last one, but I wasn’t thinking rationally at the time.) Another epidural would’ve been welcome, but I settled for an ocean of tears and the beloved Percoset my darling husband brought home. Ice packs, heating pads and oxycodone saved my life. I spent the next month healing, sleeping, nursing and trying not to poop. At least my kid is freakin’ adorable.

Now that my 13 week old sack of potatoes is sleeping through the night (10 hours last night!), babbling through his huge gummy grin and keeping his once 2 hour feeds at less than 40 minutes now, I’m starting to forget. My higher power is putting His Magic Eraser to work, obliterating traumatic portions of the past few months. Forever recording my experience in the blogosphere wasn’t likely part of God’s plan for new mothers, but He has a special plan for me. I’m beginning to forget what it felt like, but I hope by writing this, I don’t forget what happened. I propagate the species by accidental fertilization. It’s happened once, and it could happen again. At least next time I’ll know what to expect.

Don't Know Whatcha Got 'Til it's Gone

2007-02-23T20:21:00.000-08:00

Toning up a post-pregnancy body is like reassembling a cake that’s fallen on the floor. Some pieces fit back where they belong but there are ultimately chunks leftover, and you really end up wishing you had swept the dog hair from the floor before baking. Right now my stomach looks like I pushed my thumb into a ball of playdough (thumb print = belly button). I’m hoping I can get at least some definition back, but I’ll have to accept the fact that some of my cake/playdough might be forever laced with last nights stuffing: Lumpy. Discolored. And maybe a little salty.

The realization came last month, about a week after giving birth to my little baby boy. Looking in the mirror, I noticed several red marks across the top of my bum. These mysterious painless “scratches” came out of nowhere. Jäger hadn’t jumped me from behind any time recently, and they definitely weren’t Marc's handiwork (for as beaten up as I was, I wasn’t letting that poor guy anywhere near my booty.)We had been dealing with a bit of a mouse problem at the time, but I think I’d remember a giant rodent clawing at my ass. That left only one dreaded explanation for these unsightly blemishes: stretch marks. I had survived my entire pregnancy without a single one... or so I thought. Truth is, while in my “enlarged” state, I purposely avoided checking out my bare backside out of sheer terror. Well, that and I didn’t have enough mirrors to look at it anyway; twisting in any direction certainly wasn’t a feat I could manage without assistance. In any case, I’m told these lines too shall pass, or at least fade into “flat silvery streaks.” Great. With any luck I’ll have a tinsel butt by next Christmas. Though be it a rock hard tinsel butt! Bounce a quarter off that, Santa.

Why I give my money to NPR

2006-10-24T17:28:00.000-07:00

I'd like to make a shout out to my sister and brother-in-law in La Crosse. I heard this on NPR this morning and now I know why your kinky little 3rd congressional district covers the southwestern border of the state - because you cheeseheads like it HOT. Ohh yeah.

"Forget Las Vegas and New York! La Crosse, Wisconsin has to be America's next Super Sex Capital, and the 3rd district's congressman, Democrat Ron Kind, is apparently the Larry Flint of congress."

Just what is THIS about, you ask? Well, you can see the ad for yourself right here.

Don't worry though, because "for the record, Ron Kind is about as straight laced as a Mormon Missionary. (And the money he allegedly funneled to the sex industry was a bipartisan measure to fund the National Institutes of Health)."

Whew!! You can hear the whole story on All Things Considered (it's about 4 minutes long). It's about YouTube being used as a vessel for the evil campaigning of twisted politicians. Good stuff, NPR! Way to keep my afternoon commute spicy!

Waste Management

2006-10-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

I recently saw this sign posted in a public restroom. (Lucky I had my digital camera with me!) It makes one wonder.... Just what should go into the toilet? I mean, does "any wastes" really mean any waste?? I certainly didn't check the trash can to find out.

Baby On Board

2006-09-04T07:32:00.000-07:00

Guess what, World?!!!

I’M PREGNANT!!!

First, the facts:

It’s a BOY
I’m 21 weeks along
Due January 15, 2007 (Barely missed the tax write-off. Oh well!)

Secondly, What I Love So Far:

1. Showing my Belly Off – I’m a proud mama, and if you land in our home any evening, you’ll get a full dose of my beautiful, round, exposed belly. Sure, I practice more modesty at work, but I have no qualms about tight shirts. I love anything that screams “Look at my gut!”

2. The Ultrasound (or Sonogram, whatever) – Even though prodding my full bladder for an hour felt like a form of Chinese Torture, every second was too short. I couldn’t take my eyes off of that squirmy little monster.

3. Feeling the Little Guy Move – Fascinating, comforting and sometimes irritating, it’s the funkiest feeling ever. Even more satisfying was the first time Marc got to feel it. I’m afraid I’ll feel so empty when it’s gone (or relieved? I don’t know, ladies, you tell me!).

4. Cleavage – I’m not sure if the mama or the papa is happier about these developments. It’s pretty great, though.

5. Doting – Everyone wants to take care of the pregnant lady! I haven’t carried anything heavy at work for months. Apparently lifting a bag of lotions will give me a hernia. Well, just in case they’re right, who am I to take that kind of a risk?

6. Father and Son Bonding Time – Here’s where I get all mushy. The moments Marc spends whispering to and rubbing my belly are my favorite of all.

7. Eating Whatever I Want – I’m so obsessive about my cravings that my sweet hubs has learned not to say anything as long as I’m within reason. (Even when I’m not, he’s learning to be careful.)

And finally, the reasons it’s not so great (I’ll gloss over these). They include: midnight trips to the bathroom, sleeping on my left side (my poor shoulder), moving at a snails pace, and being sleepy, forgetful, cranky, moody, achy, and suffering a wide array of digestion issues. The list goes on, but I'm told I’m “lucky” because at least I didn’t puke!!

What a Day.

2006-07-10T20:58:00.000-07:00

Words you don't want to hear at the end of a LONG day at the spa:

"... 80 minute deep tissue massage... really big guy... plays for the Redskins... 6'-5".. 300lbs...
ALL MUSCLE..."

The word you say in your head after hearing those words:

Well... you can use your imagination. I guarantee I thought of them all. Nice guy, though.

...and by the way, I never did find the spider.

2006-07-07T17:14:00.000-07:00

Did I park too close to that other car? "Perhaps," I thought the other day as I contorted my body to inch out of the driver's side door. But just how close is too close?

Well, I'll tell you what too close is. Too close is squeezing your way back to that door in the middle of the night only to bulldoze a spider web with your face. That, my friends, is too close.

Almost Fat Free. Almost.

2006-06-24T12:38:00.000-07:00

Ingredients: sugar, partially defatted peanuts, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, dextrose, nonfat milk, yada yada yada…

_______________

I ate half of a pound of Reese's today (well worth my current stomach ache), and the whole time I kept wondering:

"Why bother to defat the peanuts and milk if they’re just going to partially hydrogenate the soybeans?"

Hmm....

Seeking the pure, uncontaminated truth? Just Ask Amy.

2006-06-23T15:23:00.000-07:00

I love Amy. Amy Dickinson, that is. She is the wise and witty woman who pens the Ask Amy advice column each day for millions to ponder over their coffee and Grape Nuts (in my case the latter). If you've read some of her work, then you know this woman doesn't fool around. She sure knows a thing or two about common sense, and she'll point it out (in her own beautifully forward way) if you don't. I enjoy most of Amy's responses, and I imagine she has a lot of fun with her answers (in between eye rolls) as she often has a way of jabbing those who should know better. A prime example is her recent response to this overly germophobic grandmother*:

Dear Amy:

What is wrong with people? Don't they know anything about spreading germs?

We were in a restaurant with my son, his wife and my 6-month-old granddaughter, and this old man walks by and comments on how cute the baby is and then touches her on the face!

Then yesterday we were in another restaurant and the waitress touched the baby again and again on the face, on her bare head and on her hands every time she came to the table.

And then you know how the baby sticks her hands in her mouth, right? I know the waitress did not wash her hands and am sure she handled dirty dishes.

Okay. So I am germ-phobic, but I know that touching with the hands is a major source of spreading germs.

This is a little baby and is very susceptible to picking up colds and who knows what else from human-to-human contact! Please inform the general public to keep their hands off of my grandchild!

What do I have to do, put a sign on her?

-Hands Off Please

________________________

Dear Hands Off,

I share your concern. I am very worried for your granddaughter because, instead of being kept at home in her safety bubble where she belongs, she is evidently being taken to restaurants and out in public, where there are germs smeared on every surface and anyone can touch her at will.

I'm further worried because I'm not sure if you remembered to wash your hands after you touched the doorknob on your way out of the ladies room and again after you grasped your chair as you seated yourself at the table.

It is not polite for strangers to touch babies, not because they might spread germs but because even babies have a right to their autonomy and shouldn't be stroked without permission.

But really -- you do have a problem. You are both wrong and very unpleasant about this. I hope that your son and his wife can prevail upon you to lighten up and back off. Soon enough, your granddaughter will be crawling. If you think her current world is germy, then just wait until she decides to cut her teeth on her daddy's cellphone or on the dog's chew toy.
- Amy

*I’m taking this opportunity to ward of my husbands imminent claim that I’m a hand washing nazi. It’s true, I can’t stand having dirty hands, but I take comfort in knowing I’m not THIS bad.

The Suckiest Forward Ever

2006-06-13T09:35:00.000-07:00

So I just got a foward from a friend the other day that I'm still fuming about. Maybe you've all received it before: the one about Asians eating stillborn babies? It comes complete with very realistic looking pictures of a man preparing, cooking and eating human fetuses. (I won't curse any of you with links to the pics, because they will haunt you. I'll let you look them up yourself if you're that curious, but I beg you to abstain.)

Anyway, the whole thing is horrible, and I'm pissed at the friend who sent it to me. Why would I want to see trash like that? The whole premise is a hoax, which is obvious if you do a little research*. And a little research is EXACTLY what one should do before passing along this kind of garbage.

I just sent my friend what I found out, not that it will make much of a difference. You can't do much to stop the sickos out there any more than you can the neurotic forwarders.

*The hoax is this: some sick bastard in China named Zhu Yu decided to put together a piece of performance art, most likely using animal and doll parts to resemble babies. He took pictures of himself eating this monstrosity and posted them all over the internet, calling it "art". This man should burn.

Why I Took a Blogging Vacation (and why it’s likely to happen again):

2006-05-28T22:14:00.000-07:00

I haven’t blogged for a while (news flash) and the time has ripened for me to make my comeback. Perhaps now I can find the time, means and motivation to expand on the hundreds of ideas I’ve come up with. I honestly could write something every day if I made the effort. I am chock full of random thoughts, ideas, annoyances, etc. Not convinced? Well, in my computer I’ve created a Blog Idea file. Here I have a list. A list where all my grand ideas are typed, sometimes outlined, occasionally begun, and rarely completed. Marc likes to say my Blog Idea file is where all my blogs go to die. Sadly, there is immense truth in this.

My problem is this, folks: I’m a worrier. Specifically on the subject of time. This is where I have issues with blogging, an inconvenient "single task" task. Writing doesn’t always fill my voracious need to cross out "to dos". When I write I can’t do much more than eat, watch tv, or poo (not that I would ever do the latter - girls don’t poo. It’s true, we don’t. We’re always constipated.). I have admitted in the past that blogging can actually be therapeutic and satisfying, and I still believe this; however, every time I write, read or make a comment, my relief and pride in my work soon develop into a twinge of guilt over lost time. I don’t suppose they make a morning after pill for that…

I speak as though productivity is the cure, but it’s not. No matter how much I accomplish, I frequently feel like I’ve lost precious irretrievable moments from my already too short days. The cure is finding a balance - it's prioritizing - something I’m sure we all could improve on.

I suppose this post has been a good therapy session for me. Instead of ironing or doing work, I just spent a record breaking 6 hours online doing nothing of note. I was a lazy bum and it feels pretty good. I only hope I don’t regret it in the morning.

Sick and Wrong

2006-04-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

For those that haven't heard the latest in Czech pampering, check this one out:

Real Beer Baths

"The major bath ingredient is Dark Bathing Beer... characteristic beer foam of caramel colour... client is immersed into the baths which is enriched by a batch of active beer yeast [sic]..."

Did somebody say Spring Break in Chodovar?

That’s right, welcome to the newest and drunkenest spa on the planet, where a 20 minute soak can, get this, “enable the relaxed body and mind to release a stream of positive thoughts and energy.” So they’re saying beer can relax you? Who knew?!

But if just a soak isn’t enough, or if you’re tempted to drink the bathwater, you’d better take a tip from the pros: “To enhance the relaxation experience, the guests are recommended a glass of unique non-pasteurized Rock Lager...” Or as we say here in the states, “Moderation and sensible drinking are for pussies. Chug-a-lug, bro!”

Now I’ve officially made myself sick.

Husbanding 101

2006-04-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

Nothing forces a pre-menstrual woman into a

Chocolate Feeding Frenzy

more than rationing her
Girl Scout Cookies!

SO DON'T DO IT AGAIN!
(You know who you are!!)

2006-04-04T19:31:00.000-07:00

I have trouble remembering anyone’s eye color but I remember easily how messed up their teeth are.

What does that say about me?

Check it Out

2006-04-01T10:40:00.000-08:00

Check it out -- Melbo blogged
three days in a row!!
If I were bowling, I'd get a turkey!

Hate Me if You Must, but I Still Won

2006-03-31T18:30:00.000-08:00

"Ooo, traffic jam, got more cars than a beach got sand..."

Driving home today along the beltway, a mile and a half from my exit, I came to a standstill. Hundreds upon hundreds of cars were busily clogging the two right lanes of traffic. As is my way, I hopped over to the left to scope out a better place in line.

I thought, surely someone will let me back in at the last second. In my many months of budging since I moved to DC, I’ve only had to wait twice for the whole line of cars to pass by. There is almost always a kind soul ready to wave me in or at the very least, someone on their cell or a Mack truck slowing things down. What’s that you say? I’m a huge jerk? Au Contraire! In fact, I’m an impatient genius.

After traveling a mile watching all these cars backed up like sardines, I wondered if I might damage my almost perfect record. I ran through Plan B in my mind: skipping the exit altogether. But then…WAIT! What do I see a few car lengths from the final turn-off? Neatly pushed to the far right break down lane?

An ambulance….a banged-up car….and a stretcher.

All those cars were crawling by in single file to take in the scene, while I casually slipped in front, on my way down the exit ramp with PLENTY of room, leaving all those polite suckers in the dust.

I bet they cursed me as I drove by. Half an hour later, I bet they cursed all those rubber-neckers as they finally passed. They should really be cursing themselves for not being as smart as me, because I don’t feel the least bit guilty.

Budging Rocks.

This Really Isn't a Fat Joke

2006-03-26T20:50:00.000-08:00

I have this client. His brother is a surgeon. He says his brother complains every now and then after performing surgery on an obese patient. Apparently, he claims that everything gets greasy from the fat, and it can be difficult to work because the tools, gloves, aprons and table get slick and oily. I've never thought of that before, but it makes sense. Anyway, it's so gross I couldn't keep it to myself.

A Man and His Guitar

2006-03-17T23:46:00.001-08:00

The other night I got to experience Ben Lee live for the second time. It was a fabulous show and absolutely not my last. Something about the guy melts my heart like a Dreamsicle on a hot summer day.

As a talented youth, Ben recorded his first album at 15. Here are some of the lyrics to the first song he ever wrote - “My Guitar”:

And when I’m sick of hearing noise
I sit right down with one ’my favorite toys

Well my guitar is love
And my guitar’s all I need

And my guitar’s so special
Cause it plays the songs - not me
It’s my guitar

Give him a break, he was a kid when he wrote that. But, fortunately for him, his cheesy, uncomplicated lyrics are part of the old Ben Lee charm (and fortunately for him, I'm a sucker for it).

A man and his guitar (and sometimes a chick named Lara who does background vocals and plays 10 different instruments). Although I think we all know men require at least a few more essentials for survival, this charmer needs little else to fill a room with life. In fact, Ben is his best raw. Alone on stage, he and his guitar are charming, honest and engaging. His satisfaction with life is contagious. Whether sharing enthusiasm for the new trousers he’s wearing, celebrating his ongoing tour, or encouraging the crowd to sing his cheesiest lyrics back to him, Ben Lee is happy just to be Ben Lee. And wouldn’t you be, too, if you had such a cool name?

After the show, I eventually worked my way through the crowd to get this picture. I told him I would post the photo on my blog, thinking maybe he would ask for the web address. He didn’t. But who knows, if I put enough links on here, perhaps he could be reading it... right.... now!

(I heart you, Ben!)

The Deal Breaker

2006-03-13T20:00:00.001-08:00

I see a lot of naked bodies every day. I’m pretty tolerant of bodily functions of all kinds, so few things make me shudder. However, there is one that always sends tremors down my spine, and that is my biggest and grossest pet peeve: to come upon clammy feet and hands. I’m sorry for any of you that suffer from the inability to control or absorb the massive amounts of sweat flowing from your icy, soggy hands and feet (hereafter referred to as Clammy Hand and Foot Syndrome or "CHAFS"). I don’t hate you, I just hate how it feels. The experience of sliding around in someone else’s sweat is something I won’t go into detail about, even though I'm tempted to. While massaging my latest CHAFS inflicted client today, I thought seriously about going into explicit detail about how much I suffer.

Now it could’ve been fate, her über-Italian last name, or my keen ability to find irony, but for some reason as I began massaging this woman's feet, my thoughts wandered to a blog I recently read. This post about Italian-American culture made me think: “Hey, Italian-Americans sound pretty cool. I like to eat, I love my family, I’m not against chasing my husband around with a broom (was that one of the qualities?), and I don’t actually have to be in the mafia and get people whacked?! What a deal!”

Then sweaty feet suddenly brought me back to reality. "Eww," I thought, "I better dry girlfriend's feet off with this sheet for the third time. I wonder if she knows..."

“Sorry!” she suddenly interrupted, “I’m Italian, so when I’m hot my feet get sweaty.”

Hey, hold it there for one second, signora! Did you just say that sweaty feet are the side effect of a totally sweet Italian-American lifestyle? If so man, this deal is OFF. There’s no way I’m getting slammed with CHAFS.

Righting My Wrongs

2006-03-04T22:06:00.000-08:00

Correction: Regarding a recent post, The Blog Tag.

Regrettably, I misrepresented my favorite foods. Or my #1 favorite food. Ever. Shocking, you say? I myself can’t believe I forgot something I love so much. Rather than let it slide, I decided to give credit where credit is due. Taco Bell, Thank You.

Thank you for your scrumptiously orgasmic Nacho Supreme. You hit the spot every time, and I’m addicted to your crunchy salty dish of love. The way a baby needs its binky, that is how I desire you. Seasoned beef, warm nacho cheese sauce, cool sour cream, green onions & fresh tomatoes, all on a bed of crunchy tortilla chips. Ahhhh. Heaven in a paper box.

2006-03-03T21:24:00.000-08:00

WARNING:

Serious blog coming through!
Stop here if you were hoping for more underwear adventures or pictures of
Jäger’s dangerous bootie. Better luck next time!

In case you missed the memo, I co-teach a bunch of active 6 year olds every Sunday in primary. The kids are a handful, but I’m lucky to have a partner that I LOVE - she’s a lot of fun and the fact that she runs a daycare is really pretty convenient. She’s also from Liberia, so obviously, she’s black. WELL, last week one of the boys was acting nuts (as he often does; either he’s the sweetest kid ever-saying things that will melt your heart, or screaming he’s going to die if he doesn’t get a snack) and when I tried to send him to the other teacher he said this to me:

“No! I don’t like her! I like you because I only like white people!”

Wow.

Not trying to hide my shock, I reacted. I held the little boy in my lap, looked him in the eye, told him how horrible his comment was and explained how we’re all God’s children. I tried hard to make it clear he should never say something like that again. Needless to say, I wasn’t his favorite anymore and he went to cool off in the back.

I know this kid’s parents, they’re kind and loving and definitely not bigots, so I know he didn't learn any racism from them. However, this really made me think about where and how kids learn acceptance and tolerance - or vice versa. With so much prejudice still prevalent today, I feel the only way to make a difference is to teach children about diversity and tolerance when they’re young (and to get pissed at them when they make ignorant racist remarks). At the very least, parents need to take time to address these issues at home.

Nonetheless, the sad truth is that we all have the glorious gift of free agency and there will always be crazies in the world to pollute the minds of innocent children. It seems that all we can hope for is that as parents we don’t screw up our own.

The Blog Tag

2006-02-25T09:32:00.000-08:00

I guess I'm it.

Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:
Pizza Delivery Girl in a Bowling Alley
Dairy Queen
Manager at Polo
Massage Therapist

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over, and Have:
Babe: Pig in the City
Notting Hill
Night at the Roxbury
The Man Who Knew Too Little

Four Places I've Lived:
Monona, Wisconsin
Park City, Utah
Las Vegas, Nevada
Alexandria, Virginia

Shows I Love to Watch:
Lost
24
The Apprentice
Grey's Anatomy

Four Websites I Visit Daily (and more than once daily):
Gmail.com (Almost Daily)
Epicurious.com (If I'm cooking)
MyFamily.com (Sometimes)
Perhaps a blog or two... How DO you all find time??

Four Favorite Foods:
Cheese Fondue
Whipped Cream
French Fries
Chocolate

Four Places I Would Like to Visit:
Rome
New Zealand
Denmark
Thailand

Four places I'd rather be:
Tanning with a book on the French Riviera
Snuggly in Bed with my Boys
Getting a Massage
Accepting my $22 million in Powerball winnings

Four albums I can't live without:
Jack Johnson - ANY
Black Eyed Peas - Elephunk
Dashboard Confessional - ANY (he kept me alive on the loong drives to/from Vegas)
Ben Lee - Something to Remember Me By (he carried me through my teenage years)

Four People I am Tagging:
Shelly
TigerFoxBear
Gargantus
Marc

Honorable Mention Tag:
Vern

Jäger's Ass Meets Glass

2006-02-21T18:49:00.000-08:00

JÄGER’S ASS MEETS GLASS

**A re-enactment of actual events**
Starring: Jäger and the Glass That Never Knew What Hit It

Jäger, say hello to the glass.

Glass, say hello to Jäger's ass.

Glass, you've been decapitated.

You never knew what hit ya.

Men in Womens Clothing

2006-02-11T10:10:00.000-08:00

I fear I’ve reached a new low. I stalled taking a shower yesterday for a whole hour so I could watch Tyra Banks and guest hosts "Washed- Up- Supermodel- Now- Botoxed- to- the- Max- and- Struggling- to- Make- a- Comeback" Janice Dickinson and "Flaming- Techno- Drag- Diva (or Miva, can’t be too sure)" Kevin Aviance crown “America’s First Transexual Top Model.”

I flipped on the tv while stretching after taking a run - nothing like a dose of commercialism after a fulfilling frolic in nature - knowing I had to quickly shower so I could do my hair and get ready for a baby shower I was attending. Well, after several inward promises of "just 10 more minutes” I finally got to see the gender confused winner give his/her tearful speech on how great it was to finally feel validated and accepted. Slightly anti-climatic; I ended up a little confused myself. For this, I sacrificed my hair and make-up, but a bland face and ponytail would have to do. Kevin would be so disappointed.