Cords and Fleece

  Here’s the conversation I overheard this morning as I selected the girls’ clothes... Elizabeth : What do they have at Legoland? I don’t answer because I’m thinking the girls can figure this one out on their own. Samantha : I know! They have Legos that you can play with. Elizabeth : Yea! And you can buy Legos there, too. Samantha : No you can’t. People already have Legos. Elizabeth : But people can buy them at Legoland, too. Samantha : No, people already have Legos! Everybody has Legos, so they don’t have to buy them. Yes, that’s right. When the stork delivers the babies, they come with Huggies, burp cloths, and a box of Legos. Elizabeth : No! Not everyone has Legos. Samantha : Yes they DO! Elizabeth : Strangers don’t. They don’t have Legos so they have to buy them. Samantha : THERE ARE NO STRANGERS! EVERYBODY HAS LEGOS! Elizabeth : That’s because you don’t know China . And that settled it. See, I told you they could figure it out on their own. I hope you’ll join me in donating yo...

  “What about the goody bags?” That’s Michael. He’s disappointed because I didn’t mention my goody bag debacle in The Big 5.0 . All I can say it that we all know I don’t have a good history with goody bags, so what happened is probably just bad karma for dissing them in the past . On Monday, Elizabeth celebrated her birthday at school. They do a nice job for birthdays. Elizabeth made a list of 8 friends to sit with her at the festive birthday table. One by one Elizabeth called out the names of her friends and one by one they ran up to her, a la The Price is Right, hugged her, and ran to the table. Eventually, all the children were seated and the singing and cupcake-eating ensued. (I won’t go into how awful it must be for the kids who never get picked. Let’s just say I feel their pain...) After eating, Elizabeth called out each child’s name (every kid in the class -- not just the privileged eight) and handed them their goody bags. There was more hugging and the occasional peck on th...

“I’m so happy that today is my birthday!” As I slept, a wide-eyed Elizabeth marched into our bedroom, stood next to me, and announced those words loudly on Saturday morning. Elizabeth had three birthday parties this past week -- two at home and one at school. I realize this establishes an expectation of endless super-party-fantasticness that her future boyfriend will never hope to match, but that’s his problem. She also had a Preschool Graduation Party last Thursday and has been practicing this song all week for their graduation presentation: So long, it’s been good to know ya. So long, it's been good to know ya. So long, it's been good to know ya. Glad you could come! Adios and Goodbye! (sigh) Yes, it's a time of great change and celebration. Needless to say, we’re pretty partied out. However, birthday party No. 1 -- the BIG Party -- was on Saturday, and with her joyful morning proclamation, the horns officially sounded and the birthday festivities began. Well, not really...

“Elizabeth, you have to take your medicine.” Elizabeth storms from the kitchen. I don’t blame her, really. Cough medicine is the worst. In her bedroom I find her furiously scribbling a note. She holds it up to me while making an angry face. HAT MOMY is written above a heart drawn on a heart-shaped card she cut out of printer paper. I read the card out loud. “You hat me?” I ask. “It’s not hat it’s HATE !” she corrects me. I have to admit, it was a low-blow on my part because I already knew it was “hate.” Now she feels bad for being angry, for being misunderstood, and for misspelling a word. Yea, definitely a low-blow -- caused by a momentary lapse of confidence precipitated by the word HAT . “Oh,” I say. “Well, at least you wrote it on a heart card. So you must not hat me too much,” I tease and smile hopefully. Elizabeth scowls, but doesn’t deny it. I resist the urge to taunt her by singing You love me, you love me! Instead, I promise all sorts of chocolate goodies to eradicate the...

  This video makes me want to run out and get pregnant. Not only are these kids adorable, but they kick serious heavy metal ass: Notice the location? Yes, that’s a bunk bed -- perfect. All I can say is, this video makes me happy. In fact, I may start a list of “videos that make me happy” and this will be number 1 on the list. It makes me want to procreate like crazy and fill our house with electric guitars and drums. Rock on, gauchos!  

  The Bookdiva has me thinking about Fantasy Camp . In her blog, she revealed 10 places she would like to visit while learning something new -- Flamenco lessons in Spain, Italian in Italy, etc. I followed her inspiration and came up with fantasies of my own. But mine are surprisingly homespun -- most of them don’t take me anywhere -- and some of them are actually doable with the right mix of luck and cojones. On that note, consider yourself “tagged” and dream up your own fantasies. We’re not talking fantasies like “world peace” or “I want to fly.” We’re talking fantasies that could actually, possibly -- with a lot of money, luck and inspiration -- come to life. The kind of fantasies that hurt a little bit because some of them could possibly come true if only we were a little bit braver . I only came up with seven because: a) That’s as far as the inspiration took me. b) I’ve run out of time and have to: work / wash dishes / change a diaper / wash the clothes / vacuum / cook dinner...

  First, I don’t write for a while because I’ve been kind of uninspired -- wanting to live more and reflect less, if you know what I mean. Next, I put up a short dialogue between my girls about poop and haircuts. Sweet. Now, just to keep you on your toes, I’d like to “take it down” for a moment. That’s right. Turn down the house lights, hand me the microphone, and give me a minute to perch myself atop this barstool. Because I’d like to have a little talk about Love, people. That’s right. Love. On Thursday, California’s Supreme Court ruled in favor of Marriage . Yay! I know -- you probably thought that people could already get married. Hey, probably most of you reading this now are either married, plan to marry in the future, know someone who’s married, or (ahem) have a “married” person in your family. And for the most part, it’s pretty nice, isn’t it? In your standard decent marriage, you look out for each other. You have shared experiences. You turn to each other and laugh at the ...