The post that I started when I got back from NY, but then got sidetracked and forgot that I had started it until I just now found it.

My plane landed at 1am this morning. It was delayed because there was a light, rainy mist happening in New York, and apparently, that's a totally horrible thing, and all flights must be delayed. Meanwhile, at Houston Intercontinental, they're throwing planes out into a hurricane, "Look at that windshear! Woooo doggy! You don't even need that thar runway!"

The pilot also decided to take the longest route home to Texas. It took us 3 hours to get to NY, and 4 hours to get home. I don't understand what his realm of thinking was. Perhaps something to the effect of, "Let's see...the plane's already over an hour late leaving, it's rainy--bound to be some turbulence, the inflight movie sucks...I got it! Let's keep 'em on the plane as long as possible!" If this is payback for the flight-attendant joke I made a few years ago, I'm sorry. It's just, that, I don't think he MINDED being called a "stewardess." And I had a feeling that I might have gone too far with the panty-line comment. Again, I'm sorry.

Anyways, about 1/2 way through the FOUR HOUR FLIGHT, my leg started getting restless. No, not both of them, just one. My right leg. Seriously, that has to be the most annoying thing in the world. I have no leg room, and it's impossible to stretch when you're in the middle seat. By the time we landed, I was about to saw the damn thing off with a coffee stirrer--compliments of Continental. But I'm sure that if I would have sawed off my leg and carried it out, I would have been busted for having one too many carry-ons.

My New York trip was awesome--just what I needed--a little vacation and some time with my mom and sister. I NEVER get mom+sister time anymore, and let me tell you--I totally miss it. I'm so glad they talked me into going, because I needed that time to rebuild. You would think, with the three of us crazies there, that we would have painted the town red. Nope, not so much. I went to work with my sister on Friday, wherein I did such crazy things as make labels! and clean the storage room! Saturday, we shopped in Brooklyn (all damn day), ate at a kickass place called, "Pegasus" (where I ate entirely too much, but alas, was able to impress all the locals with my impressive breakfast-eating abilities), and then later, got sushi. But not before I was able to take some awesome pictures with my trusty 'ole camera. I'll have to post some later. That night, rather than going out and partying, we went grocery shopping, then watched movies. I told you---CRAZY. We DID try to make this blue-raspberrytini thing, but it ended up looking like that "1000 flushes blue" stuff that you put in your toilet, and tasted like rat poison. But I digress.

2 thumbs up

Look! Look! I can take off my do-rag, wear makeup, and pretend to be exotic! Here I am: The Exotic Mom. Don'tcha love photoshop?



I'm sure, however, that there must be a My Little Pony or at least a dried-up Spaghettio somewhere in that picture...

New York Religion

In Texas, there is a pretty wide-range of religions. There are Baptists, then there are Korean-Baptists, then the Chinese-Baptists, and the Southern-Baptists. It's all very diverse. With all these churches, comes the sign out front. And with the sign, is usually the topic of this Sunday's sermon, or "message." You know, the "message"...things such as, "Living your best life with the Lord," or "Do you know Jesus?" or "What Would Jesus Do for Dinner?"

New York has diverse religions, too--at least in Brooklyn, because in Brooklyn, you have Catholics and Lutherans. It's crazy insane. And the churches in New York all have their church signs, too, and they even have messages! Messages! On the church signs! Good messages, like, "The Problem with Meat." OH yes.

Exhibit A:



I mean, it was a Lutheran church, so if it was, "The Problem with Catholics," I'd understand. But MEAT? Do Lutherans have that much of an issue with meat, that they have to have an entire SERMON on it? A sermon on the "problem" with meat. How, exactly, is this meat problematic for the Lutherans? Really, enquiring minds want to know. I just may attend Lutheran church on Sunday, just to find out if meat really is a problem.

Maybe it's just a "Vegan Lutheran" church.

Friday Haiku

I'm in NYC.
I am freezing my ass off.
It's too cold for me.

Missing something

Your Personality Is

Idealist (NF) You are a passionate, caring, and unique person. You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals. You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily. Your heart tends to rule you. You can't make decisions without considering feelings. You seek out other empathetic people to befriend. Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships. In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily. At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career. With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone. As far as your looks go, you've likely taken the time to develop your own personal style. On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours.

The Three Question Personality Test

*Funny, it doesn't mention anything about being a sarcastic bitch. Hmmmm...

The PC term is, "Vertically Challenged"

Okay, the stats are in, and the consensus is: My children are midgets. I'm sure that's not pc, but if I call my chicks midgets, they don't seem to care, so I'm going with it.

This evening, my neighbor and her kids came over for "breakfast for dinner." At one point, this was going to be a weekly thing, but then I got a boyfriend and she went and had a baby. Jeesh. Like it's not hard enough flipping pancakes with a new boyfriend in the picture, she had to go and add a whole 'nother kid to the mix. The nerve. Anyways, it was "breakfast for dinner" at my house. The moms start cooking, and the kids start screaming, because really, that's what they do. We're in the kitchen burning pancakes and flinging bacon grease in our eyes, and the kids are in the playroom beating the hell out of each other. It's quite the normal situation. Just louder. And more entertaining. Yea, that's it. So, there's bacon grease in my eye and on my friend's lip and thumb, and the kids are screaming and the eggs are smoking and the pancakes are burning. It's pretty much like a kegger, but instead of beer, there is milk; and instead of a keg, there's a plethora of sippy cups. "Soccer Mom Kegger 2006! Woooooo!!!"

I have no idea where I was going with this, so I'll just revert back to the title of this post, and go with that. My kids are small. Actually, Jenna's pretty much caught up to her peers and is simply described as "petite." Clairey, on the other hand, still looks funny when she runs because she's just SO SMALL. It's generally not too apparent to me, I mean, I'm a smallish-type person, so I expect my chicks to be of the "smallish type." When it becomes extremely apparent how small they are, however, is when you stand 'em right next to my friend's little girl, Loo. Now, I have to explain: My kids are small, her kids are so-not-small-because-they-come-from-stock-that-usually-eats-people-of-my-stature. Loo's daddy was a college football player, and her mommy was a college rower (that can't be the correct term for that...). They are both tall, built, and could kick your ass. Yeah, YOUR ass--I'm talking to you. Anyways, these people make large children. Case in point: Their 4-month old is the size of your average 9-month old. I'm not kidding. He's already being scouted by NFL teams.

So, this evening, simply for the joy of taking pictures of our kids so we could poke fun at them, I present to you, "Study in Height."



The kids, from left to right, are: Clairey (2), Loo (3), and Jenna (4). The age difference between Clairey and Loo is TEN MONTHS.

Good things come in small packages. Just remember that.

Friday Haiku

Dear Client

Another meeting.
We know you don't do jack shit.
You're not fooling us.

Overheard

"I'm going to take off my clothes and do ballet!"

Wherever are people going to tuck their singles?

Mac & Cheese: The Neglected Main Course

I'm a follower of the "Mac is Main" party--a grassroots effort to prove that Macaroni and Cheese is, indeed, a main course and not a side dish. I believe that the only people who treat mac and cheese as a side are Texans (maybe other Southerners?) and the people who work at Luby's. It's noodles. It's cheese. It's no different than spaghetti. I stand firm in my belief!

She can work it

"Mom. Water." (sliding her cup towards me)

"Ummm...I don't think so." (sliding her cup back)

"Hello? I want water."

"Hello? You can get up and get it."

"But mom, you're the boss. YOU'RE supposed to get my water."

I'm such a sucker.

I don't use sidewalks

Last night, as we were taking a walk with the neighbor, Jenna was complaining because her wagon was being pulled on the sidewalk, and I was pulling Clairey's wagon in the street. To explain to Jenna why I was in the street, I simply stated, "Mommy doesn't follow the rules--I'm a 'streetwalker'."

Nicely stated. NICELY stated.

Today's Meme

Four jobs I have had in my life:

Nanny
Jewelry salesperson
Pre-K teacher
Editor

Four Movies I could watch over and over:

The Princess Bride
Army of Darkness
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Pride and Prejudice (the BBC version)

Four places I have lived:

Royal Oak, MI
Sterling Heights, MI
Kingwood, TX
Spring, TX

Four TV shows I love to watch:

Um...I really don't watch tv

Four Places I have been on vacation:

Germany
Austria
Cabo San Lucas
Acapulco

Four websites I visit daily:

Countless Blogs
Houston Chronicle
a BB that I've belonged to for 5 years
....

Four of my favorite foods:

Salad. I love lettuce.
7-layer cookies (does that count as food?)
artichokes
bagels

Four places I'd rather be:

In my bed, sleeping
At the movies
Outside, reading
Cozumel

Four CD's I can't live without:

My "Mommy Mix"
and 3 others that, if I don't have them, all hell breaks lose in my car and the chicks threaten to jump out:
Kelly Clarkson
Beastie Boys
Laurie Berkner

Good point

Never explain--your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway. - Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)

Conversations with Clairey

Setting: Mommy and Clairey, sitting in the armchair, watching 'Dora'.

Clairey: (holding up a Strawberry Shortcake pony) "Wass dis ponie stmell like?"
Mommy: "Ummm..." *sniff, sniff* "I'm not sure...I think green apples."
Clairey: "Geen appohss?"
Mommy: "Yeah, I think so."

(Claire takes the pony and bends it's legs back, then sniffs the pony again.)

Clairey: "Mommy! Stmell, stmell!!"
Mommy: *sniff, sniff* "Yep, green apples."
Clairey: "See? Pony's *peachie stmells like geen appohss, too!"

*insert "your" word for a girls private part.

This kid is trying to kill me.

Sunday at our house

Somehow, Clairey's finger "accidentally" went up Jenna's nose. The finger up the nose resulted in a gi-normous bloody nose on Jenna's part, which, amazingly enough, happened with no screaming. Indeed, today was a holy day.

Did ya miss it?

It's back, people!! The "Friday Haiku!"

Petroleum Jelly

My hands are so dry.
I put Vaseline on them.
Now they feel greasy.

Crusty Cat Boogers

Cat, what's in your eye?
It's a crusty cat-booger?
That's so disgusting.

Friends

There are so many different kinds of friends: There is your best friend, whom you see (or at least talk to), nearly every day--this is the friend that buys you diapers, then delivers them to your house, because only SHE knows exactly how low you are on diapers when you say, "I'm low on diapers"; there is the best friend whom you don't see every day, but have an uninterruptible connection with--the one whom you "catch up with" over coffee and just want to sit on her couch all day, because her friendship feels so comfy; there is the "forever" friend whom you haven't seen in years--maybe you've talked on the phone a couple months ago, maybe you email semi-often, however, this friend will always be your friend, no matter what.

I count myself lucky to have all of these friends.

Thanks for the diaper delivery.

Thanks for the couch and coffee.

Thanks for the email and nice words.

You're all so important to me.

I forgot the most important friend--the sister. The sister who won't change a poopy diaper, drinks all your coffee, then calls you a 'bitch' but you gotta love her because she's blood.

Wow, this post was almost all serious.

"Why I only have two" or "If I have another, I will surely end up admitted"

Last Saturday, I believe it was (see how I've already tried to erase the memory?), I had the very unwise idea to go with my friend to Sam's Club. Not only was it unwise because of the copious amount of money I can spend on Cheeze-It's in bulk, but because we have 4 children between the ages of 4 months and 4 years. Getting there wasn't the hard part--she has a mini van, I have a mini cooper. She just flipped down her backseats, and I pulled in. Damn, those automatic doors are nice!

Anyways, we get to the warehouse, and I'm all ready to save loads of money by buying in bulk, which is a smart thing to do these days, because my boyfriend's two little boys are very much like shrews--they eat 12 times their own body weight per day. I know little boys need food to grow, but sweet baby Jesus, what kind of person can eat 3 pounds of animal crackers in one day?! It's fascinating, more than anything. The little one shows me his belly, so I can witness the success of his caloric intake; and the big one must burn it off as quickly as he eats it, because he's a skinny thing. But he does run fast--it must be those animal crackers and the they-turn-your-tongue-green Cheetos. But I digress...

So my friend and I load up the kids in these nifty, double-seated shopping carts, and steer our way into the mecca of bulk-food buying. We have the 3 year-old and 4-year old in one cart, and the 2 year-old and 4-month old in the other cart (2-year old's in the back, and the baby's in his seat in the front). This all works out fine and dandy--for about 5 minutes. Then the little one wants to ride in the other cart. Then the older two want to walk. So we play cart-switch with the little one, and take the older two out of the cart. Chaos ensues. They like to hold hands and run. Pretty soon, they're dodging other shoppers, and elderly people handing out samples of bagel bites. Between my friend and I, there's the constant warning of, "Girls! Slow down!" "Girls! Stay by the mommies!" and "Girls! Watch out!" It's really a good show, and several people are eyeing us. While the girls are holding hands and charming the other shoppers with their hijinks, my friend and I are loading our carts with oatmeal cream pies the size of my head, and cheesecake. I didn't say it was a healthfood store, people. Who wants to buy healthy fare in bulk? Not I. Bring on the Little Debbie snackcakes.

We finally make it to the checkout line, where we both find out that we spent way more than we planned to, but since we were "buying in bulk" and there were "so many good deals," we talked ourselves into thinking that we were amazing shoppers and had just saved the entire country's financial woes by the money we spent. We're both very persuasive. So, being the smart women we are, when the kids started getting rowdy, we decided that I would take them out to the car. Again, that's a 4-year old, a 3-year old, a 2-year old, and a 4-month old. I'm not sure at which point in the shopping extravaganza that we were secretly injected with crack, but surely, we had to have been. I stroll out of the store--the two oldest holding hands, walking on my right; the toddler, holding onto my pants, walking on my left; and the baby, in his carrier, on the basket seat.

It was all going really well, and then we got outside. Where there were cars, and people, and bright lights and noise, and all the other things that distract kids from listening to the boss. Pretty soon, I was trying to corral the older two by fervently yelling at them to "hang on to the cart!", keeping the little one close by, by holding out my left leg and hooking her in with my foot; hopping on my right leg, pushing the cart, and preventing the baby from tipping out of the shopping cart with my right arm. Have you ever seen one of those street performers than can play 15 instruments at once? Yes, it was much like that, but without the cymbals or the harmonica. My friend exited the store just in time to see me nearly get run over by a Suburban, in which the driver had failed to check the rear-view mirror; and to which I ignored the man in the truck, flailing his arms and telling me to stop--assuming he was just waving at the kids. Come to find out, he was trying to flag me down to tell me to stop because of the impending flattening of me and the orphanage that I was trying to keep under control.

My friend met up with me, and we tried to group the kids together--which didn't work as we had planned. Thankfully, a grandma was walking by, took pity on us, and commandeered my shopping cart, allowing me to arrest the toddler and carry her, football style, across the parking lot. Meanwhile, my friend and I are yelling to each other over parked cars, "NO MORE! THIS is why I stopped at two!"

Urinal Stance

Apparently, there is the "Superman" and the "Urinal Hugger." Nice.

Robert Mondavi...can I marry you?

1 ENORMOUS bottle of white wine, 1 regular bottle of red, 3 people, 2 kids and a spread on the "My Little Pony" market= a damn good time.