Fashionista

Before we went out Friday night, I'd changed my clothes.  Oh, it wasn't anything special, but I did manage to get out of the t-shirt routine.

On our way to the Olive Garden, Audrey started her own version of  "Toddler  Eye/What Not to Wear" from her carseat.

"Mommy?  You look pretty."

"Thank you, Audrey."

"Ooooh, I like your earrings!  Pretty."  (big twisty hoops)

"I like your shirt."

Mr W interjects with "What do you want, Audrey?"  I roll my eyes at him.  Not-so-pretty.

"But, you know, Mommy, you would be prettier, if you wore a dressie.  No pants, dressie.  I know!  A skirt?"  She claps her hands in excitement.

I giggled and shook my head. 

Aaaahhh....think she's had a little too much "Project Runway."  Between that and the "totally new you makeover" in Max and Ruby's Beauty Shop, I'll be lucky if I don't wake up one day to orange hair and an aluminum foil toga.

So pretty.

But I'm 5 1/2 in dog years

It just dawned on me this morning that I think I made it through the entire weekend without cooking for anyone else.   With all these little mouths to feed, that is truly almost impossible. 

Birthday magic?  I think so.

My weekend-sans-kitchen duty started Friday.  The lovely Jane took me (and Audrey) out to lunch.   That evening, the family took me out. 

On Saturday, Mr W took care of dinner.  All day I was treated to various renditions of "Happy Birthday," one of which was Ryan's underwater version (don't tell anyone, but that was my favorite.)   I dodged the smack-Mom's-bottom-until-we-lose-count but forgot that Mr W is a stealthy one when he wants to be.  I would've thought he'd just let it pass, but noooo, he caught me; he had all those little helpers, and Audrey chanting, "My turn!  My turn!"  That little girl packs quite a wallop. 

Last night we had pizza at Nana's house. 

Initially, I was hoping to get some extra sleeping-in time (yeah, right)...but the kitchen pass does nicely too.  I'll take it.

I also was hoping to do the Sat Six on Sat, but I didn't get around to it.

I'll just blame it on the cake.

Saturday Six - Episode 123

1. Would you prefer being a small fish in a large pond or a large fish in a small pond?

I'm more a small-fish-large-pond girl anymore.  That large-fish deal is just too much trouble....been there.  Done that.

2. If you could change one thing about the climate where you live right now, what would it be and why?

Considering I have about another two months of heat, as we transition from surface-of-the-sun-hot to tolerably-not-burning-your-ass-on-the-carseat-hot, I'd have to say it would be nice to have a cool day thrown in here just for a change of pace.  But I can't complain, overall.  It's a dry heat.  Ha!

3. Do you consider yourself more or less normal than those around you?

What?  What I consider myself to be is "as normal as" those around me.  On any given day, I could be better or I could be worse...some days I'm Plankton (megalomaniac), some days I'm Spongebob (dorky, means well), other days, I'm Patrick(drooling, incoherent, occasional flash of insight).  LOL

4. Take the quiz: Are you right or left brained?

I am left-handed.  Once, I had the cheesy misfortune of someone trying to flirt with me using the "lefties are in their right minds" line.   Smooooth.  As Velveeta.

Anyway, I have to agree with my quiz results.  Mainly because it's true, what they say, about being left-handed in a right-handed world--parts of you can't help but become ambidextrous.  The results:

You Are50% Left Brained, 50% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

5. Consider the last meal you ate: was the primary course beef, chicken, fish or vegetables? How often is this your primary course?

Pizza doesn't count here.  Beef.  Mmmm.  Fairly often.  I tend to eat more chicken.

6. Should men who belong to a religion which permits it be allowed to have more than one wife? In other words, should polygamy be legal on religious grounds?

In this day and age, what's the point?  You are more than likely going to be able to produce progeny with just one wife.  You aren't working acres and acres of land where you might need 20 kids toiling away for you.  Even if you were really a glutton for punishment, would you really want to deal with the demands of family, times 3 or 4 families?  That's not even taking into consideration the demands of 3 or 4 women...why would a man put himself, willingly, through that? 

Faces a Mommy can love

I was over at Laura's j, and she had an entry about photographing kids.   So I decided to follow along and post a few pics of my kids.  It's been a while since I've posted any. 

As I look at Nolan in the pictures, I realize he's changed a lot in the last few months, so I may have to sneakily get a couple of new photos of him.  Sneakily.  Because he's not gonna like it at all.

I learned to always have film in my camera while they were young.  My pediatrician, once I was on the third kid, used to jokingly tell me as I left the office, "take lots of pictures!" and for that I am grateful.  As a result of that comment, I am pretty sure that I've avoided the syndrome where you only have picts of the oldest/second oldest and none of the rest. 

Now that I have a digital camera, I just keep it charged and take it along with me from time to time.  It's got a great zoom lens, so I'm trying to remember to take some from a distance, because it's nice to have photos that aren't so posed.  You know how it is---now that they're older, they ham it up whenever they hear me turn on the camera.  And there are only so many bunny-ears-on-my-brother pics I'm willing to take.

Lest anyone think that I'm that organized, let me just add that while I have some scrapbooked, some in albums, there is a lot of them, mainly from *gasp* the last four years (since Audrey's been born) that are languishing away in their packets.  I'll get to them.  I have to.  Mr W can't tell baby picture from baby picture.  Such a man.  lol

Anyway, the second picture of the kids, with Audrey and Ryan encroaching on Nolan's game space, has a picture of Audrey's latest favorite, her llama.  I got it for her a while ago, when I bought this book for her called "Llamas in Pajamas."  As we also have the book, "Is your Mama a llama?" I thought it would be cute to have one for story time.  Besides, on Jimmy Neutron, one of the characters, Carl, is also obsessed with all things llama.  (Now there's proof I need to get out more.)

Anyway, I love it that she doesn't just call him her llama, but refers to it as her 'llama-in-pajamas' all the time. 

I couldn't resist taking Audrey's picture in front of my flowering shrubs.   The flowers are purple (my favorite color) and with all the rain we've had recently, appeared like magic.  I took those pictures last week, and sadly, the flowers only made it through to the other night, when the wind and impending storm just swept them away.  They'll be back. 

Speaking of coming back....

Mr W is due home this evening, and none to soon.  I've reached my limit, I miss him quite a bit. 

The kids do too, Audrey especially.  She likes to meet him for lunch, and we haven't been able to these last few days.  When we were talking to him last night, she told him: "You done.  You need to come home, right now." 

Although Audrey and I made the hot fudge sauce yesterday, I were so busy last night with baths and Nolan's homework, we didn't get to put it to the test.

So Mr W might get a treat tonight, too.

(That sounds bad, doesn't it?)

Peace and quiet

There isn't turn down service here.  No mint on my pillow, unless you count the five M & M's Audrey shared with me.

The chef is quite talented, and dinner was first rate.  Dessert was greeted with high fives although a chocolate volcano erupted in the microwave.  (Who knew hot fudge, overheated in the micro, would still taste a little burnt? Oops...)

We had a nice evening, and I was glad I stayed home. 

Tonight, it's the chef's night off.  And we're trying our hands at homemade hot fudge sauce.

I'll keep the fire extinguisher close by.

Whaaa? Wait a minute, here

Mr W announced to me a while back, "Oh, I'm going out of town for a few days in August; there's a conference in Tucson I'm getting sent too."

Whatever, I thought, a few days, not too far away, no big deal. 

Okay, so I'm a little jealous that he can come home and just say these things, and not worry that he'll have to arrange anything other than his suitcase, if that, but whatever.  Work is work, right?

I didn't even pay attention, really, to where he was staying until he called last night to tell me his details. 

I'm a lot jealous.  It's posh, swank, it's one of the better known resorts in these parts, in national magazines, stars stay there, the works.

"What?  You're staying WHERE?  What happened to economy, what happened to Holiday Inn?  Wait a minute, last year, you go to San Francisco, one of my favorite places; now you're at a resort; I'm here, with the four children, and all that entails, I smell like ass, and I think the cat just threw up, and you're in the lap of luxury?  Isn't it time for your manicure or something?" 

I spare him the chance to pull the "I-buy-you-cool-presents" card. 

"It's a good thing you did get me the laptop, or I might have to drive down there and hurt  you." 
I think he may have felt an ounce of guilt.  At least until his head hit the five-star pillows.

This morning, I'm up early, I get to shower uninterrupted and I get the kids up for school.  I'm in the zone, the kids are cooperating, and then...

*Ryan spills an entire glass of milk.

*I step in a hairball/cat puke combo.  Barefooted.

*The dogs eat all the cat food, which means I have to go get some more, and I was just at PetsMart yesterday.

And here is the capper:

My darling husband calls and asks me to come down.  "What?"  "The other guys have called their wives; they're coming."  "And the kids?"  "No, leave them at your Mom's."  "School?" "They can miss a day."  "They're missing enough this week (dr appts) and will probably miss a day next week when we go to that concert on Tues night."  "Come on."

I'm mentally tallying all the things I'd have to take care of before I can go.  It's a list that is very "You can go to the ball, Cinderella, if only you can get these things done first...." 

"I'm sorry, honey, I don't think I can pull it off." 

"I offered."

He's persistent, with a text message here and there.  I'm getting annoyed.  It's a generous, very sweet offer, for sure.  But on a moment's notice, because he got a wild hair up his butt, I'm supposed to procure childcare and animal care; pack up the kids stuff, my stuff, the animal's stuff, and just jet on down for tonight and tomorrow?  On limited funds?  Just because?

I want to kill him.  Why didn't he think of this last week, when I could have arranged things?

Maybe I'm the one who's being unreasonable here.

I'll just do the Six, and catch my breath. 

Before I call my Mom.  And beg like a 16 year old wanting to borrow the car.   (I made the mistake of looking up the spa menu.  T-o-r-t-u-r-e.  And call me naive, but why exactly offer "breast surgery massage"?  If you have breast surgery, I'd think you'd not have a hard time finding someone willing to massage them for free.  Am I right?)

Saturday Six - Episode 122

1. Has your blog received more comments, less comments, or about the same number of comments this summer?

Less.

2. What do you think best explains your answer from the last question?

I wrote less.  And people are busy in the summer.  At least I hope that's it...

3. With the latest terror alert about liquid bombs on airplanes, are you any less likely to schedule a flight somewhere?

I can't get away for an overnight two hours away from my house and I'd be traveling by car, and I'm supposed to think about flying somewhere?  No.  Yes.  Who's paying, and are my kids coming too?  (which means, right now, I can't answer this)

4. Take the quiz: What color flower are you?

I'm a blue flower.  I took it more than once, and changed a couple of answers I was wavering on, and still.  True blue me, I guess.  But cold?  Anyone believe that?

A blue flower tends to represent peace, openness, and balance.
At times, you are very delicate like a cornflower.
And at other times, you are wise like an iris.
And more than you wish, you're a little cold, like a blue hydrangea.

5. What was the last occasion in which you sent someone flowers?

I sent some to a colleague of Mr W's whose sister had died.

6. A hypothetical science question: A couple has a young child that they love very much. He has a rare genetic disorder that will be fatal unless doctors can use embryonic stem cells, and the only way to get them is for his parents to donate eggs and sperm so that a lab can create another embryo. Should the parents and the doctors be allowed to create an embryo to save the child's life?

Hypothetical science questions are what tend to cause trouble because they always get heated, blown out of proportion, and tainted with sentiment until 'hypothetical' becomes a segment on 60 Minutes.  Everyone wants to be right.   Sure, this ? is hypothetical in that the lab would create an embryo, but it's already been done.  Call me jaded, but I'm sure many babies have been conceived and born in hopes that they are a tissue match for an ill sibling.  Got bone marrow?