Song lyrics gone wrong

The diva has been singing this all day

"This is me, this is me, this is me with my allergies!" She kept singing it and I asked her where the song was from. She said it was a Laurie Berkner song. I thought it was strange that it was a happy song about allergies, but hey allergies sure plague this house, so maybe we need a peppy upbeat song to learn how to cope better with our allergies. But no, I checked the lyrics, and folks it is a song about ENERGY. The song is called "My Energy", not "My allergies". I don't have the heart to break it to the Diva. Maybe I will help her add some verses about dust mites and pollen.

One more day till Christmas- Should I be naughty or nice?

She's feeling a lot better today! Thank goodness!

Doctor's Office and Emergency Room in the same day

My poor poor Diva. She is all kinds of sick. Saturday I noticed she was sneezy and getting a cough. This always puts me on high alert because of her asthma. A little cold is no little cold for the Diva. Ever. She seemed to be in pretty good spirits and we had tickets to the Nutcracker, so we went. She had a fabulous time. But, by 7 p.m she was burning up with a temp of 102.9. I gave her meds and watched her like a hawk all night, her cough was horrendous, and we were doing her neb treatments every four hours. Sunday (yesterday) was worse. Fever down, but cough was still pretty intense. So we kept up the meds on all fronts. Throughout all this Diva had no appetite at all. Today Daddy-O stayed home with her and we had a doctor visit. On top of her asthma issues, the poor baby has a double ear infection. Funny thing though, the doctor said the ear infection seemed to be taking care of itself. Diva was in pretty good spirits at the Dr's office, and was fine at home, but coughing a little bit. Then suddenly she had the worst asthma attack I have ever seen her have. It was terrifying. She was smack in between neb treatments, so I wasn't sure what to do. Her breathing was insanely rapid, she was choking, wheezing and gasping for breath. I can't even write this without getting emotional about it. We rushed out the door to the emergency room. They administered more albuterol, and told us we were right to bring her to the ER. Her oxygen levels were back in a safe zone, so they let us bring her home. She still has a low grade temp, and now we are on Pneumonia watch. If the temp remains for the next 48 hours, back to the Dr. we have to go. She is now sleeping somewhat soundly in her bed. I grew up with asthma but I don't remember it being as scary to me as it is to watch my sweet baby girl struggling to breath. Thank You God, for looking out for our girl. Ugh, can't write anymore.

A book review from The Diva

One of The Diva's favorite books recently has been Llama Llama Mad at Mama by Anna Dewdney. I just found out that the author lives here in VT, which the Diva and I both find to be super cool. Diva doesn't own this book yet, but we have been checking it out of the library frequently. I decided that since I did a random book review, that Diva should too, so I interviewed her this afternoon. The book is about a little llama who goes on a shopping trip with his mama. As indicated by the title of the book, Llama is not so keen on the whole thing.

Me: Diva, what do you think of the book Llama Llama Mad at Mama?
Diva: I like it.
Me: Why do you like it?
Diva: Because it's good.
Me: How does the book make you feel?
Diva: Good.
Me: What's your favorite part of the book?
Diva: When Llama makes a mess of the shopping cart. (Please note that her favorite part of the book is a GIANT TANTRUM).
Me: Do you think other people should read this book?
Diva: NO!
Me: Why not?
Diva: Because I want to read it!

End of interview.

Random Book Review

How Disappointing. I just finished Love the One You're With by Emily Giffin. I read her other two books, and enjoyed them. They were quick reads. I was anticipating this last book of hers, thinking it would be just as great as the 0ther two. Another little nugget that added to my anxiousness to get my hands on the book was the fact that it was constantly checked out of the library. So when I saw it on the shelf I squealed in delight. (Not really, but it makes for a better story.) I read the book Sunday evening and finished it yesterday. Eh. Blah. Not so great. Predictable. Frustrating. Still a quick read, not the worst thing I ever read, but it just wasn't what I had hyped it up to be.

Not quite getting the knock knock joke

Diva: Knock Knock!
Me: Who's there?
Diva: It's me! Diva!!! (Errupts in hysterical laughter)

I tried teaching her a real knock knock joke. She still thinks hers is funnier.

Conversation with a middle schooler

Student: Mrs. R, do you like my new haircut?
Me: Yes Student, I love your new haircut!
Student: The bartender cut it!
Me: The bartender cut it?
Student: Wait, no. I can't think of the right word. Not a bartender.
Me: Was it a barber?
Student: Yeah, that's it. The barber cut my hair.

Repetition

A phrase I thought I wouldn't use much:
"Diva you need pants."

I can not tell you how many times this phrase is actually useful. But it, is a lot.

Compliments

When the Diva was teeny tiny, I was constantly saying things like " you're so pretty", "you're so beautiful". My mom. ever the feminist, told me I should compliment not only her looks but her intelligence and personality as well. So I started saying things like "Oh Diva, you are so beautiful.... and smart." Well folks, the lesson I keep learning over and over again is that she is really paying attention.
A few days ago we were getting ready to go somewhere and the Diva and I were both in the bathroom. I was looking in the mirror and I said "Ugh, I look so crumby". Diva said, "Mom what does crumby mean?" I said, "well crumby means yucky Diva." To which she replied, "Mommy, you are not crumby. You are beautiful. And smart." I will cherish these ego boosters now while she still likes me. In about ten years or so I will make her read this to remind her that she once was my biggest fan.

She's got style

The Diva told me she was going to change. I decided to let it play out. She just came out to me wearing NOTHING but a pair of my snowman socks pulled up to her knees. What a sight. I think I will go assist with the wardrobe change.

Dear Grocery Bagger

I bet you are trying to be helpful and efficient when you load my groceries into an empty cart, instead of my own. It might even be store policy for all I know. But when I have a not quite 3 year old in my cart, loaded down in her winter gear, it is not convenient to have to lug said toddler out of the cart so that we can leave with the cart you have appointed us. My life would have been just a tad bit easier had I not had to make the child transfer until I got to my car. I get a little nervous juggling a cart and walking with my daughter across a dark parking lot where people drive like it's the Indy 500. Also, I am a fan of the environment, and while I don want to use a ton of plastic bags, when you don't give me bags for my water and milk it makes it quite the pain in the butt to try to lug all of my groceries and the aforementioned child up into my 2nd floor apartment. Those two extra bags would have saved us a trip back to the car, and I promise I would have reused those bags over and over and over again. I would like to say thank you though, for your service, and for not stealing my grapes. Have a lovely day.

Middle School Dance

Last night I had the pleasure of chaperoning the school dance. And I do mean pleasure. It was so very entertaining. It brought back so many memories, made me feel old, and gave me a whole new outlook on the students I teach everyday. It allowed me to see them in a whole different light. I must say that last night I found middle schoolers to be more adorable than kindergartners. I got the fun job of manning the crowd that had arrived before it was time for the dance to begin. There was so much energy, and I got to observe some really interesting wardrobe choices. There were several young ladies in denim mini skirts; not exactly appropriate attire for standing outside in 20 degree weather. There appears to be a trend of really tiny (barely butt-covering) ruffled skirts worn over leggings. There was crew of girls in jeans and tiny tank tops, and another groups of girls in skirts and ties. Oh how fashion has changed since my middle school years of tight-rolled, stone-washed jeans and big hair. I don't know if it's just me, but there seemed to be a lot more dancing going on when I was in middle school. Sure there was dancing, but there was also a whole lot of standing around. The sixth graders seemed a lot less inhibited than the older kids.
Overall it was a good time. I think any time I need a good flashback, I'll just volunteer to chaperone a school dance again. I might as well get my time in now, when the diva is in middle school I doubt she will want me lurking in shadows of the loud, dark, gymnasium while she tries to get her groove on.

This is what happens when I take out the camera

All I wanted was one little picture. But the Diva takes it upon herself to turn it into a photo shoot. She has been doing this for well over a year, and I still don't know where she gets it.

34 months ago

The Diva looked like this:

Now she looks like this:

Can someone please tell me where the time went?

What the soup??

I just saw a puzzling commercial for Progresso Soup. The wife tells the husband "The kids are gone, it's just us now, no more condensed soup for us" (or something along those lines). The whole premise of the commercial is that condensed soup is crap. So are they saying "Feed your kids crap, but save the good stuff for yourselves?" Can't everybody have healthy flavorful soup? Shouldn't we be more worried about providing nutritious meals for our kids, since we are the ones feeding them? Personally I like to make my own soup, but whatever. Am I reading to much into this? Because that commercial really just ticked me off.

Cookie Making with The Diva

This morning we made peanut butter cookies with The Diva.

Me: Look Diva, you roll the cookie dough into a little ball just like this.
Diva: (holding out her dough) There Mommy I did it! It looks just like a poop.

Not the visual you really want when baking cookies, but she is kind of right.

Tell her I sent you!

Beth is having another giveaway. This time it is a Reader's Digest Subscription. But the fun doesn't stop there, if you comment, you can do so in the form of a Haiku. I had fun coming up with mine, even though it was sort of boring. I bet you can do better..... so check it out. Oh, and just mention I sent you and if you win I get cookies! Have fun kids!

Santa Who?

Don't let small children read this.
I am totally blowing it on the Santa front. The Diva is into Santa this year. I am not sure how she even knows much about the jolly old elf, since I have been skirting around the subject as much as possible. But oh no, it hasn't stopped The Diva. She could totally pick the dude out of a line up and she noticed him on a Coke can today. "Look Mommy, it's Santa!" She exclaims, whenever she gets a glimpse of the big guy. With Christmas all around us already, she is noticing him more and more. She even has a list for Santa- tap shoes and a tap dancing dress ( what the hell is a tap dancing dress anyway? If anyone knows, please tell me, because The Diva sure wants one.)

But alas, the problem is with me. I have been avoiding Santa because I have issues with him. Well, with the actual non-existence of him. (Are you following me?) Santa isn't real. I am feeding my daughter a pack of lies. She trusts me completely and counts on me to tell her what is what. And I am lying to her. I am telling her that an imaginary guy is coming to our house to leave presents. Not just for her, but for sweet little children all over the world. My best friend and my mom think I am a nut job. I think they are both afraid I am going to blow the whole thing. "Believing, is part of the magic of Christmas", they say. "Don't you remember Miracle on 34th Street??? My exasperated mother exclaimed. I am going along with it, but slightly grudgingly, because I just feel dishonest. I can't remember when I found out Santa was my parents and I think it must be because the whole thing was so traumatic that I have blocked it out to protect myself from the pain. I should have caught on quickly though; we never left cookies and milk for Santa, we left Cookies and Pepsi. My dad drinks Pepsi so much I think he might just bleed Pepsi. Coincidence? I think not!

So tonight Santa came up in conversation with The Diva, and I tried to be good, I really did.

Me: Santa is going to come to our house late on Christmas Eve
Diva: To sleep OVER????
Me: (Trying not to laugh) No, he won't sleep over but...
Diva: (All wide eyed and serious) What Mommy, what will he do?
Me: He's going to sneak into our house while we are sleeping and .......... here Diva, let's call Aunt Shell and she will tell you all about Santa.

I was laughing so hard on the inside I thought I might explode. I may have issues with this thing, but here I am making Santa sound creepier than I already thing the whole thing sort of sounds. He SNEAKS into the house??? I think I get a big fat F on this one.

Lobster Girl

I know, I know Halloween has come and gone. It has taken me forever to get pictures from my camera to the computer to this blog. But there is my lobster in all her crustacean glory! (Notice the dramatic lobster pose in the second picture) Only a few people thought she was a crab ( and I am told the hat I borrowed from my step-siblings is indeed a crab hat) and we got so many compliments on her costume. She was the only lobster around town! I bought red sweatpants and we already had a sweatshirt handy. My mom made the body with glittery red felt, with the lobster tail coming down in the back. I made the claws by sewing felt claws onto a pair of red mittens. All in all I would say it was a success, and The Diva was really happy!

Dear Daddy-o

Darling Husband of Mine,

Let me start by saying I love you. I think you are an amazing dad, a caring husband, and I happen to think you are pretty hot to boot. However there is a little issue that arose today that I just need to get off my chest.

When I write Manwich (or some other brand of sloppy joe) on the grocery list, that is really what I want you to buy. Seriously. I know it may come as a shock to the system, since it isn't on our grocery list much, but for some reason I really wanted a good old Sloppy Joe. I was even all excited planning the other really healthy things I could serve with the Sloppy Joes to make up for us eating said Sloppy Joes.

So buying Sloppy Joe flavored Hamburger Helper in it's place was not very cool. I understand you couldn't find the Manwich anywhere in that ginormous Price Chopper. I understand you thought you were doing a good thing by getting the Sloppy Joe type stand in. You were even really adorable when you were telling me what you bought. So excited, so proud. So adorable in fact, that I couldn't really get mad about not getting my stinkin' Manwich. But for future reference, stick to the list. And thanks again for doing the grocery shopping in the first place. And for vacuuming. I probably sound like a really petty wench for even bringing this up.

Thanks for listening!!!

Love,
Your Wife

I guess I need a tanning bed or something

Me: Diva I love your skin, it is so beautiful.
Diva: Yes, it's like Daddy's.
Me: Why, does my skin look different?
Diva: Yes, yours is green and shiny.


Yikes.

Where does she come up with this stuff?

The Diva has clearly been here before. Tomorrow night she is going to spend some time with Grammy and Grandpa, so Daddy-0 and I are getting a date night. Funny how now that we live near more family we are actually getting the chance to date each other again. I like it! So, I told The Diva that she was going to go to Grammy's on Saturday night and the conversation when down like this.

Diva- What will you and Daddy do while I am at Grammy's?
Me-I don't know. What do you think Daddy and I should do?
Diva-Well, you could go have some sodas. Or you could go dance! And you could have adult drinks. And when you dance, you have to hold hands and dance like this (demonstrating the waltz she often does with her daddy).

Funny thing is we probably will go out dancing. And adult drinks will most likely be involved in the evening. The other funny thing is I rarely drink "adult drinks", and I can't remember the last time Daddy-o and I went dancing. So where she gets this stuff, I have no idea.

Displays of affection

Daddy-o and I have known each other for 6+ years, been "a couple" for 5 years, and have been married for 3 1/2 years. Back in the day, when our relationship was new, I would swoon when he would bring me flowers. I would melt when he would give me a sweet "just because" card. When he wrote "I love you" on the bathroom mirror, I thought I was in Heaven. But after being together for some time, it is easy for those romantic gestures to drop off a bit. I give Daddy-o credit, I still get cards and flowers and such, and I do sweet things for him too. But today, Daddy-o did something for me that brought back all those "new love feelings".

Mornings are a hectic time for me. Daddy-o leaves before The Diva and I, and I take on all of the morning, getting ready for the day jobs. I give props to those of you who have to get several people ready in the morning ( my dear friend doodlebelle) because getting just The Diva and I ready to go is a bit crazy at times. Today I got everything done, tidied up a bit, got us in our cold weather gear and headed out the door. It was cold enough to create a thin layer of ice on the winshield and windows, I could see my neigbor's frosty car as soon as I stepped outside my door. But when I got to my car I noticed something miraculous. My dear old Ford Focus had been srcaped clean already. Daddy-o took the time out of his morning to make mine a bit easier. Six years ago if someone had told me that a man scraping the ice off of my windshield would make me feel like a big puddle of goo I would have laughed. But I tell you what, showing love can be as simple as taking a few minutes to make your partner's day just a tad bit easier. It sure worked for us!

Tagged

Well, it has now happened to me! I have been tagged by Alissa to share six things about myself. I wll leave it up to you to decide whether or not the things I share are interesting. As far as spreading the taggy love, most of the people that I know read this blog have been tagged. So if you are reading, and someone hasn't tagged you, considered yourself tagged now! Here we go-

1) In college I took a trip to Puerto Rico and made my way through the rainforest with a machete.

2) I have a huge foot phobia. Watching people touch their feet creeps me out.

3) I have to tap the top of a soda can five times with my right index finger before I open it.

4) I really want to open a soup restaurant and call it Souped Up. If you happen to open a soup restaurant, please don't steal my name. K? Thanks.

5) I had pre-eclampsia when I was pregnant with the Diva. This caused her to be 6 weeks early. I then suffered ppd, and I am still a bit afraid to get pregnant again because of these two things.

6) When I was single, I used to go by a fake name in bars, and sometimes wear a fake engagement ring to ward off creepy guys. My roommate and I always made up stories about our fake identities and we once told someone we were in town for a tupperware convention.

Time to Shave

I am usually really good about shaving because I hate stubble. I guess I have been slacking, what with everyone in the house being sick every two days exactly, work, election stuff, the diva thinking 4:00 am is a good time to play the xylophone (thanks Daylight Savings Time!), etc. This morning the Diva crawled up on my lap and said, Mommy, your legs are so SCRATCHY!!!!! Why are your legs so scratchy?" I am off to correct this situation.

She really is paying attention

Within the last week our entire family (all three of us) got the 24 hour stomach bug. We each got it exactly two days apart. I was the last to get it. On Monday I was really in the thick of it and had to stay home from work. We have a futon in our family room, so in order to take advantage of the dvr while I tossed and turned in nausea town, I put it down flat-bed style. The Diva cannot stand it when the futon is down flat for some reason. She is very particular about certain things, and this is one of them. Tuesday morning when we were up and getting ready for work/school, I still hadn't put the futon back in it's upright position. In my defense, I was still feeling pretty crappy but I had to be a trooper and tough it out. The Diva walks up to me while I am packing up my school bag and says:

Diva ( In a very calm, rational voice): Mommy, you have a choice. You can pick up this couch or you can go take a time out in your room.
Me: Diva, did you just tell me to go take a time out in my room?
Diva: No, I said you have a CHOICE. You can pick this couch up, OR you can go take a time out in your room. It's your choice.

Ah, my own words coming back to haunt me in my little bossy gal. I want her to feel as equal as she can as a member of our family, but there still is a bit of a pecking order. I was truly chuckling on the inside, as this is how most disciplinary conversations with the diva go. We do use time out ( I sometimes call it "time to yourself"), and I try to remind the Diva that she has a choice, and that her actions have either positive or negative consequences. This just goes to show that she is getting it.

If you have kiddos, do you use time out or some version of it?

A way back playback

I don't know what made me think of this today, but somehow my mind wandered to a hilarious story from about 5 years ago, when I was teaching second grade. So funny that I just have to share it.

To culminate a unit on Energy, I was making Solar Oven S'mores with my students. Everyone was so excited about the project. We had made our pizza box solar ovens, had massive amounts of graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows and were ready to go. Making the Solar Ovens involves aluminum foil, and saran wrap as well, so I had extra on hand. I marched my anxious class out to the school's basketball court and we started to set up shop. My students were standing around me in circle, watching my every move. As I started assembling S'mores inside the ovens, one of my students "Mitch" approached me and asked "Ms. D, why do we need feminine oil?" I turned to look at him and he was looking up at me with sweet, brown, curious eyes. I was confused. "Why do we need what, Mitch?", I asked. Meanwhile I am racking my brain to figure out what the hell he is talking about, what kind of home he is living in and whether or not I need to involve the guidance department. Feminine oil? What is that? "The feminine OIL!", Mitch said again, clearly getting frustrated with me for not knowing what he meant. I took a breath and bravely asked Mitch to show me what he was talking about. He walked over and picked up the ALUMINUM FOIL. "Oh", I said. You mean aluminum foil!" I then explained to him what it was for (even though we had gone over it in class). I also had a really good laugh in the teacher's lounge that day. It remains one of my favorite "kid's say the darndest things" type teaching stories.

Stinkin' Traitor.

I would like to start this post by saying I don't care who you vote for just vote already! I would also like to say that anything I may say in the post is not meant to offend anyone, I promise.

Now, you may remember a while ago that the diva was an Obama supporter. She even said "I want my Barack Obama" I was so proud to be the mother of such a pollitically minded child. All that has changed. The Diva has figured out that a really good way to make mommy crazy is to say "John McCain" when I ask her who our next president should be. I do think it is pretty cool that she can identify both Barack Obama and John McCain, but come on now. She knows how I feel about this election. And I have over 27 years on her, she should defer to my expert knowledge. But oh no, this Diva thinks she has all the answers.

The other day when getting ready for work and preschool, the diva was drawing on her magna doodle. The conversation went down like this:

Diva: This is my job.
Me: What is your job?
Diva: It is my job to draw the President.
Me: Oh really? It is your job to draw the President?
Diva: Yes, President John McCain.
Me: Diva!!!!!! We want Barack Obama to be the next president!
Diva: Nope, it's John McCain. (giggling)
Now I start to get a little irrational-
Me: Diva, explain to me WHY you want John McCain to be president, do you support his beliefs?
Diva: John McCain John McCain John McCain!

Today I have no choice but to bring the Diva with me when I vote. So I am delighted that the little traitor has to watch me vote for Barack Obama. Sorry Diva and John McCain, but it's my vote. In another 16 years miss political opinions can vote for whoever she wants.

Green Girl

The Diva has a new job that she loves. She is now head of recycling here at our house. The Diva loves to put the recycling in the bin. When I tell her I have some recycling for her to do she gets so excited. We keep our bin just outside the front door, and when I let the Diva know it is time to recycle, she shouts without fail, "Hang on, just let me grab my Crocs!" I love that she is so enthusiastic about recycling!

Happy moment

Today the Diva and I were ladies who lunch. We went with her daycare class on a field trip to the pumpkin patch and then the Diva insisted we go to McNasty's. I mean, well, you know where I mean. Since it is a rare occurrence I went with it. Anywho, while we were there a woman dining with her family kept smiling at the Diva. We took one final trip to the potty (where the Diva proclaimed she would wait and go at home), and passed the woman on the way out. She smiled and said " I just have to tell you that your daughter is so beautiful." This of course isn't what made me so happy. Of course I love a compliment as much as the next person. But over the span of the Diva's life, I have encountered so many "Is she yours?" "YOU'RE her mother?" type comments that it felt so good for someone to finally assume she was indeed my daughter. I've always found it odd that people are quick to think she isn't mine. I mean, sure she is a bit darker than I am, has totally different hair, but come on people, she looks like me! She does, I swear! Even the online thingy says that she looks equally like her mom and dad. It is always such a knock to my happy little world when someone makes one of those comments, even though most of the time they truly aren't trying to be offensive. But still it felt good for someone to see us as just a mom and daughter, which is exactly what we are.

Day off attire

There is no school today, so I kept the Diva home with me for some extra quality time. I would love to go and do something today (it is actually somewhat decent outside), but the Diva wants to be a nudist. I am not really forcing the issue just yet, since going somewhere requires me to get ready too. I am almost there, but not quite. So now, the Diva has dressed up her birthday suit a bit. She is now wearing duck slippers, water wings, and NOTHING else. She also still has giant just-out-of-bed hair, so it is a sight to behold. I love my girl!

Grapes and Lobsters- An Update

I got a call from the manager of the grape-stealing grocery store. The manager was very nice, and very apologetic. They are sending me a gift card, and he said that he was going to be talking to all of the baggers about the situation, so that it would never happen again. I feel kind of bad about that part. It really wasn't a ton of grapes, and I never expected a gift card. I just thought it was poor customer service and that maybe it should be brought to someone's attention. Oh well, it is over now.

As far as the lobster costume goes, we now have the materials and the basic concept. And my mom, the bad-ass Martha Stewart is going to help me out a little. Which is a good thing, because now the diva is going to be photographed next Saturday by the local paper for a Halloween article they are doing, and she will have to be in costume. So hopefully it all comes together in the next six days. It should, like I said, I brought in reinforcements (my Mom) and she works well under pressure. I am sure she is super happy that we have moved nearby so that I can add to her already busy life.

Frolicking among the pumpkins

Enough said.

Her literal mind

We have a neighbor named Annette. She and her husband have a little boy. The diva asked me what her name was a few weeks ago, and I told her. The diva didn't believe me. Just now from the other room, out of nowhere, the diva shouts, " Mom, the neighbor is not A NET, she's A MOM!" Too funny. I am still chuckling.

Hmmm

Daddy-o thinks I am overreacting about the grapes? Am I?

Grape Thief?

I just got back from a grocery shopping trip. It was not fun. I don't know why I decided to wait until late Sunday afternoon to go shopping. It was torture. The store was insane. And why, during a really busy time at the store, would they decide to stock the shelves in almost every aisle? Like it wasn't hard enough to manuever my way through the massess of people without the gigantic carts fill with products! Argh! Plus I had the Diva with me, and she was in a loud mood. I tried to hurry, but it was a nearly impossible task, since I could barely get around. When I finally got to the check-out counter I had started to relax. After all, the trip was about over, and the Diva was being particularly charming. As the cashier was ringing up my stuff, I see him toss my bag of grapes over to the bagger. The bag was closed when I put it on the counter, and somehow it was now open. Grape start tumbling out. The bagger just lets them tumble. I made a light-hearted comment to the Diva about the grapes running away. The cashier gathers the loose grapes up and goes to throw them away, and the bagger says something, and takes the grapes and puts them to the side. It was probably only about ten or so grapes, but still, I had just paid for those grapes. I am not sure how annoyed I should really be, but it bothered me. I guess I will have to keep being extra nice to Daddy-o so he can make the future shopping trips. No one would dare steal his grapes!

Good Times

Daddy-o and I got a random date night last night and it was fabulous. We were given tickets to see the opening of the movie Frozen River. The movie has many Vermont ties, one of which being my friend was the costume designer. I really enjoyed the movie, and a bunch of family and friends went to watch the premier together so it made for an even better time. The movie won at Sundance last year, and is now playing in select theaters. If you have a chance, I recommend checking it out.

After the movie we went out with an old friend for a few drinks. I had the best time. This old friend is really like family, we are two weeks apart in age and have known each other for most of our lives. His mom is my mom's bff. It was great to hang out with him, he lives in Colorado so we don't see him a ton. It is also great that he and Daddy-0 have hit it off, and even went out together earlier in the week. I like it when my people all like each other. So far it is a fabulous weekend, we have dinner plans tonight ( I think), and I am going to attempt to tackle the Halloween monster, otherwise known as the LOBSTER COSTUME!

So tired.

The Diva's asthma kept her up all night, poor girl. So of course that means her asthma kept me up all night too. Now it is 8:30- ish on a Thursday night and I am completely beat. I wish work was optional. You could get up every day and decide at the last minute whether or not you were really up for it. And it wouldn't effect your performance at work in the slightest. Or have any impact on your paycheck. Because if that were the case, I so would have been in bed all day today. Lounging around eating bon bons or something. (I've never actually seen or eaten a bon bon). A girl can dream. I am going to go collapse in a sleepy heap now. Sweet dreams!

A Cool Give-Away

Check out this blog for a chance to win a great home made bear! I am totally envious because I could never make anything quite so cool. It doesn't matter how easy the pattern might possibly be. A bear I make would scare little children. Anyway, check C.Beth out. A chance at a cool freebie, and a fun blog to read!

The little things

This week has been a bit lousy. My migraine refuses to completely let go. A dear, dear friend lost her mom this week (she was a dear friend too). My heart has been broken for our friends and their family and I have felt sad for three days. The Diva's asthma won't be nice, and her stupid nebulizer broke, so I had to make magic happen to get a new one so the poor girl can breathe. And then, tonight, my sweet sweet girl layed her favorite blanket down in the middle of the floor, sat down and said, "Mommy, would you like to join me for a picnic?" Her sweet voice, and her precious eager eyes made me forget for a little while about the things that have been causing me stress. We had imaginary fried chicken, salad, lemonade and lollipops for dessert. It didn't add any calories to my day, and I was able take a break from feeling so crappy and remember how good God is, and how blessed I really am.

Such an obedient child

Yesterday we went to a harvest festival in search of the great pumpkin. It was rather insane, with a ginormous line to take the hay ride to the pumpkin patch, and somehow an even longer line for the ride back once we found our dream pumpkin. We found a lovely pumpkin and are calling him George. I made a fatal error in dressing The Diva for the harvest fest. Silly Mommy put her in WHITE pants. White. What was I thinking? Actually, I was thinking she looked precious in her perfectly coordinated purple and white outfit. What I wasn't thinking about was dirt. While waiting for the ride back with George, The Diva sat down in the dirt and grass. I really can't blame her, we had been waiting forever. It is important that I mention that typically The Diva detests dirt, and all things dirty. That little tidbit is important before I continue. When I looked at The Diva, sitting in the dirt, I said "Oh sure Diva, get NICE and DIRTY for Mama." To which she replied, "Okay Mommy!" And proceded to pick up two heaping handfuls of dirt and rub them all over her white pants. Hey, she listened.

Getting Busy

Note to Self:
When subbing in a math class for 7th and 8th graders, do not tell the students to "get busy" when they come into the classrom. They will laugh at you.

A Lobster

That is what The Diva wants to be for Halloween. A lobster. Not a princess (too easy), not an Alligator (even though we have a costume), not any of the other million things that would be so easy to do, or are easily accessible (friends hand me down costumes). The kid wants to be a lobster. On one hand, I am thrilled that she has an opinion on the issue. I admire her creativity. On the other hand, this means I have to try to make it happen. I don't want to crush her very first independent costume idea. I looked online and found a toddler sized lobster costume. It was pretty cute, I must say. But it was 40 dollars! And thanks to the giant tail on the back it looked like it would be pretty darn hard for her to walk in it. It made me think of Donna Martin's (Tori Spelling's character on 90210) costume (or was it a dress?) in that one episode. You know, the one where she can barely walk let alone dance? I think Steve was her date and he so didn't want to be her date, because he was still pining after Kelly. And he was really jerky to poor unable to move Donna. Maybe you weren't an obsessed 90210 fan back in the day. But I was. And I remember the episode, and I want my daughter to be comfortable in her freakin' lobster costume. So guess what that means? It means I, Mama to a Diva, must become Crafty Mama to a Diva. I am so not crafty. I want to be crafty, I do. I love all things crafty. My mom is crafty. I should have gobs of the most crafty blood flowing through my veins. But I don't. I am going to try really hard though. I think that maybe, just maybe I can make this lobster thing happen. My step-brother has a lobster hat, so I am going to try to go from there. Maybe. If I was really crafty I wouldn't need his damn hat. I wouldn't be blogging right now, I would be sitting at a table, painstakingly creating big googly eyes and some fancy antennae. I still haven't totally decided about the use of the hat. I do know that I am taking this lobster seriously. As crafty as I am not, I want The Diva to not only have her lobster costume, but to have a cool lobster costume. That hopefully will resemble a lobster. I'll keep you posted.

Sneaky Little Diva

The Diva has had a cough for the majority of the week. With her asthma (as you with asthma or kids with asthma know), a cold can really make a lot of trouble. So we have been diligently administering her nebulizer treatments and staying on top of this cough. Earlier this afternoon The Diva told me she wasn't feeling well and she needed a drink. I said "Okay babe, as soon as we get home I will get you a big cup of water and you will feel better." To which she replied, " I am all better Mommy, I think I should have juice." Ah, kids.

The Car Ride Home

Last year it took The Diva and I about 45 minutes to an hour each way to work/the babysitter. This year it takes about 12-15 minutes each day. Of course this year, The Diva has sharpened her language skills and is EVEN more chatty. And random. And asking questions I don't know how to answer properly.
Today on the drive home The Diva asked me where Grandma D was. Grandma D passed away last January. The Diva had met her, talked to her on the phone, but I think her real knowledge of Grandma D is through pictures and us talking about her. I was really close to my Gram, and now being back close to family, it is hard hitting knowing that she is no longer here with us. So with Grandma D apparently on The Diva's mind our conversation went something like this:

The Diva: Where is Grandma D?
Me: In heaven honey.
The Diva: Oh. Rocky is in heaven too. (Our friend's dog who died this summer)
Me: Yes baby that's right.
The Diva: And Sue-Sue is in heaven too? (Our friend's elderly dog who passed away last week)
Me: Yes baby, Sue-Sue is in heaven too.
The Diva: Is Sue-Sue still sick in heaven?
Me: No, baby, Sue-Sue is all better in heaven, she is happy there.\
The Diva: Is Grandma D happy? Can I call her?
Me: (At this point I am trying not to cry) No baby, you can't call her.
The Diva: Can YOU call her?
Me: No baby I can't call her either.
The Diva: Are you sad Mommy? Why are you sad?
Me: I just miss Grandma D.
The Diva: I love you Mommy.

I didn't know that I would be having these conversations with a two year old. And it makes me realize all the hard talks and conversations to come. That I will probably screw up. That I don't think I will ever be ready for. How do you truly give a two year old answers that make sense about stuff like this? Anyone? Anyone?

Not so "Friendly"

This post is about poor and pitiful customer service, but with a happy ending. But not a "Happy Ending Sundae, because they wouldn't give me one, even though I paid for it.

What the hell am I talking about you ask? Let me break it down for you:

Labor Day weekend my mother in law came to visit. We hadn't moved into our new place yet, so she got a hotel suite so we could stay with her for the weekend. Things were already cramped enough at my mom's to add another family member to the mix.

My dear husband was working. It was Sunday. The Diva and I were in charge of entertaining for the morning/afternoon. Around lunch time, we thought it would be a good idea to feed The Diva. (Makes sense, right?) There was a Friendly's right next to the hotel, so I ran in to place a to go order while my mother in law waited in the car with a sleepy, hungry diva. I followed the sign to the to go counter like a good little customer. And I waited, and waited. A guy behind the counter looked at me exactly three times before coming over and asking if he could help me. So, I ask for a menu to place a take out order. He brings me a menu and disappears. After 10 minutes he comes back over to the counter. I tell him I am ready to order ( I've been ready since about two minutes after he put the menu in my hands.). He tells me that he can't take my order. That he doesn't have access to the register to ring me up. That he will have to ask someone else to take my order, but they are just so busy that he is going to wait a while before asking anyone to help me. He is totally serious. Then he disappears. I am still wondering what he is doing assisting customers at the take out counter if he isn't even allowed to do the job.

So after a really long time, and several dirty looks from me (I am a bit passive aggressive), he gets someone to ring up my order. I order a meal for myself and a meal for The Diva. My mother in law wasn't hungry. The Diva's meal was supposed to include a drink and an ice cream. I gave her my drink order, but she never asked about the ice cream so I kind of ASSumed that maybe they would ask me when the food was ready and make the ice cream then. Miss Cashier took my order and hauled butt away from me, so I couldn't even ask if my ASSumption was correct. She didn't give my my receipt, I took it out of the register myself. Then and only then do I see a giant sign that says: "If you are not given a receipt with your order you will receive a gift certficate. Well, crap. But I wanted the receipt because they way things were going, I just knew there would be more issues. Miss Cashier had told me that it would be 15 minutes for my food. So I went to the car, drove over to the hotel so Diva and MIL could be settled while I went back out to complete my quest for lunch. I arrived back at the restaurant after 15 minutes. After 25 minutes Mr. Not So Helpful appears again, handing me two greasy boxes. No bag, no utensils. No ice cream, no drink. So I ask Mr. NSH for my drink and my ice cream. He tells me "Well, I can give you the chocolate milk, but I can't give you the ice cream, because the cashier didn't ring in the kind of ice cream you wanted." I looked at him in disbelief. After taking a bit of a breath I said, "But I PAID for the ice cream. It was INCLUDED in the price of the meal." Mr NSH replies "Sorry, I can't give it to you." At this point most people would have probably asked to see a manager. But I had already spent an hour and 10 minutes dealing with this and I had a hungry, tired two year old to worry about. So I took my stuff and left. I fed my girl, and then I called Friendly's to let them know about just how happy I was. There had just been a shift change, so the manager on duty took my story, took my number, and told me I would be getting a call. She said that the situation was unacceptable and that I would be hearing from someone soon. 3 days later I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize. It is the manager who WAS on duty the day I tried to purchase a simple take out lunch. She asked me to tell her what had happened so that she was sure she had it all right. When I was finished, she seemed to be pretty appalled. She said she too had a young child and understood how frustrating the situation was. She couldn't believe ALL of the things that were done wrong throughout my visit. She was very nice, and did a ton of apologizing. Then she told me a gift certificate was in the mail and that if we ever had a problem again to ask for her personally. 3 days later we got a 25 dollar gift card in the mail along with an apology letter. So Friendly's redeemed themselves, and it's a good thing they did. They have a lot to live up to with a name like Freakin' FRIENDLY'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I swear I am back!

My internet visits have been sporadic, but we will achieve connection to cyber space Monday morning! Woo-hoo. I am sure my mom is sick of me coming over to use her computer, although being able to bring an adorable, entertaining diva with me has to make it more bearable for her.
I have a zillion things I want to blog about, but for now a random thought from The Diva.

Every day we drive by a building near the waterfront that has gargoyles on it. Flying monkeys to be exact. The Diva looks forward to seeing "the monkeys" everyday. She even puts her hands over her precious cheeks and yells "Oh Monkeeeeys, where arrrrrrre yoooooou?" Cute (loud) stuff. Tuesday morning as we drove by the monkeys, the diva got quiet. Then she said, "Mom, those monkeys look cold. They need jackets."
What do you say to that?

Guess who's back

I know you all missed me. Right? Right? Anyone? I have been on a bit of a hiatus, due to moving and work and life in general. Temporarily having no internet access puts a damper on blogging. We are working on correcting the issue and will hopefully have some technology in our home soon.

More on employment

I must add that I was uncharacteristically at ease for this job interview. It went better than I thought it would. I usually have major anxiety before, during and after a job interview and not even a good pill can fix it. I was witty, I was charming, I was quick with responses. And all of this after my car stalling on the way to the interview. Heck, I would have hired me. I also have to think that for some unknown reason I was meant to take this job. After all of the job searching and applying for jobs I have done, I actually applied for this job by mistake. It was listed as something else, so I applied and then got a call anyway and found out it wasn't the job I thought it was. So I guess, in the words of Robert Barone "It was meant to be". I hope.

I am now employed!

I got a job! It's totally not what I thought I would be doing, but I am kind of excited about that. I will be spending the year subbing in middle school. I am a little scared of middle schoolers, but please don't tell them. No classroom of my own, complete fly by the seat of my pants action. But I will be done working everyday at 2:45, when I can go scoop my diva up and let her run me ragged until she falls asleep. I start my new job Monday, so I am trying to work out the child care kinks. I am happy to be employed, and hopefully a full time job of my dreams will appear for the next school year. Since this year is a transition year for my family, I figure why not go with a crazy transition job. The school seems great and I really liked the principal and assistant principal. I felt very comfortable there. Thanks for the prayers!

Say a little prayer

If you are reading this please say a little prayer for me. I had a job interview today and I really, really want THIS job. If you don't pray, then just think happy, positive, hire Shannon thoughts. Please and thank you.

Feel the Burn

I did it! I went to the dreaded Body Pump class. Guess what? I liked it! I could keep up! I was proud of myself! Now I hurt.

I decided to suck it up, be a woman, and go to the class like I had promised my bff. No excuses, and very little whining. But let me tell you, I thought I was going to either throw up or cry on the way to the class. Seriously. Instead of psyching myself up, I psyched myself out. I was sure I would fail, possibly die even. Adam Sandler's "They're all gonna laugh at you" played over and over again in my head. I questioned my attire, my body, my sanity.

I met my girl in the parking lot. She was so ready. I pretended to be ready. When it comes to best friends, this girl really knows how to play the role. She was supportive, and wouldn't let me be as neurotic as I wanted to be as we entered the gym, and then the class. The class was filled with people at a variety of fitness levels. So score one for my self-esteem. I wasn't the odd woman out. I was one of two newbies to the class. The instructor was pumptastic! I really liked her. Her energy was great, she was very encouraging, and she didn't make it all sound and seem like it was as easy as taking a breath. Because it wasn't.

The class started with "Ab Frenzy" After that 15 minutes of hell I was pretty much ready to proclaim myself exercised and hit the door. But no, the fun was just beginning. I lifted, I lunged, I crunched, and I did a whole lot of other things I wouldn't have imagined myself doing. But I did it, and I survived. I actually enjoyed it. I felt like I had accomplished something when I finished. I am actually looking forward to next week. And God bless my awesome, supportive bff. As we parted ways she said " I am so proud of you, you did such an awesome job!" Every girl needs that encouragement once in a while.

My fingers are about the only functioning body part right now. I am a bit concerned about running at 5 am. We'll see if I can lift my aching body out of the bed. Here's to hoping!

Mid-Week Update and Such

I just did my weigh in for OSB (my newest life line). I have lost two little pounds. Gotta start somewhere I guess. I am sticking to working out and to the Couch to 5k plan. I found a frozen yogurt that I love, it is good for getting me through a must-have-something-sweet craving. I have also been chugging a big ole glass of the H2O every time I want to put something in my mouth. I am also a big fan of Honey Wheat Pretzel braids. I found a no name brand that are just as good as Rold Gold. (or however it's spelled).
I have battle wounds and everything to prove I have been exercising. Because I am in need of some new running shoes, my right heel barely has any skin left on it. It hurts! Also, my calves are tingly and achy and so it makes me feel like I am accomplishing something. They do say no pain no gain, right?
Tonight I will indulge a bit. I am going to an actual ladies night. No, not at a seedy bar with drink specials (although that would be fun too). My cousin, who I haven't seen in years has invited me over to play. I am really excited to cut the cord for the night and be someone other than Mommy. Don't get me wrong, I love being Mommy. But a girl's got to get out every once in a while. It's so much easier for the husband to do it, since he knows I will always be here. I always have to put in some sort of effort and plead my case in order to get out on my own. I probably put a lot of that on myself (mommy guilt and all).
In closing- a dilemma. I foolishly told my dearest friend that I would attend her Body Pump Class with her tomorrow night. I am terrified. I know that she comes home from this class exhausted and in pain. And she goes every single week. She loves it! She wants me to love it too. I am afraid I am biting off more than I can chew. And I am scared to be the unfit girl in the class of Body Pump fanatics, looking all adorable and in shape in there work out gear. So, do I risk the chance of humiliation and pain and go to the class? Or do I fake illness or injury?

And I'm off!

Today I started the Couch to 5k program. So that makes today day one. I am impressed with myself for a few reasons.
1) I dragged my butt out of bed at 5:00 am this morning to exercise.
2) I ran today. I actually ran. Sure it was only 60 seconds at a time, but for me it is an accomplishment of sorts.
3) Did I mention I was exercising at 5:00 am? This is kind of a big deal.

I have been wanting to get back into a workout routine, but I have had some legitimate and not so legitimate reasons for not pushing myself to actually do it. The biggest factor was The Diva. I don't get alone time. Ever. Or at least hardly ever. I have showered alone, without anyone in the room exactly two times this month. Every other time I had a little person on the other side of the curtain asking me if I was playing with her toys. I decided I had to just bite the bullet and do something. The Husband leaves for work at 6:45 every day, so I figured if I get up in the wee hours of the morning, while everyone is still asleep, I can have my workout. I've tried walking with The Diva in the stroller, but to me my exercise time really needs to be ME TIME! When I was a single, childless gal, I worked out every day. Sometimes I would let myself have Sundays off, but it was a part of my routine that was so important to my mental and physical health. You could find me every day after work in my apartment complex fitness center sweating away to BET's Rap City. I miss those days a little. Everything changes when you get married, and then again when you have children. But if I am going to revert back to something from my single days why not let it be the healthy parts?

She's endless entertainment

My favorite pic of the week.

Ball Pit, or Death Trap?

Today we went to a birthday party at a local Pizza, Mini Golf, Arcade Type Place. The Diva was overjoyed. Pizza, cake, a slinky that took 5 dollars to win, and the ball pit. She was having a fabulous time in the ball pit, and lucky for me her six year old cousin was willing to be her playmate while I watched happily from the outside. Until I hear five words I so didn't want to hear. "Mommy, my foot is stuck!" I look at The Diva, and sure enough her foot has managed to get stuck in a gap between the landing and the ball pit. And not just stuck- twisted at a weird angle and stuck. Now, the entrance to the ball pit is an awkward shaped tunnel on either side of the pit. So I make a bee-line for an entrance and hustle my anything-but-tiny rear through the tunnel, dive into the ball pit, and wade my way to my child in distress. A random dad, who was also on the outside went at The Diva from the other entrance. Thank God he did, because I don't know that I would have gotten her foot out without his help. And I am positive that the longer it took, the more I would have freaked. Poor Diva screamed everytime I touched her foot. I wasn't sure what the best method of getting her unstuck was, so I went with the wiggle and pull method. I just wanted that damn foot out, and my child in one, unbroken piece. The random dad sort of pushed on the landing and the side of the ball pit. I am not sure if he really moved it much, but his effort was appreciated. I freed my child, unscathed except for a rip in her sock and a dent on her toe. I reported the incident to the staff. I really don't think there should be weird gaps in play structures like that. They assured me that they would look into it, and if it couldn't be remedied immediately, that the ball pit would be shut down until it was fixed. I kind of want to go back and make sure they did what they said, but I am not sure if I am overreacting or not. The Diva was immediately back to her bossy self, asking to go down the slide, so I guess it won't scar her for life or anything.

A Date Night?

This morning my mother informed me that she is taking my 3 year old nephew overnight tomorrow night. Her plan is to rent a toddler friendly movie and have a slumber party in her family room with The Diva and my nephew. More power to her! Because of her brilliant idea, I had one of my own. My husband and I could actually have a date night! We really don't see each other much lately, when he isn't working we are sleeping. So, I tell the husband "Hey, we can have a date night tomorrow night!" To which he replies, "Why?" Not the response I was hoping for, but it didn't surprise me much. I think he was just shocked that we may spend more than ten minutes awake together- ALONE. I told him if he didn't want to go on a date I would just ask someone else. (Joking of course). He agreed to accompany me somewhere. Our date night probably won't be anything fancy. I'd like to go see a movie, but I am not sure I can resist the tempatation of ordering a movie theatre sized ginormous bucket of cherry coke! The popcorn with it's dangerously delicious yet pretty nasty butter flavored topping may be tempting too. I just can't win.

I need my hearing checked

I could have sworn The Diva just asked me if I was a "scary drunk". I had her repeat herself, and it turns out she actually asked me if I was a "scary troll". She has had this thing for trolls lately. It can be attributed to the story of the "Three Billy Goats Gruff". I felt much better when I realized I misheard her. I mean, there have probably been times when I have been a scary drunk, but not in a really, really long time. And why would she know the word "drunk" anyway? I am glad we got that cleared up. This entry is done. The Diva has just informed me that she "needs to dance", so I must make this happen.

Good Bye Soda

Today I start my new no soda rule. I have tried this before, but I really need to make some changes. So good bye Dr. Pepper, Gingerale, Coca-Cola and your fruity sister Cherry Coke. It's been real. Really bad. I am taking baby steps to a healthier me, since when I go to extremes nothing sticks for a long time. So for now soda is out and daily cardio is in. Here goes nothing.

Oh Man

The Diva now uses the "It's not dark out yet" spiel to try to get out of going to bed. Where the heck did she learn this?

New words

The Diva is now using the word "because" all of the time. Except she says "puh-cause". Example :
"Mommy, I want to go upstairs puh-cause Daddy is making hot dogs and I want a hot dog." So now sentences are becoming more detailed which is great to see. Her new vocabulary word for the last few days has been "frustrated". I taught her this word, and it's meaning in a moment when I was indeed frustrated. Dialogue between The Diva and I early today went as follows (during a moment when she was having a bit of a melt-down. ):
Me: Diva, why don't you come in the kitchen with mommy while I make your lunch?
The Diva: "Puh-cause I am frustrated."
Me: (In an bewildered tone) Oh, Diva!"
The Diva: Are you frustrated too Mommy?"

Should I make lemonade?

Because life seems to be giving us truckloads of lemons. We are still battling with the moving company to try to get our claim settled. I will just say that contrary to the name of the company, our satisifaction isn't really a big concern of theirs. A "real job" still hasn't panned out for me. The Diva is wait-listed at the preschool of our choice, so if a job does pan out for me we will have to find some sort of plan B. Things could be worse, they could always be worse. At least we have our health, and eachother. But let me tell you, three people basically living out of one room is no picnic. The Diva makes her way to our bed without fail every night, and I can't really stop her, since I have other people to worry about waking up. So once we are in our own place, getting her back into our regular routine should be interesting.
Monday I lost 50 dollars. Just lost it, dropped it, something. My only hope is that whoever found it put it to good use and didn't spend it on crack or something else I wouldn't approve of. The husband says I lost the money and it is no longer my business what the finder spends it on;I shouldn't have lost it in the first place. I shouldn't complain too much since he was a lot nicer about it than I anticipated he would be. We really aren't in a position to go around sprinkling money all over town.
Tuesday I had a job interview. I think it went okay, but only okay. I am really not counting on it panning out. I am driving home, thinking about things I wish I had said, and I hear this loud noise coming from the front of my car. Luckily I have heard this noise before so I quickly figured out that I had a flat tire. I was stuck in a line of traffic. I am not good in these situations. They are usually a sure-fire way to send me into panic attack mode. But I put my hazards on and pulled into the nearest driveway. I was hoping to make it up to a church parking lot that I saw in the distance, but I could tell I didn't have that much time. I called the husband, since I was pretty sure he was working nearby and could come help me out. I then called my friend who was caring for The Diva, to tell her I may be later than expected. As I was talking to her, a giant paving truck pulls into the driveway. I started freaking a little bit, thinking this person was going to chew me out for being in the driveway. The guy gets out of the truck with a big grin on his face and says "Let me guess, you have a flat tire." Well mister, good guess, since my rim is now attached to the gravel in this driveway. He then goes to his garage, grabs a giant floor jack and tells me to grab my spare, he will change my tire. So within a few minutes I am back on the road. I call the husband back and tell him I am driving to get The Diva. He immediately assumes I am trying to drive on a flat. Now, come on! I was pretty proud of myself for keeping my cool, and was really excited about my good luck. Thanks to the good samaritan who got me back on the road. I really need to practice changing my own tire, so when this happens again (and I am sure it will), I will be able to handle it completely on my own. $150 later, I am back on the road with my tires in tact!

It's my blog and I can brag if I want to!

Yesterday was busy. We had swim lessons, an apartment viewing, the preschool tour, and the celebration of my mother's birthday. Maybe that doesn't sound busy to some of you (like my dear friend with 7 children ;0) ), but it sure felt busy to me. I loved the preschool, as I knew I would. I think it would be a great place for The Diva to be and I really don't want to look anywhere else. I especially love that in the early 3 year old room they have two teachers for 10 children. The state regulation is 1:10. Unfortunately since I called last week spots have filled and The Diva is now # 1 on the waitlist. Not terrible, since I haven't even found a steady job yet, but what will I do with her on the days I am subbing? I haven't quite figured that out yet.
And now onto the shameless bragging. The Diva knocked their socks off! The preschool director kept telling me how advanced and verbal she was, and stopped several teachers and staff members throughout the tour, telling them that The Diva wouldn't be three until January, and to come and talk to her. That made me feel fabulous! Every mommy wants to hear someone without bias brag on their kid every now and then. My favorite part was when we were leaving and I told The Diva to say "Thank You". She looked at the director with her big brown eyes and said "Thank you for showing me your school." I am pretty sure that the age issue is no longer a factor in whether or not she gets in before January. The director said she would be in touch with me, and that you just never know if a spot could open up soon, that it just might happen. Now if only a spot would open up! Brag over.

In case you don't understand why I call her The Diva

The Diva now has a new line whenever I or anyone else tries to touch her hair. The moment a hand grazes her head she says "Don't touch my hair, it's beautiful". Enough said. For now.

The diva loves Obama too!

Let me start this post by saying that our family supports Barack Obama in upcoming presidential election. While he is our candidate of choice, I respect the views and opinions of others.
Now, I may have mentioned that my mother is a tad obsessed with Mr. Obama. Now it seems my daughter is as well, and I have no idea where her passion came from. Is Grammy making her watch the drudge report when we aren't around, filling her in on the election and why Barack Obama is the best choice for president? Could be.
I discovered the diva's love of Obama this afternoon. I was spending some time on YouTube, watching some videos of the Obama Girl, Obama dancing on Ellen, etc. (Okay, so I could be slightly obsessed too). The diva came in and climbed on my lap. When she saw the potential president dancing on Ellen, she said "Mommy look, it's MY Barack Obama!" I got a little chuckle. Then I switched to a video of a dance-off between President Bush and Barack Obama (all in fun, of course). When Bush appeared on the screen, the diva exclaimed, "NO Mommy, I don't like that man. I want Barack Obama! Where is MY Barack Obama???" Clearly the child is a genius. Or at least a devoted democrat.

Well, it is a start.....

I just received and email to sign up for substitute teaching orientation! Woo-hoo! Not a full-time classroom position, but a job just the same. It is also a good way to get my foot in the door in the district I would prefer to teach in. The woman I interviewed with said that prinicpals have told her that they prefer to hire people they know. Is that fair? Not really. Is is accurate? Most likely. We also have an appointment next week to tour the preschool that we would like the diva to attend. They don't typically take children until age 3, but her potty-trained status puts her in the running, so wish us luck!

Just a plug

I've spent the last two years trying to find the best way to take care of The Diva's hair. Our little darling was fortunate enough to inherit every ounce of thickness and curl from both her father and I. Daddy-o took this shot of the back of her head a few weeks ago, it doesn't really do it total justice, but you get the idea of just how thick her hair is.

So after trying many products, I have found nothing I like better than the CurlyQ line which can be found at http://www.curls.biz/

The products are organic and the line was originally geared toward multi-racial hair, but the products really work for all curlies! Since using the products The Diva's hair has been so much more hydrated and easy to manage. I LOVE IT!!!

What's a mother to do?

The Diva is exerting her independence, sense of humor, intelligence and bad attitude. All wrapped up in one delightful ball of joy. I try to be a good mom and as a teacher I thought I had mastered some effective discipline techniques. As a teacher of early elementary school, I have encountered many rude behaviors. Never though, have a dealt with the behavior that the diva has most recently exhibited. The diva acts up on occasion, as a two year old will do. As the "good mommy" I get down on her level and while speaking in a calm, even tone, I attempt to let her know that her behavior is not acceptable. So what has my charming daughter done to me TWO times now when I have tried to discipline her? She cocks her head to the side, closes her eyes, and SNORES! Like she just can't be bothered with me and what I am saying is so boring that it induces narcolepsy. So how do you explain that this behavior is wrong when I am already trying to deal with some other inappropriate behavior? My answer was a time out. Is this wrong? Who knows? Teaching is one thing, parenting is a whole new ballgame for me. The whole thing is troublesome, because while it is rude and unacceptable, it is also very clever. The diva decided to pull her snoring act at the dinner table when I requested that she use an inside voice because she was hurting people's ears. She snored at me, my mother couldn't resist a chuckle and my mother too was asked to leave the table. I ask again, what's a mother to do?

A picture I love

Here is a picture of Annika that daddy took when he brought her to the beach near our house. It was a fun time for them, especially went Annika insisted that daddy carry her on his shoulders the ENTIRE walk home. It's nice to live on a lake that doesn't contain alligators. The beach has a great park as well. The diva has a love hate relationship with swings. She loves them until she starts to go too fast, then she freaks a bit! I love this picture, because the diva was caught in a serious moment, not hammin it up for the camera. It also shows her hair in all it's natural glory!!!

I'm such a bad blogger

It has been forever since I have posted anything. Boy do I have tons I can write about, but I just haven't. The diva gives me endless material for posts, and I had better get on the ball recording all of her charm, or I will forget it.
For now I will just stick to a basic update of sorts. We are now officially Vermonters, and I remain unemployed. The good news is DeRon found a job immediately in his field, so we should eventually do alright, once we play catch up from all this moving business. Those of you who have made a big move know just how stressful it can be. We are currently dealing with trying to squeeze money out of the moving company, since all of our precious belongings arrived here in Vermont SOAKING WET! Much of our stuff was damaged. It was someone's brilliant idea to reorganize the truck in a storm. I can't focus too much on it, because it makes me angry, and I you won't like me when I am angry. :) I will say my husband is being much nicer about it all, even though he is frustrated too. I suggested holding the movers hostage until the situation was remedied. I was told that wasn't such a good idea, on many levels. At least we have our health, and were able to relocate to be closer to family and to give the diva a different life. Now if we can just get a permanent residence and both be employed we can work on giving our little drama queen a sibling.

Happy Birthday Private Body

The diva has two obsessions as of recently- singing happy birthday to anyone and anything ALL OF THE TIME, and streaking naked through the house shouting "I am totally naked". I am not sure whether to be amused, or concerned. For now amused works, as long as we don't have guests. As far as the damn happy birthday song, We go through this entire routine, she decides who I have to sing happy birthday to, we sing, she produces a cake of some sort (yesterday she made one by stacking her hair products on top of one another), then the candles are blown out and we move on to the next person, or item that needs the happy birthday song. Last night the two obsessions met in a weird and funny way. The diva has been proving to us since birth that she is indeed her own person, with the strangest little quirks.

Last night, Daddy-o's friend Jeremy (Uncle Jeremy) spent the night here so they could get up before dawn and get on the road for the Green Mountain State (The Diva and I will follow by plane this evening). The Diva loves Uncle Jeremy and spent the evening glued to his side showing off like only she can. I was washing her up, getting ready for bed and she made a naked beeline for the family room and her audience. I steered her back to the bathroom and said "Diva, we don't show people our private bodies". To which the diva replied, to the tune of happy birthday "Happy Birthday, private body, happy birthday to you!" She truly kills me. As I told my husband, she was in her birthday suit, so it was somewhat appropriate, right? Right?

Off We Go

Tomorrow is the day. Our move becomes complete. Our family heads to Vermont. The last few days have been foggy. Or blurry. Or something. It seems unreal that the day is here and we will actually be uprooting our lives and starting fresh. Really fresh. I am talking unemployed and homeless (well we do have a temporary place to stay). Nothing has come through for us on the job front just yet, but we are hoping that when we are up close and personal no one will be able to resist our talent, our charm, our need to work in order to avoid living on the street. I am hopeful that this will be the case. We have left what is comfortable to us to make a better life for ourselves, our daughter, and any future children we are blessed with. We will have lots of family near by ( and at this moment I am considering that a bonus, check in for a status report in about a month). When I look at what I want for our children, Florida just doesn't have it. Again, I may sing a different tune in 20 below weather while shoveling snow this winter. But we'll see. Anyway, Vermont here we come!!!

My Mama loves Obama

Sorry, I couldn't resist the cheesy rhyming title. It speaks the truth. My mother is a huge Obama supporter. Some may say she is a bit obsessed with this presidential election. Okay, so I say she is a bit obsessed, but after reading this I challenge you to disagree. We will complete our move to Vermont on Monday. Since I like to procrastinate about things of immediate importance and obsess over things that can wait awhile, I have decided thatThe Diva's third birthday party should be a luau. It will be January, and hideously cold, so what better way to celebrate? The Diva's third birthday will also fall on the day that our new president is sworn into office. What you are about to read is a conversation with my crazy (and I mean that in the nicest way) mother. I love my mother, and things like this are what make her so dear to my heart.

Me: So Mom, I was thinking about having a luau for Diva's third birthday. Wouldn't that be funny?
Mom: Oh sure, that's a good idea, but what about having an Obama themed party, if he is elected president?
Me: Mom, you have got to be kidding me, it's a toddler birthday party!!!
Mom: Well, Barack Obama lived in Hawaii, so you could still have a luau.

I brought the topic back up to my mom the other day and she had forgotten all about her brilliant idea. I had to remind her of her insanity.

Daddy's Friends

My child is interesting. I don't know where she comes up with the things that come out of her 2 year old mouth. I think she may have been here before. The whole defining body parts issue has always left me wondering if I am approaching it correctly. I know many people say that children should know the correct names for their body parts, but for me, having my little girl announce that she has a vagina is too much for me. And trust that she will indeed announce to someone, at an inconvenient time that she indeed has a vagina. I am not ready for that, and I am pretty sure her granparents, the target cashier, the publix grocery bagger, etc. aren't ready either. So for us, it is simply her area. It is an area, on her body, so I am not lying. I am just not giving specifics. So the whole breasts/chest thing has been tricky too. We have just called it a chest, and left it at that. Until last night. We were getting ready to go to dinner and Annika put her hand across my chest and said "These are daddy's friends". Well, the girl speaks the truth, but there is nothing that has been said or done in front of her to warrant such a comment. I swear. I am neurotic about not exposing Annika to anything too inappropriate. So I just don't know where it came from, but it is killing me! So in my mind, my breasts will now and forever be "daddy's friends".

What's in a name?

I have been dying to start this blog, but I sat around for what seemed like forever trying to find a clever title. I can't, so I am going with this one. No one will appreciate it besides me, but hey, it is MY BLOG, right? The name came to me as I was thinking about my family dynamic. As it happens, I am white. My husband is black. (He prefer's to be referred to as black, so you probably won't see the words african-american in my blogs.) We are in an "inter-racial" marriage, to be politically correct. For me it is just a marriage, but I don't have any others to compare it too, so I won't ever know if there is truly any difference, other than the occasional dirty look or ignorant question. We are just Mama to a Diva and Daddy-o, trying to keep the love alive, raise our daughter, and not kill each other in the process.
So, back to the whole blite not whack title, as I am sure by now you are at the edge of your chair. When our daughter was born, we realized that we didn't agree on how to define her ethnicity. She clearly not white, not black. As I sometimes say (corny as it sounds) she is beautifully blended. My husband prefers to say she is mixed. It just doesn't sound right to me. When I hear mixed, I can think of nothing but a bag of nuts. That's just me. Not the vision one hopes for when referring to their precious little gift from God. I lean toward the politically correct and call her biracial. My husband says it sounds so technical. So I decided that we would say she is blite. After all, we can't be saying she is whack. So blite is our happy medium. Nobody else has really caught on, but maybe we'll start a movement or something. You never know.