March 16, 2008 - Sunday
This morning, we were waiting to see the Easter bunny. In line, many families with pretty little children were all dressed up in their fancy duds to sit on the lap of he who will bring them treats in a basket while they slumber. First off, my children were not in fancy gear...this Easter bunny thing was an afterthought; my main interest in being at the mall was to buy more pants for Emily since she outgrows them every other week. So, as you can tell, we were kind of already standing out like a sore thumb. Well, maybe not like a sore thumb...more like an itchy thumb. We were noticeably underdressed, but not painfully underdressed. Not that this really matters, but I did want to set the scene.
Then, whammo! Emily asks a question I have been dreading..."Is there a person in there? In the bunny? That huge bunny would not even fit in our house!" Since she chose to semi-scream this question, all of the moms, dads, and kids in line quickly turned to stare at us, the underdressed family...they were clearly awaiting my response as much as she was. Way to put me on the spot, little girl.
As you can imagine, this question poses quite the conundrum. She is definitely old enough to tell the difference between real and fake...and a 7 foot tall fuzzy bunny with gigantic plastic eyes definitely falls in the fake-o category. What’s a mother to do? I am certainly not going to lie straight to her face...she would know that I was either a. lying, or b. stupid. We can’t have that. I am sure she will think I am an idiot for the majority of her teenage years, and I am not in a hurry to speed up this process. Plus, we have a BIG rule in our house about lying, and I am not about to sit on time out! On the other hand, how can I burst the bubble of all the other children in line by telling the truth.
So, what was my response?....a big old mumble. Yes, I simply mumbled..something like "Well, theres sammeremen and the bunny pershhshsafluies. Hey, LOOK! They give you bunny ears after you get your picture taken COOL!" I don’t quite think this strategy will work when the "birds and the bees" discussion rears its ugly head, but it seemed to do the trick today, so I breathed a sigh of relief and went on to answer the 20 million other questions that she had while we were in line. Then, my casually dressed kiddos smiled nicely for the camera and we were on our way.
So, the moral of my story: When in Doubt: Mumble.
March 14, 2008
OK, folks. One question: what is the appeal with the Disney Princesses? The fact that they are pretty? That they have a prince and a poofy dress and live in a castle? I’ll pass, thank you very much. Please pardon me if I sound a bit jaded. I just have a slight bitterness about the princess madness that has played a role in Emily’s live for the past 2 years. She played dress up with the outfits, went to see them on ice, and has a multitude of trinkets and other such princess paraphenelia. Handel’s
"Hallelujia" chorus practically resonated in my ears when she uttered the highly anticipated words, "I think maybe I am not so much into princesses anymore".
Don’t get me wrong, she still has an adequete love for pincessy things, and this much I can handle, but I am oh-so-pleased to report that the undying adoration has come to an end. I must say that I do appreciate the princesses mannerly ways, their poise, and their ability to perservere when they encounter adversity These young ladies did have their strong points. That Cinderella did not bend over and accept her fate as an unappreciated servant. I get this. Way to go, blondie. Unforutunately, she waited for a prince to come along and save the day. What’s up with that? Is this really the role model we want for our impressionable girls? I think not.
And what about that Mermaid...disobeying her father like that and "flitting to the surface"? Putting her life in danger and giving up her voice, her God given gift, to hang out with a fella she had only seen from afar? Superficial much, Ariel? Seriously, you’d think one of her sisters, or at least Sebastian, would have stepped in and let her know that there were other fish in the sea. You need not give up part of yourself to make your dreams come true. Really.
Quite honestly, the only princess I would hang out with, and want my daughter to learn anything from, would be Belle. Yes, the bookworm who saw the true beauty in the ghastly beast gets an A in my gradebook. She didn’t fall for that egotistical Gaston. She stood up for her father and took a stand. She valued education and heart over beauty, and this is a lesson I would like to send to my daughter.
I look forward to the opportunity to revisit these stories with Emily when she is old enough to learn the right lessons from them. I am just happy, for this moment, that I do not have to worry about her expecting some guy on a white horse to come sweeping by and rescue her. My girl can stand up for herself, thank you very much, and I intend to be sure she knows it.
OK. I am climbing off of my soapbox for now. Carry on!
March 10, 2008 - Monday
Now, he is such a little clown. I catch him walking around the house making funny faces and cracking himself up just about daily. I am amazed at how quickly time passes, and I try to savor each moment until he is embarrased to be seen in public with me. Here is my big boy with some of his new birthday loot:
This was first thing in the morning, when he got his first bike. Notice Emily in the background...yes, I guess I do allow my children to ride their bikes in the house.
He really did love it...even though he looks a bit stunned in the picture.
Another favorite gift:
He is not really a demon, I just can't seem to get the red eye reducer to work on his baby blues.
Getting ready to eat cake:
And, one of the big sister enjoying the party:
I know, I know...again with the red eyes...apparently, I can only get rid of it on right eyes...the left eyes just stay demonish.
Anyway, that's enough sap from me for one day.
March 3, 2008 - Monday
Have you ever accidentally tuned in to a Lifetime Original Movie and gotten so sucked into the pitful drama that you can't seem to force yourself to change the channel? Don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. The main character and victim is usually played by Melissa Gilbert, and she is most likely being lied to or cheated on...or someone stole her baby. Without Pa there to protect her, all-grown-up Laura Ingalls has the worst luck ever. Seriously, half pint can't get a freaking break.
Today, my dear friend Megan and I were discussing some such movie, and contemplating what our own lives would look like if broadcast on the victim channel. How would our most suspenseful moments play out in a made for TV movie? Would it be as thrilling and addictive as the others, or are we just not martyr material enough to make our movie worth watching?
Sadly enough, the most dramatic moment of my day is when I literally sprint from the car to my home while perpetually running late from one job to the next. I know that Dr. Phil views consistent tardiness as extremely selfish behavior, but whatever...Phil has no idea what I am up against here. It is inevitable. I feel I must elaborate on this so you understand just how tight my schedule is. During this final sprint of the day, I wouldn't dare stop at the mailbox to get the mail...this would take like 10 extra seconds that I could not possibly spare. My poor children are lucky enough to get a greeting and a half assed hug as I dash to my computer to make up for lost time.
Anyway, as I confessed to Megan, the front door being locked is quite often my biggest obstacle. I must sadly admit that I have actually cursed the door for being locked. Out loud. I may even have let the f-er fly after this horrifying discovery.
So, picture this...the most dramatic moment of my day as I, played by Kellie Martin, sprint the 15 feet from my car (most likely a sensible sedan or quite possibly even a minivan) to my front door. Soundrack music is crescendoing in the background as my victim-channel movie comes to a climax so suspenseful that even the Lifetime people would not dare interrupt with a commercial. Kellie is determined to reach her destination. At this point, the heel of her shoe breaks and she probably falls over and scrapes her knee, ripping her pantyhose in the process. But that Kellie is a victim no more! She perserveres. She will crawl, hop, whatever it takes to get to that door and get to her commitment on time.
Tears begin streaming down her face as she realizes that she had just ruined her favorite pair of shoes that she bought in New York City with Tiffany Amber Theissen. With a new wave of determination, she charges once again towards the door. The new Kellie won't let even this crappy realization get her down. There is still time. She has 4 seconds to spare. Then, just as she reaches the door, the stinging reality of the situation overcomes her. The damned door is locked. And if you thought the music was crescendoing before, you were sadly mistaken my friend, because this is the true crossroads...the apex of the story, the defining moment that makes or breaks Kellie. "Why!? Why?!" Kellie screams, to no one in particular. The neighbors glance over at her but continue carrying in their groceries as if this is a daily occurance. Now, cue the commercial...the camera panning out as Kellie lies in a huddled pathetic mass, fumbling with her keys on my front stoop.
What will happen to Kellie? Will she overcome the trauma, and find that a new pair of shoes is just a train ride away? Will she make millions as the inventor of a voice activated door lock? Was this whole experience a blessing in disguise...her obstacles really a gift that shaped her true character and pointed her in the direction of her true destiny? There has to be a lesson in here somewhere, people...she didn't go through all of this for nothing!
What lesson did the real non-victim Natalie learn? To count to at least 5 when I hug my kids after I walk in the door. After all, when I am gone, even if it is only for 3 hours, that is three hours of their Lifetime that I missed. Fortunately, my dear girl is quite the storyteller, and their channel plays reruns of daytime programming all evening long. I vow to listen intently as they replay any crescendoes I may have missed. And tomorrow, when I sprint to my front door, I am going to laugh my ass off, picturing Becca Thatcher, a sobbing mess, huddled next to my flowerbeds.
March 2, 2008 - Sunday
Today, we packed up the kiddos and went to the Adventure Aquarium in Camden, NJ. Living close to major cities definitely has benefits, I tell ya. This was a quick 25 minute ride into a whole new world of sharks, fishies, and frogs. The kids had a blast. My third child, Andy, loved it too. He spent the entire ride home discussing how amazing it would be to breathe underwater. "What would be cooler, flying or breathing underwater?" he pondered aloud. "Which would you prefer?" he asked, reminding me that as this gift was bestowed upon me, the word "Behold!" would be thundered by the gift giver. He has really thought this moment through, I guess. Dialogue and all.
This got me to thinking. I have no interest in either of these "gifts". Really, I think combining my impatience and ungraceful nature with either of these things would be a certified recipe for disaster. I am perfectly happy here on land, just me and my two feet. Is that weird? Is this a symptom of my contentness or a demonstration of complete lack of adventurous spirit? I wonder. What do you think?
Anyway, at the Adventure Aquarium,
They let you pet the sharks and starfish:
We got to hang out in a rainforest:
They had these awesome glow in the dark jellyfish:
Got up close and personal with some big fish:
Emily the Angelfish:
Ethan the Octopus:
Me and the kiddos:
Our attempt at a do-it-yourself family photo in front of the beautiful Philadelphia skyline:
As you can see, it really was a great day. If you have not had the pleasure of visiting an aquarium, I highly suggest you do so. It really is amazing to see all of the wonders from the beneath the deep blue sea. Even for the boring, non-adventurous type like me.
I don't know what is crazier, the fact that someone thought ahead enough to figure this out, or that this has been going on since 46BC. That's right folks, 46BC! The man who enacted this rule was Julius Caesar, of all people. I guess he needed something to do between salads. (He actually stole this idea from the Hebrew's, but I digress.) His math was a little off, though, because his calendar had too many extra days. The result was probably something along the lines of snow in August; they were all f-ed up. So, they ditched this controversial character's calendar and adopted a new one made by Pope Gregory in the 1700s. The idea of the leap year remained, so let's celebrate this special day that occurs each year that is divisible by 4 by leaping back through time.
Leaping back to my fun filled high school days:
Notice anything? Like maybe that I have the SAME haircut as I did 10 years ago?
A funny story to go with this picture. I can remember when I ventured into the city of Allentown to pick up my package of pictures at the photographer on Hamilton Blvd. I had *just* gotten my license, and this was pretty much my first solo venture outside of Schnecksville. To make this event more enjoyable, I picked up Lori and her (not- so- little- anymore) brother, Michael. He may have been going by the name Fluffy The Cat this particular year, but this is irrelevant.
Anyway, you know how sometimes in cities, the people in charge of road signs decide to glue them to the sides of buildings instead of putting them on poles like they do everywhere else? Well, I unknowingly encountered one of these camouflaged stop signs and attempted to stop only after Lori screamed, well, "STOP!". I slammed on the breaks of the Jeep Cherokee just as I was right smack in the middle of the intersection. With a quick, panicked glance to my right and left, I was fortunate to find that nobody was heading towards me about to crash.
I was, however, UNfortunate to find two policemen perched atop their bikes, staring straight at me. I made eye contact with one of them, but decided it was still OK to keep going. They did not agree. Picture me, obviously lacking some basic driving skills, cruising down the one-way, all -parked- up, traffic-jam madness that is Hamiton Blvd, with two policemen on bikes chasing behind me.
Needless to day, I did not get very far, as I soon found out that similar stop signs are pasted on just about every other building on this street. So, they yelled and pointed at me to pull over. I obliged, and then gave them some expired insurance papers. Then I cried and mumbled something to the effect of "why was the sign glued to the building?". They yelled even louder because there was a crosswalk at the particular intersection where I chose to disregard the traffic signal. I cried some more and mentioned "accidental vehicular homicide" between sobs. I told them I was so sorry and I would never do it again. Lori sat there calm and collected, searching in the glove compartment for papers that hadn't expired 3 years ago. Fluffy sat in the back seat meowing and grooming himself.
Notice the caution tape in the background? Let's just say my boy is not intimidated one bit by flimsy plastic barriers. He escaped at least 3 times during the book reading part, and found the giant picture windows overlooking the parking lot far more interesting than the stories. Lucky for him, there was another little guy just about his age who seemed to share his passion for yelling at parked cars, so he was in good company. It was definitely a nice way to spend a weekend afternoon, so I definitely recommend going if there is one near you.
