Freestyle Friday

I'm Freestyling this Friday...

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I love CB's school for many reasons, one being the darling teacher's aides love to do things to her hair I could only dream of.

Neighbors are coming!  So excited for J and B to move in next to us.  

We couldn't ask for better.

After listening to a presentation by a nutritionist this week, I have thrown out my non-stick pans (literally, in the garbage.  Sorry landfill.) and traded my sodas for selzer which probably is still not as good as drinking regular water, but I need my bubbles from time to time.

I wonder what the nutritionist would say about Rella gnawing on her filthy Bubby all day.  I think it's time for a washing.  It used to be pink and white.  

My camera isn't this bad. I just like that the picture captures her 

perpetual motion perfectly.  

I can't tell you how happy I am that it's Friday.  I think Pink is stoked too.  

We're all ready for a little bit of R and R.  

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

My husband actually asked me and our financial advisor (as we were signing documents, dated 5/5/09) if Cinco de Mayo was always on the 5th. Um, riiiiight. He has a doctoral degree and everything.

We were watching Lilo and Stitch last night for the first time. I haven't seen it in a while, so of course I was as transfixed as my 4 year old. When Stitch speaks for the first time, he says "Lost." It was a very poignant moment in the film as Stitch began to start developing a conscience and feel a need to be connected to a family. Pink turns to me with glassy tear-filled eyes and a huge smile on her face. She says "He just talked for the first time! I just can't stop smiling!" My eyes filled with tears too. At her emotional reaction, and my own. I'm feeling a bit lost right now myself. But then I remind myself to look at what's right in front of me: a fantastic husband and 4 perfect little children. I overlook this blessing far too often, focusing on other empty holes in my life. I need to stop taking my blessings for granted.

Back to my funky mood that vacillates from broody/blue to annoyed/bitter. Here's what I'm finding myself annoyed about, Oh lovely person that I've become:

my husband whistling the same Hannah Montana song over and over again; the Twitter obsesson; people that pass the buck; passive aggressiveness (Oh, I'm calling people OUT on that the past few weeks); key jangling; political opinions no one has asked for; busy weekends; the stinking rain that will not stop falling from the sky for a solid week; slow shoppers; and cleaning up poop from my carpet. Smeared in, diarrhea-like poop. Yes, CB is at it again. Painting the town brown.

And being out of diet pepsi, like I am now. Totally jonesin' for one.

I am such a nice person, I can't stand it. Such a pleasure to be around.

That's Friday's stream. Polluted as it is.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

Today is a big day.... we're putting down a non-refundable deposit on our land/house and signing a contract. Let the "building" begin! We break ground (or ground breaks open and swallows us whole) next month! It will be a journey. Prayers please.

I attended my brother-in-law's engagement party recently which was way fun. Mostly because though I had the kids there, we were surrounded by family so I didn't have to watch them like a hawk... or at all, really. In fact, I kinda forgot they existed. Thank God for this childless, young, pretty little thing who was the friend of the bride-to-be. This girl randomly took it upon herself to play Simon Sez and have little 'contests' with the children most of the time. Clearly, a seasoned parent would NOT have been interested in that type of entertainment. We're more interested in running and hiding. The seasoned parents were out socializing and getting tipsy at 2:00 in the afternoon.

It was a wine and dessert party. Um, HELLLO! How ingenious is that? Chocolate, wine, flan, wine, cannolis, and more wine. Oh, but the best part was that people were going on and on about my 'shiny hair.' Apparently, my hair is looking very shiny lately. Must be that flat iron. And kid spit. And infrequent showering. That's the secret.

Apparently my shiny hair makes me look younger, according to my 9 year old niece, ZoDo. I am the oldest of 4; my sister is 2 years my junior. ZoDo is my sister's child. ZoDo is my favorite niece right now (not that I officially have favorites by the way) because she is outspoken about ME looking YOUNGER than my sister. Of course, I am sorry for the dig on my sister, as she certainly looks young, but according to a 9 year old I look YOUNGER. Her rationale is: Aunt Alicia dresses younger, wears cool jeans, and has really shiny hair. Translation: If you have long hair and dress like you're a 20-something skate rat when you could really be the mother of said 20-something skate rat, you are "in" with the elementary school crowd. Oh, and it helps if you flat iron your hair. Apparently that is the key. It makes me ageless... I'm like Delilah. Although, I have no idea what that story is about... isn't there hair involved or something? Perhaps I'm more like Rapunzel, minus the tower.

Out of pure necessity I'm eating peanut butter on a pumpernickel bagel right now. Kinda odd. But, it works.

Oh, and CB busted out with a WORD out of nowhere. We were all out at a pizzaria and she ate a slice of pizza (which is highly unusual in and of itself). Upon finishing she shouts out clear as day "Piiiii-zzzzzaaaaaaa!" I mean, this is a girl who says only a handful of word approximations who just randomly yells out "Pizza!" one day. Will wonders ever cease? That was awesome.

Then, she bit the babysitter 3 hours later.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

I realized yesterday that there is something I hate. Loathe. Detest with every fiber of my being. I feel a visceral reaction when I see it: I want to panic, seethe, and curl into a helpless ball all at once. The bane of my existence. The thing I abhor:


I
Hate
Swings.

Let me get more specific. I hate swings because my kids are obsessed with swings and I have to PUSH them on said F'ing swing for hours on end. Seems like an over-blown reaction to pushing a child on a swing, right? Isn't that all part of the 'joys' of motherhood? Well, there are other factors involved here. I'm not alone in a quiet field filled with butter cups, pushing one child on a tire swing suspended from a huge branch of a weeping cherry tree in full bloom... with no other distractions, obligations or annoyances. It's never so idyllic. For instance, there are never enough swings for all the kids on the playground, and I have 3 kids (CB is at school). This means, that only one child can usually swing at once, leaving the other 2 screaming and crying and whining. Or, they can't ever find a swing next to each other so it's impossible to push them at the same time. Which brings me to the next thing I loathe:

"Push me Mom. Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!" Push me! Push Me! Push Me! Push Me!"

It plays like a broken record. This must be some type of torture conjured up by the CIA or something. Forget the bamboo under the finger nails, freezing water or electrocution. This is the kind of stuff that would have me relinquishing top secret plans if ever captured by the enemy. They're even yelling "Push Me!" WHILE I'm pushing them.

So, yesterday I had my 2 youngest girls (Tink and Rella) AND my 2 nieces at the playground. It was the first really warm, spring day so the park was packed with kids. There are only 4 swings and one baby swing on the entire playground. That's 200 children per 1 swing. Whatever. I'm explaining to the 4 girls that they should just go have fun on the other equipment... play... be a kid... run... do SOMETHING other than stand here and mope, whine, and obsess about the swings!

An hour later, the laundry list of complaints has grown. No swing, they're hot, they're tired, they're bored, they're hungry. Seriously, was I this grumpy as a kid?

I finally cave and realize I might have to check myself in to a local mental hospital if I don't get these kids on a swing, and fast. We hone in on the swing set, circle the mulched area like proprioseptic-seeking vultures until a child jumps off. Then, we pounce on our prey. My sly 8 year old niece snags her prize and I squeeze 3 year old Tink into the baby swing. I need to push Tink while holding the baby (who would just run in front of any moving object and get plowed over). My 5 year old niece is without swing and whining effectively. This is soooooo fun. Pushing, pushing, pushing. Then my 8 year old niece requests that I push her too. I'm shocked. She knows how to pump - she's 8 for God's sake. "Oh no," I protest a bit too annoyed. "You know how to do it. I'm holding a baby and pushing Tink." My niece continues moping and persisting. "I just need you to get me started."

So now I'm pushing Tink and an 8 year old while holding a squirming Rella and soothing an upset 5 year old waiting quite impatiently for her turn. Suddenly, this other girl - about 8 or 9 who has been pumping on the swing herself for the past 30 minutes- turns to me and says "Can you please push me too?" She's DEAD SERIOUS. I look at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me????" It comes out a bit too sardonic. I mean, I don't mind pushing children who literally can't swing themselves, but now I'm supposed to push Tink AND 2 third graders???? No, I'm drawing the line. I hate pushing my OWN kids, let alone a complete stranger.

I do the only thing I can to save myself: "Who wants to go to get a drink and watch a movie in the car?" They shout a cry of joy and leave me in their dust to climb aboard the mini van and sit in air-conditioned bliss.

They're all happy now, belted in and mesmerized by "The Little Mermaid." Who needs a stinkin' playground with slides, sand, jungle gyms and fresh air on a beautiful day? All they really want is sugar, a movie, and to hear the soft sound of their tiny muscles turning to jello against the upholstery.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

So, I had this dream the other night that I need to psychoanalyze. Being a psychologist (on temporary hiatus and highly rusty, and maybe never quite that good at it in the first place) you'd think I'd have some better insights with this. Help!!!

So, I'm dreaming that I'm speaking to my friend M on the phone. Suddenly, my nose is stuffed up and I'm trying to blow my nose. Out of my right nostril comes a yellow parakeet. As it comes out, it reminds me of the way a child is birthed. Then, realizing my other nostril is feeling plugged up as well, I figure there is probably a bird in there too. This parakeet is blue and I have a harder time getting it out. I'm pushing and blowing and unlike the yellow bird that came out smoothly and unruffled, the blue one is kinda stuck and when it does become dislodged, it looks a bit bedraggled and maimed. Then, I wake up and think about this dream all day.

So, WTF???? That's my question.

And speaking of WTF, why is Jack Black guest staring on Yo Gabba Gabba and what the heck is this weird, trippy show anyway? (If your kids are over 5, you likely have no clue what I'm talking about and are a better person for it).

Okay, so birds symbolize one's thoughts and perhaps spirituality. To dream of a FLYING bird is freedom of the spiritual and psychological... joy, harmony, love and balance. A transcending soul. A release of our own emotional/psychic energy. So, um, what does it mean when its trapped up your nose like a ball of snot?

Now this, I had to google: A parakeet is apparently the symbol of 'a message being conveyed to you, like from your unconscious mind to your conscious mind.' (Cue the supernatural music). Okay, as corny and horoscopy as that is, it actually does make sense in the context of where I am in my life. This makes even more sense given the person I was speaking with on the phone and our conversations that we have in respect to the spiritual. Wow, am I actually getting all deep on my blog? This is really freaky. Stinkin' dumb parakeets are messing with my MIND!!!

And there's Tink's little butt crack. Hi there, crack! Tink loves to be naked. Allllllways. Often she likes to wear dress up heels while buck. These are the things that make a mother take pause...

Perhaps my dream really symbolized that I have a bad head cold. Or, as my friend J offered, a warning NOT to get a pet. Or perhaps I'm processing the time Tink shoved sofa cushion 'batting' up her nose and for 7 months had the worst breath known to man (Yes, it took me that long to recognize that perhaps a toddler with sudden onset, chronic halitosis might indeed have some foreign body rotting in her sinuses.)

I am just so deeply intriguing. Aren't I? Such a deep, complex, layered person. I'm an onion.

And there's that crack again.

Happy Friday, and pleasant dreams. May they be free of parakeets birthing outcha snoz.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

My friend just got a beautiful tattoo of angel wings on her back. Gorgeous. It reminds me that I really wanted to get a tattoo for my fou---ahem-- ahem--- cough-- ith birthday. My birthday was in November. Am I going to do this or not? Seeing her tattoo reignited my desire. I just don't know what to get. Or where to get it. Figuring these things out WOULD help.

CB's breath smells exactly like a watermelon-scented car air freshener. That is because she just ate one.

My husband never has bad breath in the morning. Is that just freakish or what? Mine on the other hand is absolutely horrible. That's what I get for maintaining a fluid intake restricted to coffee and diet Pepsi.

Should I call poison control? Not for the coffee and diet Pepsi, but the whole eating an air freshener thing. (Though, my level of aspartame consumption should be run by a professional.) She didn't technically EAT it, just chewed it up into a raggedy pulp.

How long do ground hogs live? We have a "pet" groundhog that lives in our backyard behind our shed. He's been here for almost 4 years. But, I'm really obsessed with knowing if it's the SAME ground hog we see every spring, or a different one. I mean, what's the life span of these dudes? I'm not even sure if he's a ground hog or beaver. He sports a beaverish tail, but there is no water near us. I'm pretty sure they can't function without building a dam. It's like CB's stimming. There's a gravitational pull to do it. He'd be totally out of his element without water.

Regardless, he's some rolly polly large brown mammal and we love love him. We call him Fred.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

I think I need to move to California. I'm always cold and I just think I'd "fit in" better there. I'll leave it at that.

When people hear that I was a psychologist (in my former but not so distant life), they almost always ask if I am "psychoanalyzing them" to which I always laugh and say "Of course I'm not." But, I just suddenly realized today that I REALLY AM psychoanalyzing everyone! I mean, not intentionally of course, like sitting down and deliberately outlining their defense mechanisms and inner psychic conflicts. And not in a mean-spirited way... I'm not being critical or smug. It's just like... I can't turn it off. I wish I could. I just analyze every person, every situation, every non-verbal cue as if it were second nature. Part of my stride. The cadence of breath. It doesn't even bug me or take effort. It's just there... and I'm not even getting PAID. I either really need to go back to work or I really should get a hobby.

Okay, WHY is it snowing in Jersey on like the third day of Spring???? Well, not sure if it's really the third day, but the point is - it's officially Spring. Rita's Ice has opened. Snow flakes should not have the audacity to fall from the sky.

You can't think about what you're eating if you're eating bologna. And,why is it spelled b-o-l-o-g-n-a but pronounced bologneeeeee. It's like Colonel is pronounced Kernel. Someone really screwed up when they invented the English language.

Is it bad that I didn't give up anything for Lent? Yes? Okay, sorry. I give up changing diapers. Honey, it's all you. Anything for God.

Hmmm, is it bad that Rella is playing with a giant plastic bag right now? Yes? Hold on a sec....

Suffocation diverted.

Okay, now it's sunny and no trace of snow. This is some totally bipolar weather. Perhaps I should start psychoanalyzing the weather and its lack of commitment, Axis II tendencies, and transparent defense mechanisms.

Time for a Target Run. Nothing says "stop over analyzing everything" like a trip down the red and white aisles with three little ones.

Friday's Stream Of Consciousness

I have posts that go nowhere, so why not make a weekly habit of it? "Friday's Stream of Consciousness." I'm sure it will be both educational and a nail bitter...

First; a little story: I kick butt today. This morning, I kept the house clean for our video tour woman to come over to photograph our home (for the MLS listing). This heroic feat was accomplished with little drama, no yelling, and zero stress. After she left, I started whipping up a zucchini bread to bring to a friend's house who is having us over for lunch. No problem. I'm such a calm, serene, organized domestic diva today. My husband called and I couldn't resist bragging about myself. "I'm so on top of things this morning. It's GREAT!" To which he said something supportive like "Well, we'll see what you're saying at 6 pm tonight." Have I mentioned how much I love him? I'm going to prove him wrong, even if it kills me...

I really love Play Do. Why do parents hate it so much? Squishing it is very soothing. And I like the smell too. And, I don't find it to be messy which is the chief parental complaint- Is it really that messy? Whatever, I dig it.

It amazes me that CB cannot buckle in her seat belt, open a ziplock bag, put on her own shoes, or dress herself, but she can manage to undo and remove her scoliosis brace in a flash. It's also amazing that my husband doesn't know where we keep anything in the house despite that fact that he too has lived here for 4 years...

I have this phantom itchy elbow that is driving me insane.

I literally have holes in every pair of socks I own right now. Plus, a hole in the toe of my cherished Uggs. Do I have some kind of freak dagger toes? Seriously, these things are the Ginzu knives of toe-ness. I think a pedicure is in order.

I'm annoyed that I for some reason can't upload my images into this post. What is going on? There goes my next thought which involed a picture of Tink on her laptop. I have no business operating a blog. I don't know diddly about computers.

By the way, it's 5:03 and I haven't yelled at my girls ONCE all day! Eye rolled, used sarcasm, and sent Pink into "Time Out" twice, but no yelling. This is monumental.

Back to work and a refill on coffee...

Still Waters Run... Deep? Ramblings Of An Atrophied Mind

What does "Take It With a Grain of Salt" actually mean?

I know how to use this age-old saying in its appropriate context, but what is the origin? The literal interpretation if you will? "A Stitch In Time Saves Nine" and " The Early Bird Catches The Worm" I get. But what is this salt. Taking the salt.... Are you supposed to eat a grain of salt? Count the salt? Ponder the salt? Cook with the salt? Take it without permission? Is it ocean salt, table salt, kosher salt.... what?? What is the significance of this SALT?!?!? Very perplexing...

Still Waters Run... Deep? Ramblings of An Atrophied Mind

It's weird that the foods I love the most, I seldom eat. I love anchovies on my pizza, but because no other human being shares this love, I never order it. Why do they even offer it as a topping? Of the hundreds of thousands of people I have crossed paths with in my 40 years of life, I'm only aware of like 2 others who enjoy a pizza with anchovies. Aren't the pizzerias kinda losing money on keeping this in their pantry? Do they just have the one can of anchovies lying around and if I DO order it, I end up getting hairy fish circa 1957? Thinking about it now, I like a lot of weird things... gefilte fish with horseradish, capers, and sauerkraut plain, right out of the can. I also like most all Italian food better the next day when it's cold.

Another food I love that I rarely eat are avocados. They are so delicious, but not that versatile. Guacamole is the primary way I see this precious vegetable presented... wait, or is it a fruit? It has a pit. I think a pit means it's a fruit. Green beans and potatoes don't have pits, but peaches and plums do. It's settled, it's a fruit and a damn good one. Why aren't there more ways to prepare and enjoy an avocado? My fav. is making an avocado and cream cheese sandwich. It's quite tasty. What else can you do? I'm drawing a blank.

Caviar. Seriously. I don't just love it because it's expensive. I really honestly love it. I guess the expense precludes me from daily indulgence. Same with lobster and cashews... plus they are fattening. I guess it's the "good fat," but when you're trying to squeeze back into your pre-baby jeans, fat is fat, good or bad. Darn, avocados are fattening too.

So, anyone out there have a recipe for an anchovy, avocado, caviar, lobster and cashew dish? With a side of gefilte fish, capers and sauerkraut, please. Oh, and, can I have a glass of expensive champagne to wash it all down with too?

P.S. No, I'm not knocked up.