Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Happy Holidays

As I attempted to make dinner tonight, both of my children were watching two different episodes of "Caillou" on two different devices (not that they even know what "TV" is or are ever given electronic "devices" to entertain them while I accomplish things. Obviously.)

If you're unfamiliar with Caillou, he is a tiny, bald Canadian child who selflessly offers to teach your child how to whine in a variety of situations including (but not limited to): home, school, at a friend's house, at Grandma's house, at the grocery store, and in any and all indoor/outdoor settings.
I try to balance out the whiny influence with equal amounts of a small, well-intended monkey who seems to curiously create problems only to then be praised for uncovering their solution later on.

I heard the man with the yellow hat telling Chef Pisghetti the other day, "He never does this at home..." 

I say the same thing yellow hat man. I say the same thing.

Today we celebrated one of our family's very favorite holidays. It is at least the one we observe most frequently. That's right, as the preschool calendar could tell you, today was "Pajama Day."
We pride ourselves on celebrating National Preschool Pajama Day not just on February 17th like the rest of the western world, but also on many, many, many, many...many other days. We have celebrated in a variety of public settings, thus bringing further notoriety to the holiday, as well as further shame to my mom for having a daughter who takes her children into public in their pajamas. I'm very festive, it's no one's fault. Also, my children have approximately 83 pairs of matching pajamas. It's how I compensate for not having twins.

Because we love holidays so much, we even decided to celebrate something called Valentine's Day last weekend. This is a special day where a kind woman (we'll call her "Nonna") watches your children for hours while you attempt to escape the juvenile antics of your tiny humans and go partake in some real grownup, mature type activities.

But sadly, after you walk the 7 miles (approximately) from the car to the movie theater entrance, you see that the two o'clock showing of Kung Fu Panda is completely sold out
:(

So instead, you walk through the mall, sitting down occasionally so you don't go into labor, and taking in the glorious, mysterious, preposterous, absurdly magnificent sight I like to call, "helmet-less children riding around a busy shopping mall on musical mechanical animals."
People, I implore you. What. Is. This. ??? I don't know how this is a thing (though it totally seems like something we would have seen in Thailand or Cambodia), but I am hoping the local authorities don't shut it down before my own children have the chance to participate.

Hold onto your dreams.

Speaking of dreams, after our Kung Fu dreams were dashed, we decided to head to the most logical Plan B Valentine grownup adult times adventure.
Drinking Starbucks while playing free foosball at the local community center!

Now what's not important in this memory is who technically "won" at the multiple rounds of foosball we were able to get in before the nice lady told us the place was closing for the day.

What is important to point out is that my side of the table was clearly crafted in such a way as to slant toward my own goal. Is this fair toward a very pregnant, normally quite accomplished foosball player? Obviously not. But that's not a grievance for this blog.

It's a grievance for the next few Valentines Days of my marriage, as well as a few community center feedback cards.

We ended our competitive times (sidenote: competition is not helpful for our marriage) with a lovely, balmy encounter with the beach, and a lovely, spicy encounter with some Thai food. We are available for a small fee to help you plan your next romantic outing on the town as well.
 You're welcome.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Super

I think if I could choose one super power to possess in life, it would be the ability to simply look at a fitted sheet and know exactly which end to start with when making up the bed.  This would save me probably a solid 4 minutes over the course of my entire life based on some highly scientific mathematical equations I just came up with, and the embarrassing infrequency of my sheet washing.

"This is a cool car!" - Emma living large in the backseat of our fancy new minivan. She gets it.

Sadly, the former David Blaine status I'd achieved with my children abruptly subsided when less than a week after purchasing our fancy new minivan, the side with the magical self-opening power door became entirely unusable...

Until my husband magically fixed it this evening using some logic, skill, and a head lamp.

So now we're more like Penn and Teller, both incredibly magical, and one noticeably taller than the other.

In other news, you can be moving along at a fairly steady pace in life, feeling like maybe you're not doing such a bad job at this whole parenting thing, until one day you look over and your 4 year old is licking the booth at Alfy's...

I take solace in the fact that at least we weren't at McDonalds. Alfy's makes us sound kind of sporty (there was football on the giant TV's) if not impressively cultured because we're totally willing to wait for our cuisine to be freshly cooked. We don't need our chicken nuggets sitting under a heat lamp when we arrive. Why we even went so far as to have olives on our pizza because we're classy and love vegetables.

Speaking of classy, my husband and I had our wedding rehearsal dinner at Alfy's almost 8 years ago now. It was like celebrating having won the *8th grade regional volleyball championships all over again.

I'm almost 36 weeks pregnant now. My Baby Center update says my baby is equivalent to the size of severe discomfort and "Get whatever fruit equivalent this thing is out of me immediately."

I have a hair appointment on Saturday. Baby can come any time after that. Even a baby should be able to appreciate this.

We have this new fancy Jetsons-esque chair all ready for her to cozy up in for 4-6 hour sleep increments right from the beginning. I just keep having children to see if I can get one that sleeps.

George tests out all of our baby gadgets first. And then breaks them. But is somehow rewarded for it in the end. Just like in the books.


I think one of the surest signs that I need to have this baby outside of the womb is my apparently increasing pregnancy brain, which includes sending my child to preschool without a jacket (I figured her newfound immunities from the lining of the Alfy's booth would be sufficient protection...) and beginning to place a pack of frozen ground turkey in our pantry to defrost, rather than the fridge. I think having a third child to care for externally will only sharpen my memory and decision making skills.

*My team did not actually win, or participate in, the regional volleyball championship at any point. I did play volleyball however, as I have the awkward photos to prove it. And my mom says I'm very athletic.