Monday, July 30, 2007


I'm afraid to go to sleep. Not because of anything I saw on TV (like {President Bush's stupid bowling comment during the press conference with Gordon Brown today), and not because I'm worried about the kids (I'm always worried about the kids), but because of what happened to me the other night, when I was trying to sleep.

The lights were off. My husband is snoring soundly, and I'm just settling down for the night...when I hear it. The faint rattle of the mini-blinds in the window flanking Matt's side of the bed. Something is moving the blinds- and from the sound of it, it's not a petite something-that-lurks-in-the-night. I lay there for a few minutes, working up the courage to turn on the light- when the rattling starts growing more and more intense.

When I switch on the light- I see it. A beloved Texas tree roach has crawled through a minuscule crack in the window and is now making his way into the house through the blinds. I'm not sure who is more surprised- but judging from the swiftness of Mr. Roach- he realizes he better make a clean get-away, and hops down on Matt's nightstand and scurries for the door. Luckily, I have cans of RAID stashed all over the place- like a bug-alcoholic that hides cans of insecticide in the laundry basket for afternoon pick-me-ups of roach killings.

The rattling of the blinds didn't wake up my husband. Nor did the presence of one of the grossest creatures in creation mere inches away from his snoring mouth. But my hellish screams of disgust sure did as I sprayed RAID all over the master bedroom. (It takes a few minutes of a continuous stream of RAID to even register to these turkey-sized roaches that you mean business). He graciously lumbered out bed and swept up the twitching roach and flushed him down the toilet. Within minutes, he was asleep- in exactly the same position he was before the fucker tried to get in through the window. Not me. I'm envisioning all of Mr. Roach's friends- now wondering where he has gone, and how long it will be before they come to find out. It's a good thing I have 42 hours of Oprah on the dvr.

Sunday, July 29, 2007


We went out last night! Haven't had a babysitter for....let me think about it.... SIX MONTHS. Matt and I haven't gone out to dinner for half a year. Last December, someone graciously gifted us a certificate to use at one of our city's finest restaurants, and we blew that and more on champagne, cheese flown in from Italy and some of the best olives I have ever eaten in my life. We stuffed our faces, and hid olives in our humps, knowing it would be a long, long winter before we got served by a waiter and had our napkin folded for us again.

Last night, we broke the losing streak, and once again ventured out. Celebrating Matt's birthday, and our eleven year anniversary, we once again tossed financial caution to the wind and ate here. It was voted by Zagat's as one of the top ten restaurants in the United States, and according to our waiter, 22% of their business comes from New York City. It's that good folks. Although, after a six month dry spell, you could have let me put on a dress and lipstick and served me tater tots and I still would have had a good time.

Did we eat tater tots? No. We ate grilled oysters drizzled in truffle oil, slathered with some insane concoction of crab and shrimp that were dipped in a spicy pepper sauce. (When they brought this to our table, I told the waiter- "ooh! I'm excited to try this." He retorts, "You should be... it's a masterpiece.") We drank a ridiculously priced California Cabernet- and shoved little tiny marshmallow puffs of buffalo mozzarella in our mouths and giggled in our seats. Matt ordered a filet, doused in peppercorns, mustard and a mushroom demiglace. I always try and order something I don't cook at home- tonight it was veal. Veal medallions, served with an onion risotto (served in an onion ring cup!) and slathered in a morel sauce. Dessert was eaten in a drunken stupor (happily assisted along with port and muscat)- gingerbread cups baked with mascarpone cheese, dolloped with fresh blueberry ice cream and the tiniest of shortbread cookies.

We stumbled out of there, and hightailed it to our favorite cafe, that looked odd at night. It felt lonely, and awkward being there- without scrambling for high chairs, or cleaning up hot chocolate and getting the chance to insult someone with my arsenal of Mommy-torts. After some Moroccan mint tea and a couple of chocolate covered espresso beans, we soberly called it a night- and took a deep breath... knowing a good chunk of time would pass before we felt this stuffed, and delirious, again.

Friday, July 27, 2007

36 Reasons For A Happy, Happy Day...

36 years ago today, my husband was born in a small hospital in London, England. We regretfully interrupt your blogging pleasure to commemorate this special occasion with the 36 reasons why I am madly in love with this man. I apologize in advance for any sappiness, and promise to return to my snarky self in the next post.

1.You never tell me "no" when I really, really want something.
2. You hide behind your arrogance, and only me, the kids and your patients get to see your gooey soft side.
3. You call me anytime you can- just to say hello. Sometimes, you call me 40xs a day-others, it may be just once- but every time I know it's you, it makes me smile.
4. You have the sense of humor of a fourth grade camper-hooray for poop jokes!
5. You are never too proud to play with your kids. Never in million years did I picture you in a music class for children- banging your music sticks and singing in a circle. I can't believe I didn't have my camera.
6. You cook better than I do.
7. Anyone, anytime can you wake you from the soundest sleep, and you can behave like a reasonable, pleasant person. I so wish I had this talent.
8. You kind of look like Colin Firth, which makes you my own personal "Mr. Darcy."

9. You claim you don't know what good taste is, you just know what you like. This means you have excellent taste.
10. You hate professional sports.
11. You will happily look at antiques with me.
12. You're really not gay, even though number 10 and number 11, combined with number 6- make it sound like you are.
13. You read the Time Traveler's Wife, after I told you it was one of my favorite books.
14. You don't make fun of me when I get scared during thunder storms.
15. You still read bedtime stories after working a 36 hour shift.
16. You think Alec Baldwin is a comedic genius.
17. You make a mean cocktail.
18. You happily answer all medical questions pertaining to my family and friends.
19. You always wake me up at midnight to wish me a happy birthday.
20. You love Christmas trees.
21. You will call me, at exactly the same time I am paging you.
22. You love Disneyland just as much as I do.
23. You tolerate the beach, because I love it so.
24. You are honest- sometimes brutally so- but you always tell the truth.
25. You never give up on a friend.
26. You can tie your own bow tie. (You should wear black tie more often....)
27. You know how to order the best ice cream combinations.
28. You do the dishes after I cook.
29. You make me feel beautiful, even when I don't deserve it.
30. You do a mean jig in your underwear.
31. You always make traveling a breeze- I never worry when you make the arrangements.
32. You get silly and loud when you drink martinis.
33. You left an on-call shift to come home when I was passing a kidney stone.
34. You gave me 2 beautiful, silly girls.
35. You are naturally brilliant, but also have the strongest work ethic of anyone I know.
36. You took me to an Angels game when we were dating. Sitting in front of us was a dorky family that would jump up and hug each other after each home run. You held my hand and whispered "that will be us some day." And now, it is... Happy Birthday, ya big Dork.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


I took a yoga class today. I figured, after yesterday's preschool smack down a good hour of non-kid meditation sounded good. Plus, I've been a bit worried that I'm bulking up my fat doing weightlifting- the whole point of this is to slim down, not to enhance the Peasant Polishness of my shoulders.

As class was gearing up, 2 elderly gentlemen walked into class. My gym is located right next to a senior care facility- and a lot of these old-folk use the gym as a way to build a social life. I honestly think these 2 geezers were joining the class in hopes of standing behind some hottie doing downward facing dogs. Instead, they got Polish-Peasant me.

You're supposed to close your eyes and meditate, but my mind was kind of going all over the place. Here are a few of my thoughts:

  • "Holy cow. I really need a pedicure. I should get this up close and personal with my toes more often."
  • "Oh my God- that old guy has nasty feet. He's got varicose veins and I think he 's missing one toenail."
  • "Uh oh. Someone just farted, and it wasn't me."
  • "You want me to put my leg where? And my hand there? And wrap my other hand around my what? Are you really human?"
  • "Do not look at yourself in the mirror. I repeat- DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR."

Nameste everyone!

Monday, July 23, 2007

Ay Caramba.

Hey friends- there's trouble in River City. Trouble with a capital T. My oldest daughter, Annie- is once again, shaking the roof of sensibility at her local preschool.

I wasn't always a perfect kid- but I was the absolute utmost Pleaser. I LOVED to please people (not so much anymore) but would do anything to be the teacher's pet. I never went to the office ...not once. The same, after today's chaos, cannot be said for my Annie.

Apparently, she hit her teacher. Hit her pretty hard. Annie wasn't "transitioning well" (i.e. didn't want to come in from recess) and her teacher was going to bring her inside. That's when Annie hauled off and smacked her in the chest. Annie says "My teacher was not being gentle with me, so I hit her." Either way, things are not looking good.

This has me freaked out on a myriad of levels.
1. If Annie is already being sent to the office and smacking her teachers around at age 3.5- what the heck happens in kindergarten? Is she going to be a tattooed, muscle baring bully that refuses to outline her name in kidney beans?

2. If Annie has already learned a complete disregard for authority- what kind of fun will she have in college? Is my child a Libertarian before the age of 4?

3. And here's the big one- I told Annie on the way home, that it wouldn't be unrealistic to expect her camp to kick her out if this kind of behavior continues. And then, holy cow- Dear Reader, someone please put me out of my misery with a mild sedative. Those 12 hours a week rejuvenate me. They revive me. They prevent me from drooling and singing Wonderpets songs to myself.

So, no television for a week (Oh help me), I'm feeding the kids dinner long before Matt gets home and moving bed time up by an hour. I've also scheduled an appointment with my pediatrician for some parenting advice. I'm plum out of ideas.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

It's a known Sagittarius trait- but I have a tendency to unintentionally say the most inappropriate things--- at the worst times. I don't mean any harm, and my husband has gotten used to my "sixth sense" of inappropriate comments, that he now knows when to duck his head and feign ignorance. Case in point:

We had recently moved to San Diego, and were visiting a friend of Matt's from college. She had just gotten married- and Matt attended the wedding, but I did not (we were poor then, even poorer then now, if that is possible). After having dinner, she asked if I would like to see her wedding album. She opens the page, and it's a picture of the groom with his parents.

"Ooh! Let's see who Andrew (names changed to protect the innocent) looks more like- his Mom or Dad!" I say innocently.

"Marie", the bride shoots me a funny look and says, "Kristen- Andrew is adopted."

Next page in the album is a shot of the bride, standing next to an elderly gentleman who has his eyes turned heavenward. Marie tells me it's her grandpa.

"Hey! Look at that! What a beautiful photograph- your Grandpa is so overcome with emotion." I say.

Marie starts laughing and says "Kristen, my Grandpa is blind."

Next page is a group shot- looks like assorted family members. Of the 50 or so people in the picture, I zoom in on this one woman- standing near Marie's Mom.

"Hey, is that your aunt? She looks very nice."

Marie starts to look uncomfortable. "Kristen, didn't Matt tell you? My Mom came out of the closet when we were in college, and this is her partner, Judith."

After shooting my husband a look that silently said "How the HELL could you let me get into this situation?" we all moved on to dessert. I'm happy to report that we are still very good friends, but surprisingly enough- they have never asked me to look at an album again.

Friday, July 20, 2007


Amazon has started to ship my Harry Potter book. (Does it really surprise you that I would have to read this book the day it is released? My earlier posts of being on the speech team in highschool and drinking wine coolers did not clue you in to my Nerdiness? Really?) For those of you that have known me since first grade, you will also know that in EVERY book I read, immediately after finishing chapter one of a book- I read the last chapter of a book. It was that way for Betsey and Tacy, it will be that way for Harry.

I also try my hardest to find my Christmas presents. One year, my grandparents dropped their presents off on their way to vacation in South Carolina- and my brother Tom and I stealthily undid all of the tape and inspected our loot while my parents partied it up at a Christmas party. Tom was 11, and I was 8. They bought him a BUSTER BROWN outfit- which made me dissolve into a crumple of wet-my-pants tears of laughter, until he opened my synthetic, orange Annie wig.

I promise not to reveal any spoilers here (unlike other, certain unworthy American press) but I'm pretty certain Old Harry kicks the bucket. I'm not basing this on anything literary (what, you actually think an English major would actually use their education?) but if you look at the statistics- like the Matrix, Star Wars, and Lord of the Rings (oh please, a fairy boat? He was D-E-A-D folks) all signs point to a demise of the boy with the scar.

I'm looking forward to the read- I'm currently immersed in more Anthony Capella and also reading the Twilight series (what better pulpy summer read than a teen romance about vampires?) I'll be glad for the diversion since we're having epic thunder and lightening every afternoon- punctuated with flash flood warnings every now and then to keep it interesting.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

An Ordinary Day

Nothing out of the ordinary--- just well, ordinary things going on.

  1. I'm now back to being more "dirty blonde" than brassy beach blonde.
  2. I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my elbow, of all places.
  3. In related news, ankles and armpits looking quite muscular, ass is still humongous.
  4. I cooked a Cuban dish with my smuggled-from-Phoenix -Trader Joes sauce--- heavenly.
  5. I am so in love with Anthony Capella's The Wedding Officer- makes me almost want to be a WWII pasta making- prostitute. Almost.
  6. Matt's got a vague lead on 2 jobs that are actually in places I've always wanted to live. (Hint: NO COCKROACHES!)
  7. I spoke with my deployed little brother on the phone for 2 minutes yesterday. A butterfly continued to land on his arm for a few minutes when they were out on a mission--- it made him feel blessed. This made me happy.
  8. Gymboree starts their gymbucks tomorrow. I'm not sure if saving $25 is worth having some soccer mom kick my ass and grab all of the strawberry themed socks before I get my muscular armpits on them.
  9. I am currently listening to Ingrid Michaelson's new album- Girls and Boys. Love, love, love that quirky indie rock girl.
  10. I tried to read a Cosmo magazine at the hair salon today- who is their target audience? Thirteen year old nymphomaniacs? Damn, it made me feel old.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Little Miss Sunshine

Today, I turned into a grumpy old man. That's quite a feat, considering
1. I'm female and
2. I'm not yet 35.

But sign me up for Bingo and check my prostate- I've joined the ranks of grumpy old men. Today, it was yet another rainy day- so we risked flash flooding and packed the kids up to head to our local cafe. We found this place shortly after moving here- it's located in the museum district, and rumoured to have the best coffee in town. I always try and downplay my "momminess" and wear something remotely hip, and make Matt park our van as far away as humanly possible- to avoid infecting the coolness of the cafe with our family stank.

So, there we sit- Annie happily chomping away on a piece of coffee cake that she is sharing with her sister, and Matt and I nursing our caffeine injections and trying to wake up despite the rain. The cafe guy brings over Annie's hot chocolate, and seconds after he disappears, she spills the whole chocolaty whipped cream mess all over herself and the floor. Conveniently, a girl that works behind the counter was walking by, about to deliver someone their breakfast. I say politely, "Excuse me? We've got a spill over here." She shoots me a dirty look and continues walking away. A few minutes later she reappears, with what can only be described as complete disdain on her face- carrying Lucy's order of fruit and yogurt.
"I'm sorry? But before? I was very busy and didn't hear you? What was it you needed?"
I quickly tell her we need some towels to clean up the mess, hoping she would volunteer to bring my antsy daughter a new drink, when I noticed we got the wrong order. When I tell her, she shoots me an even dirtier look and says:
"Look? I just got here? And I'm just delivering your food? I have no idea what you asked for? So now you have to bring it back up to the front and talk to them?"

Increduously, I now see there are 50 people in line to order- and watch her shrug her shoulders and walk away. I stand on the line, where the guy behind the counter is very cool- and takes care of things right away.

About 30 minutes later, Miss Happy Pants reappears at our table- with a new cup of cocoa, and an even snarkier look on her face.
"Did you need this? I've been very busy?"

This is when I morphed into Walter Matthau- and said in my nastiest voice:
"No- I took it to the front, like you suggested, and got it all fixed. Thanks Miss Sunshine."

MISS SUNSHINE? Where the hell did that come from? That's the BEST I could come up with? Once upon a time, a few years ago, I was a buyer for a national department store chain in New York City- and famous for the diatribes I could issue to vendors that shipped late. I could drink the Men's Sportswear division under the table and once got into a verbal assault on the subway with a group of teenagers that were pushing people during rush hour. And yet, throughout all of this intensive training---- I never in a million years thought that I would be reduced to calling someone Miss Sunshine, while wiping hot cocoa off my Mom jeans. Now I've got to go kick some kids off my front lawn.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


My house is asleep, and yours truly is up late, watching crap tv. I have a new crush. Have you guys seen Dinner: Impossible? Apparently, I've either got a thing for guys that cook (see previous love-blog affair with Anthony Bourdain) or my new "getting healthy" regime has me watching the food network like it is porn.

Robert Irvine is hot. He's got that whole Daniel Craig thing working for him (I CANNOT wait for the new Bond movie to come out next summer) and the "24" spoof format is hilarious. He can whip up a pastry for 850 Marines with his own bare hands and bark orders faster than my mother-in-law. I have visions of sleeping in late, sans kids- and having Robert Irvine serve me up some buttermilk pancakes. Who am I kidding? Forget the pancakes, and truthfully- Robert Irvine would run screaming like a banshee if he saw what I currently call pajamas- I'll just take the sleeping in.

Monday, July 9, 2007


We will celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary this Friday. 11 years! If I had gotten pregnant on our honeymoon, I'd have a 6th grader today. Crazy. We've actually been dating for the greater part of 18 years. Wanna hear how Matt and I first got together? (I promise not to break out the wedding album...)

It was March of 1989- the time of REM, Esprit bags and wine coolers. It was a typical Saturday Night for the Redlands High Speech team- we were holed up in Troy Kobold's "bonus room" (unventilated storage room off his garage that his parents encouraged him to bring friends to instead of letting them in the house), drinking Seagreams coolers and playing Truth or Dare. Matt and I had been really good friends for a while- we talked on the phone a lot, but that was it. He got a "dare"- and someone dared him to kiss me. So he did. A nice, sloppy wine coolerish kiss. Then Troy drove everyone home in his Mom's minivan and Matt held my hand and said he would call me.

He did call- the very next day. We decided to try dating, and see how that went- so we made plans to go out that Saturday night. On April 2, 1989- Matt picked me up in his Mom's station wagon. He was a bit late, because he witnessed a little kid getting hit by a car, and had to wait to give a statement to the police.

He took me out for Japanese food- which I had never tried. As I watched him slurp up his sushi, I kept thinking to myself "Holy shit. If he thinks I can kiss him after he puts that raw tuna in his mouth- he's insane." When we got the bill, he grimaced at the amount- and I nervously asked him if he needed any money. "No," he giggled. It was his idea of a joke. (He has since grimaced at every food bill since).

After that, he took me to see the movie Say Anything. This is a GREAT date movie, and we actually danced to Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" at our wedding. (Ironically, I actually did give Matt a pen for Christmas this year). Despite the romance, I just couldn't understand why I wasn't nervous on this date. I hadn't had many first dates, but the few I had, I always felt uncomfortable, and this one, well, when Matt drove me home, I told him that it had been such a fun evening, and that I was so comfortable around him- because I thought of him like a brother. SCREECH! Date ends.

It took me a couple of more months to realize this was a mistake, and he spent the entire night of his graduation ignoring me. All of our friends went on a dance cruise in Long Beach right after graduation, and on the way home, at 4am, on a gassy school bus, with everyone else around us asleep- Matt grabbed my hand. Eighteen years later, I haven't let go.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Oh, The Agony

I hurt today. I couldn't wait any longer for my "orientation" to figure out how to use the medieval torture instruments at the gym, so I "oriented" myself yesterday. Huge mistake. After a good round on the rack, I am now acquainted with muscles (in a painful way) that I did not know I had. Like my ankles. And my armpit. I am probably the only girl in America that can lose weight in her armpits, but still have a huge ass. Sigh.

In other news, we have mice. I was up late last night, catching the end to Bogart's Barefoot Contessa when a little gray fuzz scurried across the floor. At first, I wasn't sure if it was a roach (more on that later) but quickly figured out by its speed (roaches are slower) that this one was a cousin of Ratatouille. Unless this mouse gets in the kitchen and starts cooking me a cassoulet soon, it's gonna be curtains, I tell you. (Note to self: must stop watching Bogart films right before bed).

Speaking of roaches, I had yet another beautiful encounter recently. When packing for my trip to Phoenix, I needed to pack the benadryl for Lucy's mid-flight sedation. It was 1am, I was up late- enjoying the solitude and filling the suitcases. I opened the linen closet (which has shelves built into the door where we keep our medicine) and went to reach for the benadryl, when I noticed a 4 inch roach crawling across the children's tylenol. (EEEEEK!) Apparently, it either had a headache, or a penchant for all things grape flavored. Now my linen closet has that familiar odor of Downey fabric softener, mixed with RAID. I really, really hope we move somewhere where the roaches do not like to live. I have nightmares about them stowing away in my moving boxes and coming along for the ride.

Thursday, July 5, 2007


I lost 3lbs last week! This working out thing has its advantages.

1. My pants are fitting me- always a good thing.

2. I now have an excuse to spend the entire day in my yoga pants.

3. Matt is happy to babysit so I can workout.


1. Lucy hates the "Kids club." I am consumed with guilt while sweating away on the treadmill while watching the foodnetwork.

2. My skin is so dried out from over-showering. One shower to ward off the offensive sleep smell before I hit the gym, and one after to remove the gallons of sweat,

3. Every time I schedule an orientation to "learn" the machines (why do they look like medieval torture instruments?) something happens. This morning- Lucy (fearing a visit to Kids Club) hacked up her breakfast and now has a runny nose. Perfect.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Happy 4th of July everyone! When I was a kid, we usually spent every 4th in Lavallette, New Jersey- visiting my Dad's family. I remember one year, when the local fireworks got rained out, and my Dad smuggled some contraband fireworks down to the beach, and put on his own display. It's amazing he has all of his own fingers left.

Today, we're rained out- but alas, no contraband fireworks. (Not until Matt pays off his student loans, anyway). We're going to barbecue up some steaks, and Matt told he me wants to "nap like a bear" this afternoon. Poor thing is getting killed at work this month.

It was exactly a year ago that we were holed up in a grungy Holiday Inn, awaiting our furniture. Despite the moving company promising to deliver our stuff in a 3 day window, it somehow didn't seem to make it out of California until 3 weeks later. We seem to have that kind of luck with movers. When we left San Diego, not only was our furniture late but this also happened to us: 2 kids got ear infections, I got the flu, I crashed our rental car, Matt crashed his car, my car broke down and we are lucky we stayed married. This all happened in ONE week. We laugh about it now, and shudder to think that we have to move again next summer, and the likelihood of something just as horrendous occurring is quite high. Argh. Happy Independence Day!

Monday, July 2, 2007

"This is Sewious."

Remember the other day when I said I wanted another kid? CURED, folks. Today, my 2 little ones implemented a slow suffocation of their Mommy- complete with non-stop bodily contact and endless rounds of the "Wonderpets" theme song. (Did Donald Rumsfeld compose this music to use as a form of torture at Guantanamo?)

I took the kids to the toy store today- to celebrate Annie's final debut into potty training. I am blessed with 2 little kids that like to "visit" toys in a store, but don't yet comprehend that they can take one home. (They also think hard boiled eggs are treats, I'm sick I tell ya). I gave them the ol' parking lot pep talk "just one toy you guys"and then we entered the disgusting, vile retail chain of Toys R Us.

When I was a kid- Toys R Us was a cool place to go. It was kind of like the retail version of Disneyland, and I was always so jazzed when I would fall asleep in the back seat of my grandparents Lincoln, and wake up when Pe-Pa was pulling into Geoffrey Giraffe's parking lot. Those days are long gone. Now, it looks like Walmart has beaten Geoffrey with a baseball bat and left him for dead. The merchandise looks like it is infested with germs (Buy 2, get impetigo for free!) and the employees are a sad sack of deadbeats that will stand around, drink Redbull, and laugh as customers line up to the ONE register open.

To add insult to injury, the toys are crap. (Why, oh why did I NOT go to Learning Express?) After wandering the store, my kids liked a Backyardigans guitar, a doll stroller, a Cinderella laptop, a $700 battery powered Jeep Explorer and a $4 ball.

They do still have a fucking hilarious Easter commercial.