Funny Bone To Pick

My five year old is an interesting kid. Nothing about her is by the book. No parenting article, wives tale, or well intended advice could ever really help me. She refused to poop in the potty until she was well past three. She'd happily ask me for a pull-up, squat down in anyone's presence and re-enact her own National Geographic tribal defecation regularly.

I tried everything. I coaxed. I offered ridiculous bribes. I made a chart. Nothing worked. Until one day, when I had her on the changing table, and I looked her right in the eye and said "Annie? This is gross. Really gross. I'd really like it if you'd go in the bathroom from now on."

She shrugged her shoulders and said, in a not-so-big-deal voice, "Ok."
And that was it.

Since we've moved, her quirks have really settled down. She doesn't insist I call her Pooh Bear anymore, she poops in an appropriate place, and she'll eat off a plate (used to be only bowls) and let's us use the words "cute and tasty" (formerly verboten).

Until today. I may or may not have mentioned that Annie has developed a deep seated fear of the Operation Game. (You know the one? Where you pull the guy's funny bone out and his nose lights up?) SHE HATES THIS GAME. Santa brought her one for Christmas, somehow thinking that given her family's livelihood, and Annie's obsession with anatomy that this will provide oodles of hours of entertainment.

Strike one for the big guy in the red suit. She gasped when she opened the box, and set it gently across the room and quietly told me that she would like to put it in the birthday closet where Mommy pilfers from when we're late for a birthday party. (Sorry five year old Heather. Hope he doesn't scare you as much as he did Annie!)

A few weeks ago, we were in Target, admiring their pool toys when Annie started hyperventilating. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and when she could finally put a word together, she trembled "operation!" in a scared, little voice that sounds strange coming from a kid with such a big personality. I mistakenly parked the cart near the game aisle, and the bright yellow box with red letters was proudly on display. Now she refuses to go to Target, which since she's home with me all summer, is saving us tons of money!

She then refused to go to Vons, our local grocery store, claiming Operation had taken a hold there as well. I told her this was ridiculous, that grocery stores did not sell games. I even took it one step further (because damn you Vons! You're the only one that carries St. Superey Sauvingnon Blanc) and called the store manager to ask him if they stocked the dreaded game. He emphatically told me no, and I visibly could see Annie breathe a sigh of relief as we piled into the car.

She even brought it up when we walked through the door. "No You-Know-What-Here Mommy!" she crowed, as she clutched my new Iphone and the killer Grocerystore IQ app that we now use to do our shopping. (she likes to check the boxes).

Things were good until we hit the breakfast cereal aisle. And then (drumroll please), that asshole Vons Store Manager neglected to tell me that they may not carry the Operation Game, but they DO carry Operation Fruit Snacks. (because what's tastier? Eating someone's gelatinous, infected funny bone?) There were a GAZILLION yellow boxes with red lettering and oversized pictures of body parts.

She totally lost it. Like, cause a spectacle LOST IT. Like, my Mommy has tied me to a chair and Freddie Krueger and Linda Blair are coming over for tea LOST it. I started giggling nervously and turned the boxes over as fast as I could. I cajoled and coaxed her into the next aisle, promising that we wouldn't have to go back there.

And like something out of a horror movie, that asshole Vons Store Manager must have decided that Operation Fruit Snacks were the item of the century. They were on display at the end of EVERY other aisle throughout the store. It was like Operation Fruit Snack was going to cure cancer. Or solve the Iraq war.

Or maybe? Maybe the Store Manager was huddled behind the customer service counter, laughing himself into oblivion. I'll get your Funnybone mister. And your little dog, Toto too.

Wish You Were There

Immediately after dropping our bags off at the house we were going to share with 4 other adults, 4 teenage girls, 4 little kids and one baby (our own Waltons episode?) we headed to the beach front Mexican place that served up margaritas by the pitcher. After my 3rd libation or so, I realized that Catalina must be like living in 1951. Your kids can play. They can walk across the street with a gaggle of other kids to buy themselves an ice cream cone. The group we became an honorary part of calls themselves "The Too Much Fun" club and they have been vacationing together for almost 25 years. It's a varied assortment of ages, but no matter where you go, someone in the club is there and keeping an eye out.

Someone from the group goes down to the beach at 5am and lays down blankets for the late stragglers to enjoy. Somebody else stays on the beach at 5pm when everyone else goes to take a shower and sets up beach chairs for the Beach Bingo the city runs every Tuesday and Thursday night. It was insanely awesome.

When we all decided to hit the local beach club one day, a TMF Club member showed up with their golf cart to give the little kids a ride. (it's a bit of a walk). Someone was always on hand to buy me a drink, lend me a beach chair or include me in a funny conversation. It was so nice- so, so nice that I kept waiting for it to turn into its own "Hotel California" video and watch these nice people morph into crazy demons, snatch my kidney or sell me on a pyramid scheme.

Did we have a great time? Yes. Do I want to go back next year? Absotootely. But I don't want to be the guy that has to get up at 5am.

26 Miles Across The Sea

I'm here! I'm here! Sorry for the lag folks, I took a couple of days off to recoup and relax. Umm... not exactly.

Out of the blue, old friends that we haven't seen in ten years unexpectedly contacted us and invited us to join them on Catalina island for two days. We jumped at the opportunity, and I'm slowly recovering.

It was fun. Serious fun. Like fraternity-party-with-kids-in-tow fun. But we're not really used to that. Matt and I like to vacation like senior citizens- lots of down time, a bit of sight seeing, lots of time for reading, an early-bird dinner and a prostate exam. This was a bit of a different scene.

We missed our first boat. Silly me thought she could rally her family and drive 45 minutes away to the dock to make an 8:30am boat. Didn't happen. If someone -who-shall-remain- nameless hadn't wanted to stop for coffee and missed the turnoff, we may have had a fighting chance, but no luck. When I went to the ticket counter to plead and beg (since all boats were sold out for the remainder of the day) something strange happened.

She upgraded us. To first class. Which included mucho bloody marys. I had to leave my youngest child with her as payment, but I figured, Hey! What's two bloody marys instead of college tuition!

To be continued...

Flounder

Every day this week, I promised my girls we would do something fun. In between bouts of work and laundry, here's how it boiled down.
Monday- yet another invitation to private, fancy beach. (apparently, my new friend doesn't know me well enough as she STILL invites us over). Lots of sand castles, sea anemones in tide pools and overheard conversations of homes in Geneva and sailing in France. I still think this place is not real, and is really Hollywood staging a set for a new Danielle Steele miniseries. I tried hard not to look like an extra from "My Name is Earl" that happened upon the wrong soundstage.

Tuesday- We swam in our pool. The kids insist on playing "Little Mermaid" and somehow I always wind up playing Flounder. I can't wait until we can all watch "Animal House" together.

Wednesday- We stopped by to visit a friend that has a nearby lake with ducks. We fed them lots of bread, and sang countless versions of "Five Little Ducks." Then we came home and ate one of their cousins for dinner (roasted chicken).

Thursday- we hit the library, where Annie loudly announced to everyone within a twenty mile radius that she loves "Junie B. Jones" and has two loose teeth.

Friday- Today the girls stayed in their jammies and played "Little People" for most of the day. We did make it to swim lessons, where someone else had to be Flounder for awhile.

Next week? We're finally getting our oven installed, my Grandmother's arriving and I'm supposed to go see some friends in Catalina. Summer is looking up!

Um, Irony? Nice To Meet You.

I look at my last post and laugh. Besides sounding like one of those Xmas card letters you get that make you want to slowly poke your eye out with a letter opener, the Gods of Summer have taken their revenge and turned a bunch of stuff upside down.

I can't go into a lot of detail yet, but it's taxing, and tolling, and exhausting to say the least. I'm keeping it away from the kids for now, and trying to be present for them and let them play in the pool. We've gone back to the beach, but I think the porpoises could sense my high blood pressure and stayed far, far away.

My husband has been away all week, and I thought it would be a good idea to keep George out of his crate. In case a burglar might appear at o'dark thirty, my plan was to have George take him apart limb by limb. Instead, he quietly and stealthily ate a pair of my jeans. And Lucy's ear plugs. And farted. Not so quietly.

So I'm reading a lot of "Junie B Jones" and laughing with my kids. I'm trying to take things one day at a time. I'm trying to look for the good in things, and remember that life is more than what certain folks make it out to be.

And apparently, I'm going shopping for a new pair of jeans.

And We're Off! School, That Is.

Summer is off with a bang. The kids celebrated their last day of school on Thursday, and I picked them up with surprise guests: my sister-in-law, nephew and niece! They were here for a brief visit from Arizona. We quickly hightailed it in the car, and made the hour long trek to Los Angeles to visit the La Brea Tar Pits.

This place was awesome. Smack dab in the middle of the city is an area of asphalt pits that hold gobs and gobs of prehistoric bones. There is a small museum with fossils of sabre tooth tigers, Columbian Mammoths, wolves, condors, lions- you name it!

The next day, we took George to the infamous dog beach, and managed not to lose him. It was hilarious to once again see all of the pooches in their element. Even better- around 3pm we saw a pod of porpoises swimming by. They even started body surfing in the waves. The kids dug in the sand, screamed at the waves and got their toes wet. At one point, Annie came running up to me, kissed my cheek and said "Happy Summer Vacation, Mommy!". I'm sure next week I'll want to rethink my idea of a camp-free summer, but right now? We're in the honeymoon phase of summer.

That night, I arranged for a babysitter so the grownups once again made the trek to Los Angeles- this time to try Craft, Tom Colicchio's restaurant. We ate fois gras, homemade pasta, pork belly, shortribs, steak, risotto, morels, bread and butter pudding and a blackberry tart. This doesn't count all of the "amuse bouches" they kept gifting the table---- a mushroom custard with onion marmalade to start, a lemon meringue shot glass before dessert and pate de fruits and truffles after dinner. With the check, they brought us all blackberry muffins to take home. Excessive, but fun.

Today, we took the kids to a minor league baseball game in Long Beach. We ate hotdogs and roasted peanuts, and tried to explain the game to a 3 and 5 year old. We made it through 4 innings before they grew tired of eating and got bored. Minor league is pretty hilarious- kind of like watching the first half of the movie "Major League" in person. Sans Charlie Sheen.

So that's the last four days, in a nutshell. Methinks the next week will be a bit tame by comparison.

And No, I'm Not Taking Anti-depressants

Although technically summer doesn't "officially" start until a week or so from now, tonight it felt like summer. We had rain this morning, that opened up to a sunny afternoon with a sky filled with big, fat marshmallow clouds. The wind blew a bit, the grass seemed greener and everyone just seemed....mellow. Calmer.

My kids ate a late dinner, which didn't feel so late because the sun was still streaming through the windows. After they finished, they ran, in their barefeet, outside. They played ball with their puppy while I pulled a few weeds. The moon decided to make an early appearance, and as my kids climbed a tree and I swept the driveway, I remembered that feeling as a kid. The feeling of having the whole summer ahead of you. Of staying up late and sneaking in extra bits of fun.

My girls decided to wear matching night gowns to bed (the matching dresses they wore to school didn't seem to curb their twin habit) and they made up a new game. Each one takes turns "rocking" the other one to pretend sleep in the rocking chair- complete with very off kilter lullabies. It was a great ending to a really, really nice day.