While we were in Phoenix, we took a day trip to Tucson, to check out the town. Matt had an interview there, and we wanted to get a feel for the place. Tucson is a unique place--- it doesn't try to mask its desert landscape (unlike Phoenix, which feels like an annex of California). It's surrounded by mountains, and with the cactus, and the scrubby landscape- it feels like a Neil Young video or something. I really, really liked it.
We started our day by eating at Mia Nidito, a famous, traditional Mexican food joint. It's been open since the 50's, and President Clinton ate there so many times, they have named a special for him (Presidente Especiale- which must have been created before his bypass, because it's something like a tamale, a burrito, a tostada and 2 enchiladas). George W. Bush felt so left out, he finally paid them a visit and insisted on hanging his picture on the wall- with the inscription "You need a few good Republicans hanging on this wall." Despite it being a local institution, and thus having a 45 minute wait at 3pm in the afternoon- we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
Driving through the foothills of Tucson, we were struck by the beauty of the desert. Desert is an acquired taste--- some folks either grow to love it- others think it is terribly ugly. We happen to love it. The light is truly different there- everything seems starkly in focus- and sharper and crisper than anywhere else. On our drive back to Phoenix, we had the sun setting on one side of us- and a full moon romancing us on the other. It looks like you are driving through the bottom of the ocean- with all of the water sucked out of it. When I told this to Matt, he told me that at one time, it was the bottom of the ocean- so there.
It did feel good to see palm trees, bouganvilla and Trader Joes again. No matter where I land next year, the Southwest will always feel like home.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Have Yourself A Smelly Little Christmas
Dear Santa,
It was so nice of you to take such good care of my girls this year, but can I clarify a few things for next year? I know my girls only asked for lipgloss (and a remote controlled robot, but whatever). It was awesome of you to run to the corner gas station and clear them out of chapsticks, but next year- can we get PRETEND makeup? It seems my 2 little girls love to take their chapsticks to bed, and this makes for a sticky night time routine.
Also, not to sound ungrateful, but even though my 4 year old was more than ecstatic to find the Barbie perfume in her Christmas stocking---- any chance of making this stuff smell less like a Hannah Montana Whorehouse? The smallest dab reeks of teen angst, and I can't get the scent out of my house. It's giving me a Barbie pink headache.
The girls are in love with their dress up dresses, and their princess high heeled shoes. Scarily enough- my 2 year old walks better in pink plastic stilettos than I do. Please do not bring any pint sized stripper poles next year. We'll stick with the marabou trimmed shoes, for now.
Much Love,
Kristen
It was so nice of you to take such good care of my girls this year, but can I clarify a few things for next year? I know my girls only asked for lipgloss (and a remote controlled robot, but whatever). It was awesome of you to run to the corner gas station and clear them out of chapsticks, but next year- can we get PRETEND makeup? It seems my 2 little girls love to take their chapsticks to bed, and this makes for a sticky night time routine.
Also, not to sound ungrateful, but even though my 4 year old was more than ecstatic to find the Barbie perfume in her Christmas stocking---- any chance of making this stuff smell less like a Hannah Montana Whorehouse? The smallest dab reeks of teen angst, and I can't get the scent out of my house. It's giving me a Barbie pink headache.
The girls are in love with their dress up dresses, and their princess high heeled shoes. Scarily enough- my 2 year old walks better in pink plastic stilettos than I do. Please do not bring any pint sized stripper poles next year. We'll stick with the marabou trimmed shoes, for now.
Much Love,
Kristen
Thursday, December 27, 2007
It's All in the Numbers...
3 suitcases unpacked, waiting to be put away.
1200 Christmas presents, littering the living room- no room to be put away.
2 cookie exchange cookies eaten for breakfast (dried cherry chocolate chip, in fact)
1 toddler, wearing Ariel underwear, pink butterfly socks and Sleeping Beauty high heels- and nothing else.
And so it begins--- the last potty training marathon of my child rearing years.
100 Lysol disinfectant wipes, ready and waiting.
1200 Christmas presents, littering the living room- no room to be put away.
2 cookie exchange cookies eaten for breakfast (dried cherry chocolate chip, in fact)
1 toddler, wearing Ariel underwear, pink butterfly socks and Sleeping Beauty high heels- and nothing else.
And so it begins--- the last potty training marathon of my child rearing years.
100 Lysol disinfectant wipes, ready and waiting.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
From the Mouths of Preschoolers
What a Christmas! We flew back from Phoenix this morning, where we crashed at my older brother's house. Since my little brother is still in Iraq, we thought it best to distract Granny with all four of her grandchildren on Christmas morning. It worked! They were... simply put- hilarious. Only a few power struggles, a couple of time outs and one incident involving Annie, a hammer and some dings in a wall- but hey! That's what Home Depot is for.
Every holiday dinner, since I was a kid- we ring the bell. It's a tradition started by my grandparents, and one we continue today. Usually, we are all wearing our paper crowns on our heads (the ones that came in our Christmas crackers) and it's your moment to stop eating and give a toast. It's ALWAYS my favorite part of Christmas. (after presents, of course). This year, it was so darling to see my 4 year old daughter and my 4 year old nephew give their toasts. (They were born exactly one day apart.)
Here's Annie's toast: (she has a purple crown on her head, worn "ghetto style" with it drooping down over her eyes).
"Merry Christmas! I want to say that I like my family to be nice to me." (someone inserts joke about a hammer here). "I love having dinner with you guys, and I really loved making orange juice with you this morning." (My Dad brought oranges from his trees, and the kids all took turns at the juicer).
Here is Jack's toast. (he is not wearing a crown, has not had a nap and has had people in his house for 4 days):
"Eat your food. Drink your drink. Then go back to your own houses."
And to all, a goodnight!
Every holiday dinner, since I was a kid- we ring the bell. It's a tradition started by my grandparents, and one we continue today. Usually, we are all wearing our paper crowns on our heads (the ones that came in our Christmas crackers) and it's your moment to stop eating and give a toast. It's ALWAYS my favorite part of Christmas. (after presents, of course). This year, it was so darling to see my 4 year old daughter and my 4 year old nephew give their toasts. (They were born exactly one day apart.)
Here's Annie's toast: (she has a purple crown on her head, worn "ghetto style" with it drooping down over her eyes).
"Merry Christmas! I want to say that I like my family to be nice to me." (someone inserts joke about a hammer here). "I love having dinner with you guys, and I really loved making orange juice with you this morning." (My Dad brought oranges from his trees, and the kids all took turns at the juicer).
Here is Jack's toast. (he is not wearing a crown, has not had a nap and has had people in his house for 4 days):
"Eat your food. Drink your drink. Then go back to your own houses."
And to all, a goodnight!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The Good... The Bad & The Crazy
Christmas Trees
The Good: Filled with meaningful ornaments, delights kids every morning with "oohs and wows". Fun and festive.
The Bad: I dread having to pack up all of the ornaments, take the tree apart, vacuum up the fake needles and shuffle everything off to the garage.
PMS
The Good: Take monthly opportunity to let loose all of the pent up rage, bitterness and frustration that may be festering about. I feel better, family just thinks I'm crazy.
The Bad: dealing with all of the pent up rage, bitterness and frustration.
Opi Lincoln Park After Dark nail polish
The Good: I bought this to make my footsies look hip and stylish and fun.
The Bad: bottle smashed on tile floor of my bathroom and did not make my bathrobe, or bath mat hip, stylish and fun.
Starbucks
The Good: Decaf iced vanilla latte with nonfat milk so very, very good.
The Bad: When moron barrista gives me iced regular coffee, so very very bad.
The Good: Filled with meaningful ornaments, delights kids every morning with "oohs and wows". Fun and festive.
The Bad: I dread having to pack up all of the ornaments, take the tree apart, vacuum up the fake needles and shuffle everything off to the garage.
PMS
The Good: Take monthly opportunity to let loose all of the pent up rage, bitterness and frustration that may be festering about. I feel better, family just thinks I'm crazy.
The Bad: dealing with all of the pent up rage, bitterness and frustration.
Opi Lincoln Park After Dark nail polish
The Good: I bought this to make my footsies look hip and stylish and fun.
The Bad: bottle smashed on tile floor of my bathroom and did not make my bathrobe, or bath mat hip, stylish and fun.
Starbucks
The Good: Decaf iced vanilla latte with nonfat milk so very, very good.
The Bad: When moron barrista gives me iced regular coffee, so very very bad.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Feels Like Yesterday...
Tomorrow Lucy has her just-over-six-month checkup with her Ear, Nose & Throat Surgeon. Last May, Lucy had tubes put in her ears. The six ear infections in six months kind of indicated something was up with her ears, and the tubes helped tremendously. She's only had one infection since then, and it was right after the surgery. However, even knowing that this was an outpatient procedure, and even knowing that my husband is a surgeon and assured me this was no big deal, I sufficiently freaked out the day of her surgery.
We don't have any family in town- and I really wanted Matt to come to the hospital. As luck would have it, the procedure was scheduled for the same day as Annie's Mother's celebration at school. We didn't want her to be the only kid without a parent there, so we all went to the hospital as a family. Matt stayed with Annie in the waiting room, and I went back to the pre-op room with Lucy. There were probably 10 other kids there, with their parents, waiting to have tubes put in, or their adenoids removed. The kids were in heaven- they were playing with tricycles, LIttle Tike cars, wagons and each other. The parents all smiled at one another, and I started to pace the room nervously.
At around 8:00am, the surgical teams started coming in. Texas Children's has a policy that they like the parents to connect with the surgical teams prior to the big event. So, nurses, anesthesiologists and surgeons all mingled into the room, and it started to look like a big, happy medical cocktail party- complete with small talk, sans vodka. All of the other parents looked remarkably composed.... yours truly did not. This is about the time I started to freak.
I smiled at the nurse, made nice with the anesthesiologist, but when her surgeon walked up to me and shook my hand- I started to shake all over. He put his hand on my back, and I started that awful girlie half laugh and half cry- and sputtered to him "Dr. XYZ, You have to promise me you will take good care of her. I'm not sure if you know this, but She's a VERY special girl." I'm sure all of the parents around me were like "Oh yeah, our kids are normal, but that one over there- with the freaky mom, she needs VIP treatment."
Luckily, Lucy's surgeon is not only well versed in removing icky Elmer's- like glue from ears and inserting tubes, he can also dialogue with panicked parents. "Kristen," he assured me, "I will treat her like my own." I walked down the hallway, and passed my baby to the nurse just outside the door of the operating room. Then, I'm embarrassed to admit- I ran like a banshee back to the waiting room so I couldn't hear if she cried or not.
Matt and Annie were playing a video game- and quite oblivious to the drama playing out in my head. Around the time they were supposed to call me back in to the post-op recovery room, Matt decided he had to go to the men's room. I looked at him in disbelief, and my look must have conveyed my wish for the fastest mens room trip possible, because he was back, in like three seconds. Of course, it was 2 seconds too late, as they had paged me the minute the bathroom room door closed.
Shooting him the dirtiest look possible for even having a bladder, I ran down the hallway as fast as I could. There was my baby, swaddled in a blanket, in the arms of a nurse. They passed her to me, and gently ushered me into a rocking chair. I rocked her, and sang to her, as she shrugged off the last of her morphine induced sleep. She looked pale, she looked sleepy, but she looked ok.
Tomorrow, she gets her ears checked. Statistically, one, or two of the tubes will have probably fallen out. (We're pretty sure the right one did). Which means, Dear Reader, that I get to relive all of this loveliness once again. This time, Matt's going to have to hold it.
We don't have any family in town- and I really wanted Matt to come to the hospital. As luck would have it, the procedure was scheduled for the same day as Annie's Mother's celebration at school. We didn't want her to be the only kid without a parent there, so we all went to the hospital as a family. Matt stayed with Annie in the waiting room, and I went back to the pre-op room with Lucy. There were probably 10 other kids there, with their parents, waiting to have tubes put in, or their adenoids removed. The kids were in heaven- they were playing with tricycles, LIttle Tike cars, wagons and each other. The parents all smiled at one another, and I started to pace the room nervously.
At around 8:00am, the surgical teams started coming in. Texas Children's has a policy that they like the parents to connect with the surgical teams prior to the big event. So, nurses, anesthesiologists and surgeons all mingled into the room, and it started to look like a big, happy medical cocktail party- complete with small talk, sans vodka. All of the other parents looked remarkably composed.... yours truly did not. This is about the time I started to freak.
I smiled at the nurse, made nice with the anesthesiologist, but when her surgeon walked up to me and shook my hand- I started to shake all over. He put his hand on my back, and I started that awful girlie half laugh and half cry- and sputtered to him "Dr. XYZ, You have to promise me you will take good care of her. I'm not sure if you know this, but She's a VERY special girl." I'm sure all of the parents around me were like "Oh yeah, our kids are normal, but that one over there- with the freaky mom, she needs VIP treatment."
Luckily, Lucy's surgeon is not only well versed in removing icky Elmer's- like glue from ears and inserting tubes, he can also dialogue with panicked parents. "Kristen," he assured me, "I will treat her like my own." I walked down the hallway, and passed my baby to the nurse just outside the door of the operating room. Then, I'm embarrassed to admit- I ran like a banshee back to the waiting room so I couldn't hear if she cried or not.
Matt and Annie were playing a video game- and quite oblivious to the drama playing out in my head. Around the time they were supposed to call me back in to the post-op recovery room, Matt decided he had to go to the men's room. I looked at him in disbelief, and my look must have conveyed my wish for the fastest mens room trip possible, because he was back, in like three seconds. Of course, it was 2 seconds too late, as they had paged me the minute the bathroom room door closed.
Shooting him the dirtiest look possible for even having a bladder, I ran down the hallway as fast as I could. There was my baby, swaddled in a blanket, in the arms of a nurse. They passed her to me, and gently ushered me into a rocking chair. I rocked her, and sang to her, as she shrugged off the last of her morphine induced sleep. She looked pale, she looked sleepy, but she looked ok.
Tomorrow, she gets her ears checked. Statistically, one, or two of the tubes will have probably fallen out. (We're pretty sure the right one did). Which means, Dear Reader, that I get to relive all of this loveliness once again. This time, Matt's going to have to hold it.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Somebody's Watching Me
A family friend gave us this for Christmas this year. I had my girls open him up last night, and they have named him Sprinkle. I was a little worried he would freak them out a bit, but no worries on that front. The girls are OBSESSED wth Sprinkle. They run in from playing outside, to yell hello at him. They constantly ask me when he will fly back to Santa, and tonight I caught Annie faking being asleep- in hopes of seeing him fly off.
He's quite handy too. Today, after Annie refused to clean up the playroom, I brought Sprinkle in to witness her protests first hand. Before I could even threaten one little threat, she was tossing toys in baskets faster than you can say "Holy cow, thank God for creepy elf dolls."
This is the coolest thing EVER. If you don't have one, I strongly suggest you do- and Santa's little helpers didn't pay me to say that. I've gotta go help Sprinkle "fly" to a new location now...
He's quite handy too. Today, after Annie refused to clean up the playroom, I brought Sprinkle in to witness her protests first hand. Before I could even threaten one little threat, she was tossing toys in baskets faster than you can say "Holy cow, thank God for creepy elf dolls."
This is the coolest thing EVER. If you don't have one, I strongly suggest you do- and Santa's little helpers didn't pay me to say that. I've gotta go help Sprinkle "fly" to a new location now...
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