Random Updates

Eddie made a new friend. Collin leaving his treasured Buzz Light Year out for some nap time snuggles is the least he could do considering the constant torture he forces the poor dog to endure which consists of stepping on him, pulling on him and refusing to pet him. Eddie pretty much adores Collin and Collin thinks, like the rest of us, that Eddie just plain old licks too much.

I fixed Collin's hair the best that I could. It's still got a pretty weird spot in the back but it's not as noticable. When you cut someone's hair in your kitchen, you get the vaccuum treatment at the end. Kind of fun, huh? Collin is taking swim classes on base. He loves them. His new teacher is named Dylan. He liked Miss Polly better but he won't admit how much he likes having a man for a teacher. He describes Dylan as "hairy like Santa Claus." His favorite part of swimming class? Sticking his face under water to grab enough water to spit it at people. Or? Splashing the other kids. Yep, I have the mean kid.

It Still Saves Money

I've been cutting Bryon's hair and Collin's hair lately. It's not a daily occurrence, mind you, of course; but since I bought the clippers, it's sort of a, "hey, need a haircut?" kind of thing. It saves us a bit of cash and makes me feel less guilty that my hair cuts cost $75. I'm still a little apprehensive about cutting the boy's hair because he's a little squirmy and I am still overly attached to every hair on his head.

The squirm factor led to my first major haircutting mistake this week. As you can see, he moved. I got all the way to the trimming bit over the ears when Collin, apparently alerted to an alien abduction occurring outside, quickly turned his head jerkily to the side.

Oh well, his problem. I feel no shame at having a kid that looks like an early nineties throw back. That's what I've decided his "look" is. I think people have vainly decided that he asked for one of those shaved designs in his head, like initials of zig zags and then chickened out. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it. No way do they think that his incompetent mother cut his hair or couldn't get him to sit still. That would be impossible. Besides, if she could get him to be still, she'd have a better picture of his head, right?

In other news, he's not bothered by looking completely foolish; in fact, he relishes it to complete abandon and refuses to believe he looks in any way ridiculous at any point in his life. He has no sense of right and wrong when dressing himself. Exhibit A. (Normally, I don't bother fixing said incidences of inside-outedness and/or backwardness as it just causes meltdowns that aren't worth my time and I figure, eh? What the hell?).

Such tomfoolery and backwardness has rubbed off on the animal kingdom of our home as well, as cats and dogs have become not only friends but bed mates. Everyone all together now: awwwww.

Oh and in case you are wondering why I didn't just cut Collin's hair all evenly to match my "mistake," it's because I didn't have a comb on the clippers when I was trimming around the ears, so I'd have had to buzz his whole head down to the nub. I just can't bear to do it. I can't. Nope. No how. If I can't run my hand through that mop and tousle his hair, I think I'd die.

Why Collin is Taking his Nap at 4 p.m.

I'm not sure I care if it makes it hard to put him to bed tonight. I need a break, and I don't mean a "go to the bathroom" kind of break. I mean an honest break for at least thirty minutes. I decided to surprise Daddy by clearing out 75% of our yard and putting in the seeds in bought.

As my Dad so kindly pointed out, "do you want to eat Cilantro you dog pissed on?" So, I took his suggestion and bought pots since my dog is less likely to pee on pots. Oh and folks, don't adjust your monitor, that is in fact, 75% of our yard, as you recall.

The project started with pulling up these random bulbs that are sprouting all over our yard. There were about 40 of them or so. I thought I could use my little garden trowel to pull them out. It broke. The smallest bulb is pictured here. The largest one was about the size of Collin's head.

I don't like to point out when my mother in-law is wrong about anything because she's the best darn mother-in-law anyone could ask for and she's generally smart on all things plant and otherwise, but the agapanthas she was sure were growing in my yard, turned out, in fact, to be onions. This was determined by their sheer stink factor, the fact that they were onions and well, there's no mistaking an onion when you see and smell one.

Anyway, pots o' herbs about to grow here. And some pretty flowers in some other pots there, eh?

And, for good measure, I put some ground cover down that is not grass so it doesn't need water but it has flowers on it. The goal being total covering in oh, twenty years. I have a vision. It will be pretty eventually Ahhh, the desert. It's pretty "enough" now though, huh? It is better than before. Trust me.


So, now I'm filthy, can't move forgot to eat lunch and have sunburn. You're welcome, honey. No wonder you kept claiming you didn't have time to do this.

I Won't Show You My Butt. Don't Even Ask.

So, you know we've been doing P90X around here. It's a cross between torture and fun. Fun, because I love to work out. Torture because it's testing my love. I bought it because I can't run right now. My specialist is sending me to a specialist. Apparently, my foot has decided to put me on running hiatus and I have to accept that; so instead of resting, I sought out the hardest workout ever that is not, indeed running.

Anyway, Collin wants to know why I make a sad sound when I exercise. I think he means why do I grunt? Um, it's because it's crazy hard; like don't eat an hour before you do it, kind of hard. I'll admit, I was unprepared and arrogant that I would be able to handle it with somewhat of ease. I mean, come on; I run! I do sit ups! I do push ups! I squat! Yeah, right.

One quarter of the way through the program, I am happy to report that I have not lost a single pound. Bryon has, of course. Men and their metabolisms. We planned it this way, but it is still irksome. I have begun to manage to not swear at the Ab Ribber DVD that has to be accomplished every other day. (A note here: ABS EVERY OTHER FREAKING DAY!!! WHAT WERE THEY THINKING!!!!) And, I am willing to show the universe my stomach-in-progress. I think that's a testament, don't you?

Alas, I realized this morning as I prepared to do my workout that it might be harder to take a picture of yourself in the bathroom than it is to work out. The flash, making a stupid face, all that jazz. It was quite the challenge. What the hell, I figured that an embarrassing picture of my half-naked self more more than makes up for how stupid it is. Besides, even if my belly isn't the greatest yet, I take this fact into account: that kid in all those other pictures...HE came out of it, and man, he's huge.

Oh and the blurry picture. Sorry, it was virtually impossible to get my arms. Maybe for the next few weeks I'll try to get both Bryon and I. If he'll consent. I'll trick him. "Hey honey, hold this soup can, riiiiiiight here, just like this." Now me. I guess I was just too lazy to set to the timer. Oh well, you get the idea. And tickets to the small gun show. Oh! Had to.

And so as I get ready to post this, running through my head is, is someone going to think: she is being vain. I guess for anyone who actually knows me, I wouldn't have to qualify that. There's vanity and there's taking pride in your accomplishments. But, when you put something that feels like an accomplishment out to the world, you suddenly feel like you have to qualify it by hiding behind, "but I'm not trying to brag," especially if it's about our own bodies in this world of obesity today. Guess what world, Bryon and I are working our butts off over here and it's showing.

More Painful than Giving Birth

Family Circle often has these "ideas" for crafty things. I can usually tell that they are full of s-h-i-t on how easy they are but that doesn't stop me from saying to Bryon, "hey, doesn't that look like a cool idea?" Usually he responds, "You aren't crafty." My interest in said project usually wans before I finish the issue and the house heaves a collective sigh of relief.

This month's issue had a paragraph, no kidding a freaking paragraph with ONE photo, of the craft you will see below. I knew in my heart it would involve swearing, multiple "drafts" and a finished product that looked nothing like their original; yet, I wanted to try.

So, here's what I'm thinking: if you too would like something that resembles a "tree" in your child's bedroom, I would be happy to come over and put one up for you, as I have plenty of extra supplies, and in the process your child will learn valuable new vocabulary, how to fudge-measure and how to throw scissors and exacto knives so they stick in cardboard from across the room. I will do all this for the cool price of one million dollars per "tree."

Please note that at no time doI claim that your "tree" will at any point resemble an actual tree. The point of this "tree" is that I will scew some hooks into the "bark" and Collin will have a place to hang sundry items. I also want to put a height stick on there so we finally have a place to keep track of his growth. He's pretty keen on it. He thinks it looks beautiful. He's three and not very versed on the difference between beautiful and ugly.

Or, he was afraid to tell me the truth.

Notes:
Elapsed Time to Completion: 3 hours
Number of "trees" attempted before accepting this was the best it would get: 3
Number of times I screamed at Collin: 0 (number of times I thought about it--2,999)
Number of times I actually just "screamed": 3
Number of times Contact Paper stuck to itself: 5
Number of times I swore: 0 (Hooray for me)
Number of times I grrr'ed: Lost count

Limp Lung

"What a difference a day makes" the old saying goes, right? Grandpa and Nana Debby went to Disneyland with us and we got a new blaster to replace the one that Collin actually wore out from overuse (considering he actually never stopped pressing the button for 7,986 hours straight, I'm not surprised), got a pretzel and made a stupid face.

Twelve hours later, I'm no doctor but I'm pretty sure he had a fever. You tell me, based on those cheeks, if he had one? Not much changed in the stupid face department, though.

So yeah, he did have a fever. And, according to the doctor, Strep Throat. Apparently, according to the culture that came back, however, he did not. He was on antibiotics for four days but thanks to his limp lung problem, he spent Friday in the E.R., where they told us he had croup, yet again, and gave him steroids, yet again. By Monday, as per his M.O. he wasn't keeping anything down because he was coughing 99% of his breaths.

The good news? He's gotten better at using his bucket; even in conjunction with a meal. Isn't that a special skill to have?

We are finally armed with referrals to pulmonolgy to check into what's going on with the little guy's lungs and as to why he can't seem to get a sniffle without it settling into his lungs every single time. Kids aren't supposed to be this sick every time they get a teeny, minor infection. It's painful to watch, and it's awful to watch him get over it every time. Plus, let's be honest, barf is gross. Oh, and I don't like my kid on steriods to get over being sick all the time. Apparently, they can stunt his growth. I think he's already got the deck stacked against him on that, don't you?

Chasing the White Rabbit

We went to the "dinosaur museum" again yesterday. This is otherwise known as the "Natural History Museum." Adjacent to the Natural History Museum is the "green button museum;" or, the "California Science Center." I'm thinking that Collin is a little young for the Science Center since the application of the green buttons is a little beyond his grasp a this point but boy holly he sure does like pushing them. Thank goodness it's free. Suggested donation my foot.

Anyway, there is a rose garden connecting these two very lovely, very free activities that my son enjoys oh so much. You know what else my son enjoys? Schizophrenia. Namely, the delusion that the White Rabbit is pretty much everywhere these days. Throw in an actual rose garden and crap, he's bound to be bounding all over the place, in hot pursuit of than damnable Red Queen. This sends my boy in circles chasing the invisible fuzzy thing and turning him into Collin the sweat-ball.

I think I should start playing Jefferson Airplane on full blast in the car all the time and see if he ever notices.

But, since Daddy was home on the long weekend, it was cool to have Mommy in so many pictures for a change.

Despite the tradition of having so many pictures of Collin refusing to cooperate despite the lovely backdrop of a freaking rose garden. Thus, I look like a kidnapper or like I'm taking pictures with a stranger who resembles me in a strange manner.

Still, despite is non-cooperation, I think all pictures of him are adorable and worth saving and I didn't shove his face in the dirt, not even once. And, he still got ice cream on the way home.

Collin's Wild and Crazy Holiday Weekend

A weekend can't start without a fashion statement jacket. Thanks Nana for sending Collin a 'pace Ranger Jacket. No, we 'till can't say the letter "s" at the beginning of words with any real consistency. Buzz Light Year forgives him though. And, once Mommy removed ALL visible tags, he was pretty convinced that the jacket was no longer painful to wear. Why do kids insist that tags are like acid?


Since Collin wakes up EVERY stinking morning and says "I want to go to the karim" or "I want to go to the dinosaur museum," we figured it would be fun to take him to the aquarium. What? You didn't know that's what karim meant? We also thought it would be fun to attempt to push him into the shark petting tank. Unfortunately, he's awfully strong for a kid his size and despite the slipperiness of the edge, he managed to stay on dry land.


Logically enough, there is a large bird enclosure at the aquarium (insert sarcasm here). Collin seems perplexed by this as well. See.


Despite the friendliness (read: hunger) of the birds, Collin was largely suspicious of the fact that the birds were more interested in pecking everything in their vicinity than in being friends and decided that he did not really want a bird to perch on any part of his body for fear that a bird, as we learned later, might bite his face off. Note his expression of "nu-uh," vs. Mommy's expression of, "oh, but it would make such a cute picture," or, "don't you want to hold a birdie? it won't hurt you."


I think he might have had the right idea. Don't you? This is sweet little birdie eating my face. Well, my ear. He didn't like my ear. Nor did he like my necklace, my hair, my sunglasses or any other bit of me he sampled. I think he was pissed we didn't spend the three dollars on nectar.


After the aquarium, we went for a walk at White Point nature preserve where Grandpa told Collin what Collin believes to be lies about swallows burrowing in the ground. Collin has never heard of birds making nests in the ground before so he's pretty sure that Grandpa is a damn liar.


Collin's wild obsession with weaponry has taken a turn for the worse lately. It's a little upsetting but Mommy is ignoring it. Notice the double fisting it here. Light saber and Blaster. If I'd let him, he'd take that blaster to the bathroom with him. But I digress. Grandpa and Collin engaged in an epic, and I do mean epic blaster, light saber, and sword battle while I made dinner. Grandpa is still recovering.
There was tickling involved, of course, but that was the least of it. I think the tickling breaks were just to give Grandpa a break from the real action.

I mean, look at the sweat on this kid. He's not messing around. He had to break Grandpa in early. He's here for over a week. He had to make sure he knew what "playtime" means. Right?

Bring it Grandpa! You are Rachel's Father! Tee hee.

Excuse the red eye. Mommy is too lazy to correct it properly. I actually did correct it but lost the version I saved it to. Anyway. This is the result of the epic battle. Can you tell he had fun?

So, the next morning...I'm not saying Collin has any reason to call Grandpa a liar or anything but Collin's got strawberry plants in our backyard and bugs ate all his strawberries. It's sad and terrible. He was bummed. Grandpa went out and bought strawberries last night and dumped a handful on the plant and took the boy out there this morning and told him the plant produced a bumper crop. Of course the boy was fooled and overjoyed. Damn liar, I tell you. A good Grandpa, and a good trick though.

Today we went on a torture excursion. It wasn't meant to be though. This morning they were going to ring the Korean Friendship Bell. I guess they only ring it twice a year. Apparently, what was supposed to be twenty minutes of speeches turned into over an hour of boring dignitaries dragging on into endless droning. It was not something Collin wanted to sit though. Let's be honest. It was not something ANYONE wanted to sit through. We thought they'd NEVER ring the bell. But, I got a kiss.

Thankfully, it was before the snail got a kiss.

Yep, this snail. Collin played with (tortured) this snail for a good ten minutes. The snail? He is quite possibly the dumbest snail on the planet. He never once retracted his squishy little head. He kept sticking it out further and further and further to see who this adorable little kid was that was playing with him. Stupid snail. Curious, do snails have brains?

Oh, and I got a flower. What a morning. The snail kissing and the flower? STILL waiting for the bell to ring. It was actually amazing how long people kept talking about how they were going to ring the bell and actually not ringing it. When they rang it, it was loud. That was kind of it. We're taking Collin to his first fireworks show tonight. We'll see how he likes it. Or, if he can make it. He's not a real night owl.

They've Come a Long Way, Baby

Collin and Gracie. Gracie and Collin. Oh, it's been a long and tumultuous relationship. They've had their ups and downs.

They've had their trips to the zoo (during which their mothers got lost and spent three quarters of the trip lost and behind the zoo-proper on the zoo service road).

They've had their playground spats and hugs.

They've had their phases where they've been best buds and their moments where Kari and I have briefly thought that maybe for the sake of their safety they shouldn't hang out any more.

But, since Kari and I like to hang out so much, we've pushed on and forced them together. When she sent me this picture of their recent trip to Disney the other day (read: our recent trip together) It just reminded me how long they've been friends. It's going to be rough on all of us when we have to PCS.

Seriously, from pacifiers and diapers to Gracie's first time on the Matterhorn! Look how OLD they are!