To My Audience

My dearth of posts reflects the un-wittiness I’ve been feeling lately.  Every time I sit down to write I think to myself, “Booney…nobody cares about what you have to say.  Talking about the woman you stood in line behind at the post office is dull reporting; even if she was wearing a muumuu and had a cat perched on her shoulder like Iago.  Does she think she’s Jafar, only with a walker instead of a cane? Is she attempting to steal a magic lamp and her cat is the secret weapon?  Nevermind.  Quit thinking about it, nobody cares. And nobody cares that you scarfed half a pan of 7-layer bean dip in one sitting and nearly suffered an intestinal explosion from the subsequent gas.  It’s lame.  In fact, you’re lame.  IN FACT, you probably don’t even have any readers so move on already.  Now get away from the computer and finish your 30 Rock episode on Netflix.  While eating more bean dip.” 

Then I do that instead of blog.

I was talking to my sissy on the phone last night and she reprimanded me for not posting lately.   As it turns out, she and my nieces LOVE my blog.  LOVE, as in severe disappointment and agony if I don’t post regularly.   I can't do that to my lovely nieces and sister.  They need me.  They need to hear about my dog humping my leg the other night even though he’s old.  He’s apparently made the transition from merely being old to being old and pervy.  I’m so proud. 

My nieces want me to tell them about how I encouraged Eva to pee in the shower one morning and now she won’t stop.  She exclaims with delight, “I’m peeing in the shower, Mama!” and it makes me feel like I’m doing something right with that girl.  We finally have a shared hobby. 

My sissy needs to know that I found a strap of jingle bells at Lowe’s and bought them to hang on my front door.  We had some growing up and the sound of bells every time the door opens reminds me of home and Christmas.  I should also tell my sissy that Eva carries the jingle bells everywhere she goes and I have to listen to them ringing ALL DAY LONG.  She’s ruining the magic for me.  If I ask her to put the bells back on the door knob she hisses at me and says, “No!  They’re my jinger bells, not yours.  They’re not yours, Mama.”  (Just to be clear, they are mine.  I bought them for myself.  With my husband’s money.)

The point is, I’ve had a reawakening.  Even if I only have an audience of 3, I want to make them chuckle every once in a while.  It brings me joy to know they love me.

I’ll start jotting down notes again for future posts and will work on blogging more often.

Right after 30 Rock.

Bike Ride

That’s how we roll.

Eva is 3!

Let’s continue moving back in time and talk about my baby having a birthday on October 27th.  She turned 3 and I am in denial.

I’m also in denial that the dryer isn’t the reason my jeans are tight on my rump.

Eva makes my life happier.  We love her so much that we wanted to make her birthday extraordinarily special.  We started by buying her an extraordinary gift; a 2-wheeled bike. 

We disregarded the “some assembly required” notation on the box and gave it to her in pieces instead.  Eva loved playing with the handlebars and rolling the tires down the street.    

 

In case she whacks her noggin while swinging one of the training wheels over her head, we also bought her a bike helmet.  We’re responsible like that.

My parents gave her a baby doll which she now sleeps with every night.  I’ve overheard Eva talking to the baby and it is ridiculously cute.  She says, “Shhh…calm down, baby.  Please don’t fuss.”  I’ve also heard Eva say, “My baby is so thirsty,” and then she sticks a bottle in its mouth. 

Incidentally the baby doll has made it so I can't get rid of the baby swing in Eva’s room.  I’ve been meaning to put it away for months since Eva loves to swing in it even though she’s too big.  She swings so wildly that she hits the wall with the back of the seat and now there’s a big spot where the paint has been scuffed.  I finally had enough and told Eva she couldn’t sit in the swing anymore because it’s for babies and I’m going to put it in the garage because she’s too big for it.

She instantly grabbed her baby doll and put it in the swing and said, “It’s for my baby.”  I’ve been bested by a child.

Anyway, back to the birthday.  Eva also received books from Aunt Christina and a stuffed hippo and books from Grandma Lisa.  She was thrilled, of course.

Carrying on with the extraordinary birthday theme, we went bowling and had a piñata.  We did all of these birthday shenanigans while in Coeur d’Alene.  Bowling was kind of a bust.  First, half of our party ended up not bowling for various reasons.  That was a bummer.  Then my sister was accosted for bringing her water bottle in the bowling alley because, you know, it could be vodka.  Then Eva bowled 2 frames and disappeared to the arcade for an hour.  Then I lost my mojo and only scored in the 80’s.  Then every picture Myke took turned out blurry.  It did not feel extraordinary.

But Eva had fun so that part was good.

The piñata was made of titanium and was impervious to the beatings.  It was as though we were tapping on it with a soup spoon.  Probably because we were.

 

When we did finally bust the thing open, I filled my pockets with candy and spent the day shoving fistfuls into my mouth.  I was like Cookie Monster with crumbs flying and everything.  Num, num, num, num, num.

I refuse to cry about my baby turning 3 so I will pout instead.

Happy birthday, Eva.  We love you!

Halloweener

I realize my timeline is trending backwards but don’t bother me about it.  Enjoy reading about our mundane lives and shut your yapper.  The order of things really is inconsequential.  Just like math.  Parenthesis mean nothing to me. 

Halloween was a fantastic event at our house this year.  Myke’s mom and sister came to visit for the weekend and we are so glad they did.  We were also joined by my sister-in-law’s mother-in-law;  my nieces and nephew’s paternal grandmother; my brother-in-law’s mother; my husband’s sister’s husband’s mother.  Rose. 

I love Halloween and it was especially fun to have a house full of excited kids running around all hopped up on everlasting Gobstoppers. The forecast showed rain but we thumbed our noses at it and went to Bauman Farms anyway.  It was chilly outside and a bit windy for my comfort but it didn’t rain and it was fun.  It wasn’t too crowded and we were able to enjoy everything we were interested in without being bothered by other annoying families.  The kids were able to play the day away and we ended up with some good-lookin’ pumpkins too. 

Myke went down this slide with Eva and came shooting out the bottom as if he had rocket-powered shoes.  I missed his exit from the tube but caught his sheepishness as he brushed the hay from his clothing.  He was a good sport about playing with the kids while I sat around eating the snacks.  It’s my main contribution to our family. 

 

We spent a long time at the farm and then came home to carve our pumpkins.

Myke carved his freehand.  I was very impressed.

The kids were little artists as well and it was a very successful carving session.  And a very successful pumpkin-seed-excavation mission.

It was while we were carving pumpkins that the clouds parted and the water came rushing out.  The sky was a burst dam and I realized we would be trick-or-treating through a flood.  The kids were not deterred.  We would trick-or-treat come hell or high water.  Literally high water...poor saps drove from sunny California to clamor for soggy M&M’s.

I love Eva’s face in this picture.  She looks genuinely concerned about the vampire.

We ended up driving around the neighborhood and hopping out into the tsunami at any house that look inhabited.  We were crowded but made the best of it; even if it meant sitting in the baby’s car seat.  (Christina is the only one of us with a tuchus small enough to fit in the car seat so really it was nothing to be ashamed of.)   

The kids were able to fill their buckets with a very respectable amount of candy and the parents were able to score sugar cookies from the last house we visited.  It was a successfully waterlogged Halloween indeed.

Please, oh please, let’s get together again next year.

I’ll bring the snacks. 

Lucky 13

Today Michael and I marked 13 years of marriage.  We celebrated by nursing a sick child all day.  I had planned to make steak and chocolate cream pie for dinner but instead we had cheese and crackers.  With pepperoni.  That’s a celebration, my friends.

We didn’t exchange gifts but Myke surprised me with a date night on Friday.  We saw an illusionist and it was actually a lot of fun.  I sat there next to Michael thinking about the last 13 years and how quickly the time has passed.  It’s hard to remember my life without him and I’m very grateful for that.

In 13 years we’ve had many experiences together.  We’ve been fat, we’ve been thin.  We’ve been young, we’ve gotten older.  We’ve laughed, yelled, cried, and wondered why we thought getting married was a grand idea. 
   
We’ve struggled, we’ve been happy.  We’ve been poor, we’ve been comfortable. 

We’ve gotten fat again.

We’ve loved each other and shared our lives. 

























  










Happy Anniversary, Michael!  You’re my favorite husband.  (So far).

Parental Houseguests

My parents came over to our house last week and I’m always elated when they visit.  We had a brilliant time seeing the sights and enjoying each other's company.  I’ve been looking forward to their arrival for months and it made me a little sad that our days together zipped by.  But we had fun nonetheless.  I chanted in my mind that I needed to remember to take pictures of our activities so I could blog about them later.  I failed.  Consequently, I only have a few pictures of our adventures.  I was too preoccupied living in the moment and emblazoning the memories in my heart.   Or I’m a flake. 

My mom has taken up woodworking and we went to a lumber shop with really expensive wood so she could poke around.  I had planned on letting Eva liquefy her brain by playing on my phone all morning at the lumber store but they had a cat wandering among all the boards.  Eva spent the entire time we were there chasing the cat and trying to pet him.  He was a really friendly cat and he let her bother him without hissing or scratching at her.  I was very pleased.  My dad put the cat into Eva’s arms so she could hold him and she immediately dropped the poor guy onto the dog that was also there.  He hid from her for a few minutes after that but his grudge was short-lived. 

On another day we went to a car museum.  It was actually really cool and they had a children’s room that Eva loved.  It was a fun place to visit.  One of their displays was about the history of radio and music and how listening to music in cars has evolved.  They had a few albums up on the wall behind the glass and this was one of them:

I have been mercilessly tormented by my family since my youth for loving the movie Rad.   I felt vindicated that it’s epic enough to be honored in a museum.  Look who’s laughing now, suckers!  (If you haven’t had the pleasure of viewing Rad, I urge you to seek it out.  It’s awesome.  Especially the part where they use a male stunt double in a terrible wig to portray a woman.  It’s fine cinematography.)  Now that I’m remembering it’s greatness, I need to watch this movie again.

Here’s Eva playing in the kid’s room.  She cried when I told her we needed to leave.  I would’ve felt bad for her but we were meeting Michael for DELICIOUS tacos at a legit Mexican taqueria and I didn’t have time to coddle her.  My carnitas tacos and Coke in a bottle were of superior importance. 

At the end of my parents’ visit, we drove to my sister’s house in Coeur d’Alene where the fun continued.  We went to my nephew’s football game where we rang cowbells, wore Groucho Marx glasses, and screamed like hooligans at every exciting play. 

We also swam in the hotel pool, of course.  (Well, I didn’t swim.  I hate getting my hair wet outside of the shower.  Instead, I sat on the pool deck and enjoyed the pleasant stinging sensation the chlorine was producing in my eyes and nostrils.  That pleasantry lasted the rest of the night.)

Perhaps the highlight of the trip was when we attended a Roller Derby match.  Now that was fun!  We all sat there in confusion for the first few minutes until we Googled the rules.  Then it was just fun after that.  If you haven’t had the pleasure of viewing a Roller Derby match, I urge you to seek one out.  You won’t be disappointed. 

We also celebrated Eva’s birthday but I need to get the pictures from my dad for that one.  I’ll save that story for another day. 

And then it was time to drive home and enjoy Cinderella five times in a row.  It’s the only way to travel.

I’m incredibly grateful for the chance to reunite with family.  It was a great 10 days and I’m glad my parents made the journey to come play with us.  And I’m sorry, Dad, that you didn’t have the chance to purchase marijuana at one of the dispensaries.  Maybe next time.

Now…quit wasting your time on the internet and go find Rad and a Roller Derby. 

Aged

This is our dog, Aika.

 

He turned 9 this year and he’s been showing his decrepitness lately.  I’m having a difficult time coping with his aging and the idea of caring for an ailing dog.  Here he is when we first adopted him:

I was never a dog lover but Aika transformed me into a dog freak.  Michael and I spent many years with only the hope of being parents and Aika was our child.  We even threw him a birthday party once.  My sister still ridicules me about that but she came to the party and enjoyed the cake.  He has a stocking at Christmas and dresses up for Halloween.  He is our first baby. 

Admittedly, once Eva arrived, Aika was no longer top dog.  He couldn’t do this anymore:

 

Or this:

  

I don’t suffocate him with the same amount of affection anymore but I still love the old guy.  He makes me happy and I’m melancholy that our time with him is rapidly shortening.  

Aika has had to go to the vet every month for the past little while.  Not only is this expensive for us but it’s an obvious sign that he’s not our spry puppy anymore. 

Our kitchen counter is scattered with prescriptions and my phone dings reminders throughout the day to medicate our boy.  Every morning when I check his bed to let him outside, I hold my breath a moment in case he’s dead.  He can’t jump up into the car anymore and he has trouble standing first thing in the morning.  He behaves as though he’s approximately 157 in dog years.   

Aika is the best dog I’ve ever known.  He doesn’t bark, he’s docile, and he loves everyone; even our toddler who has never been gentle with him.  He is pure and wonderful.  Despite my mutterings about his annoying shedding and the piles of poo landmines in our yard, I love this dog a ridiculous amount.  A really ridiculous amount. 

I don’t know how much longer Aika will be with us, but I will continue to dress him up for Halloween.  I will also continue to hang a stocking for him even after he departs.  He likes it.

He’d better be waiting for me in Heaven when I get there.

(Yes, I’m going to Heaven, you jerk.)