I'm a BusyFan

This weekend, while all the hoopla occurred over at BlogHer in San Francisco, the Mommica family has been on vaca in San Diego, creating our own version of hoopla.

A few highlights to our trip thus far:

1. Princess's Dramamine wearing off 4 minutes shy of our destination, and Mommica running to the back of the minivan to catch all the regurgitated remnants of prior breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks for the last 2 weeks, all caught in precious pink blanket still sitting in garage downstairs.

2. Leaving the largest tip of my life after my little Prince knocked over not one, but three glasses of water in a restaurant - on 3 separate occasions.

3. The famous blogging Dream Team of ...
BusyDad and Fury paid Mommica and kin a visit on the beach! Husband is still melting in Phoenix until he awaits his turn to come out later this week, and BusyDad's dWife was at a trade show, so it was just us and the kids and our Roberto's taco's at the ocean.

Now, I know many of you will be all "ooohh - BusyDad! FURY! I'm so insanely jealous!" And, I'd have to say - mmm hmm. I know. We built sand castles luxury blogger resorts with rings of fire and seaweed slip-n-slides, we boogie boarded (OK well, we actually just watched as BD dragged Fury on a boogie board), we (I) laughed as The Prince made BusyDad his P.W.B. (personal water boy), whipping him with seaweed and shouting at him to "GO GET MORE!" water in the buckets until BD had walked about 5 miles back and forth to the water, with Prince in tow. I sat happily watching Fury wishing I could bite those squishy cheeks as he was teaching my kids how to dig a tunnel through our blogger resort. And I was overjoyed when my Prince treated BusyDad and Fury to a full-blown nuclear meltdown as we parted ways. (All photos to document the day will be featured on our semi-joint post featuring "The First Ever, Probably Could Become Annual BlogKids Convention" on BusyDad's digs shortly... stay tuned.)

So until the next annual BlogKids convention, hosted by yours truly, and BusyDad, I bid Jim and sweet Fury adieu... until we meet again.

Oh just another morning.

Well, yesterday, as I was sitting at the Eggery with a few other people enjoying a wheat bagel and coffee with John & Cindy McCain, I realized, I'm pretty cool. I mean, it's not everyday that one gets to chill for a meal with a presidential candidate - regardless of who you're for. I was supposed to be there as part of a special focus group my friend arranged (who works for his campaign.) Then, as a surprise to us all, IN pops the paparazzi (OK just the real press) and John and his size-zero wife (I'm so not kidding about that), and I'm all "uh wah?" I start panicking and primping my hair saying "DAM my haircutter for making my bangs so ugly short!" as I turn awkwardly around, twisting only the top half of my body to quickly greet them, as the bottom half of me is pinned between my chair and the breakfast table. I contort my arm to shake Cindy's hand, as I'm scoping her body for the lovely bedazzling jewels she owns. Then, I untwist and sit down to shuffle the papers they gave us to read on his positions, and all I can think of is "what if the paper takes a horrible picture of me and I look like I have 4 chins and a muffin top and one of my eyes looks lazy?" And then, as I'm supposed to be contributing intelligent conversation about alternative energy sources and the rescue of Indy Mac and such, my mind wanders to a scenario where a begrudged ex-campaign worker sneaks into the restaurant and shoots McCain and his innocent focus group attendees, and I can already see the headline (and the terribly unflattering picture of dead Mommica) on the front page... "Shooter Takes Down McCain and Next 'Mother Of The Year'Hopeful, with Hideous Bangs And All"

So once the press took off, and we had a nice discussion on the impact of the gas crisis, Mr. Presidential Candidate asked me if that was an engagement ring on my finger. (??? presumably to congratulate me?) (At this point in the story, Husband naturally raised his brow). "Oh John, no," I said, blushing at his observation. "I've become allergic to my antique wedding band, so I only wear my engagement ring right now, but I've been happily married for 9 years." He smiled and left and I thought, "how terribly thoughtful he is". And I also thought "cindy must be pissed."

It's Business Time.

In honor of my NINTH wedding anniversary tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sending this looove letter and song out to my honey. So avert your eyes to the sappiness and squishy heart love if you can't handle it... ya, you know who you are! Just get outta here...

Bahz,

I know our 'business' time has changed a little since that fateful day 9 years ago when we said "I do" next to that beautiful creek in Sedona... I mean now we've got 2 kids to pin down to brush their teeth, and your toe nails to clip, and bills to pay, and Idol to watch. The list goes on. But I can assure you, when I see you comin' at me with your Breathe Right Strip on (ya, that's right) and your bite guard in to prevent your teeth from grinding, all I can think about is... "wow... that's MY man!" And I'm sure that over the years, you've come to appreciate my Thermal Fusion Enzyme Masque face and my toussled hair tied in a messy bun and my still-sexy-maternity-sweat-pants-that-are-too-comfortable-NOT-to-wear-
even-in-the-summer slinky outfits.

And according to our "Business Schedule", tonight it's "time" baby. So I throw this little love song out to you as a precursor, my love... to let you know that even though I'm always tired, I still think you're all that, and one hot husband - even more today than 9 years ago.

I love you Bab (pronounced Bob). Happy Business Time, Honey.

Random Thoughts.

1. I will officially NOT be boycotting American Idol since my honey David Cook won. I was completely ready to never watch it again if little Gomer Pyle Archuletta was victorious. Praise God. There is some semblance of sanity left in this world. Now moving on to "So You Think You Can Dance?" I know I can, so I can't wait to see these losers try and show me up tomorrow.

2. Can you tell my 4-year-old is a chef in the making (or that we watch too much Food Network)? Today, she and I were enjoying a mommy-daughter moment of mani's and pedi's on my bathroom floor in preparation for her "Moving Up" program at preschool tonight, when I started filing her nails with my nail file. I asked her to run and get the clippers and off she went, but not before saying, "Mommy, I'll go get the clippers and then I'll come RIGHT back so we can finish zesting my nails!"

The End.

The Sad, Sad Toilet - A Memoir

Hello dear readers. My name is Toilet. I've enjoyed a good life with Mommica, Husband, Princess and Prince. In fact, I remember the day Husband picked me out at Home Depot... I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be picked! I live in hall bathroom now, and while things are a bit more eventful at times now that the children are in the world, I'm quite happy. I'm used often and have witnessed some gruesome, and some lovely things in my short life.

The lovely things? Oh I remember Princess's first time on me. She called me the "big girl potty" - ah, the celebration, the tears. Prince's first crying when placed upon the "big boy potty" (he's not ready for me quite yet). Mommica's many nights sitting contentedly on my lid while we watched the kids bathe happily in the tub. The Prince hands splashing around in my water before Mommica comes and scolds him. Yes, I've seen some sweet times.

I've also seen some dark times. Times I don't wish to recall. And yet, something keeps bringing me back to that terrible place. In fact, I still have nightmares about it all when it happened the first time ... I was alone... disassembled like some two-bit appliance thrown in the yard where uncivilized animals go to the bathroom. No love. No TP. Husband had to unscrew every bolt, loosen every seal and pry me off the wall... taking me from my home, only to shove things up my pipes I had no idea could be shoved there. Yes, I was returned to my home, feeling cleansed and a bit free-er. But I cannot bear the thought of another cold, dark night when I'm ripped from all that I know and love about my life in hall bathroom.

You see, the Prince likes throw toys in water... all water - whether it's a mop bucket, the dog water bowl, or my beloved bowl. He callously laughes as he watches them go 'bye-bye' into the abyss that is my pipes. But he doesn't know the torment he puts me through. And as hard as I try to flush the toys and avoid the hell that's sure to follow, it's to no avail. He doesn't hear Husband swear like an emotionally-charged premenstrual woman who's just run out of chocolate ice cream, when he sees me overflowing from clogged pipes. The Prince just thinks its all fun and games.

And yet... here I am again. Brutally torn from my safety. My home in hall bathroom. Damn that doll shoe and bracelet that I could not pass. My only hope is that Husband will remember the good times we've had. The clean flushes. The quiet mornings reading together. Will I ever be allowed to return? Not if Prince can help it, I fear.

Dinner Conversation

Conversation with my 4-year old at dinner tonight:

(E): "Mommy and Daddy, do you know what a special day I'm going to have tomorrow?"
(M&D): "No, tell us!"
(E Waiving her arms, gesturing with both hands and using little mouth clicks while nodding her head as if saying "yep, yep I know exactly what I'm saying"): "WELL, I'm flying to California and I'm running late so I'm taking all my kids and (insert brother's name) and we're going to stay from the 17th to the 16th. And Kiki and Mary (dolls) are coming with us and Kiki is going to fall asleep on my lap and (as she pulls down the top of her tank top to expose her chest) she's going to drink my milk from my 'thing ' (pointing to her "nibble") and then her father is going to hold her."
(M&D): "Who's her father?"
(E): (flicking her pointer finger toward her brother) "That guy."
(M&D understandably grossed out): "oh."

Cute cuteness

Yep, I'm a little late in posting some of these Easter pics, but they're too cute, so here they are. Feel free to ridicule me for my tardiness.

Wo... trying to hold fuzzy bunny and drink... do NOT let go of that Mimosa...wo.. wo...

Again. Not letting go of the Mimosa.



"Uncle J, I'm about to throw up on you. Yes, yes indeed I threw up. What would an outing be without me throwing up on my nice clothes?"

"Oh little bitty bunny. You will be mine. I will love you. And kiss you. And squish you. And never let you go." (And then I'll hold you by your ears and drag you around until you scratch my eyes out trying to get away.)

"Oh, mommy I love this baby bunny so much that I will take him home and force him to be my baby doll slave bunny."