Breakdown of a Breakdance

Recently, while in Ouray, Colorado (pronounced YOUR-ay, or your-AY), or as E calls it, "MYray", the little Princess gave us quite a show while we were enjoying the most amazing night, eating outside at this historic and a little haunted hotel we stayed at. If you don't know anything about Ouray, it's often called the Swiss Alps of America because it sits at nearly 8,000 ft. and is nestled amoung 14,000 peaks on every side. It's about 7 miles from Telluride as the crow flies (it's always a good day when I can use that phrase.) Anyhow, it's crazy beautiful in a rustic way and we fell madly in love with it and have made dreamy plans to run a very cool B&B there someday whilst our children are free to play outside on the street and ride their bikes through town unattended.

I digress. Back to the dance. So, we're sitting outside listening to the live entertainment (a guy playing guitar who, in all fairness, probably should have been playing in a nightclub circa 1978), and my E is really getting into the music. She's grooving with moves you've never seen before (anyone know the movie that came from?). She's rocking and swaying and her body is contorting into a funky, hip, sometimes awkward 4-year old dance party all on her own. She's breakin it down, and here's the proof that she gets her love of dance from her mommica and she's solid as gold, baby. (Post posting note: Also, apologies in advance for the very off numbering of steps. Not enough caffeine yet, apparently.)

Step 1: Sugary cocktail of choice. 'Nuf said.

Step 2. Give a little pose to begin. Confident. Strong.Step 3. Start moving with some arms. That's right. 1. 2. snap. 4.

Step 5. Do some Vogue-ing. With a smile.
Step 6. Get serious. Use props. Make sounds.

Step 7. Bring back the pointer fingers. They never fail.


Step 9. FOCUS! Get it on. Get 'cha GROOVE on, babay. Das right.Step 10. Rhythmic Clapping. Essential.
Step 11. Involve audience. Stir their emotions. Make them WANT to be a part of your thang.
Step 12. A little shout out to all the beautiful PE-ople!

Step 13. WO! Where'd she go? Ooh - some unesspected-NAss. I'm diggin. I'm diggin it.
Step 14. A final WOW-er
Step 15. And then she's done. Jus' like dat.

Wordless Wednesday

Green juice fu-man-choo

You Had Me At "Laundry"

Today while Mommica was super SUPER busy working back in my home office (and leaving my Princess to do as she chooses around the house), I came out to check on her and lo and behold, I just about had a heart attack. I still am reeling from what I saw. I mean, it was practically orgasmic (sorry all my good Christian readers, but IT'S TRUE!) I came out - suspecting that she was up to no good without my direct supervision, and I walk in to THIS...

And THIS:

I'm practically crying and laughing all at the same time right now. My precious 4-year old just went ahead and took it upon herself to FOLD THE LAUNDRY!!!!

Are you off the floor yet? I'm still there - typing here right next to the couch - on the rug - still in disbelief that my sassy, adorable and sassy (did I say that already?) little girl decided to do this on her own.

Best of all, she was ecstatic when I hauled over another 30-pound laundry basket full of "GOODIES!" for her! Oh thank you God.

The Princess: Graffiti Artist or Repeat Felony Offender? You Be The Judge.

We're having a bit of an "issue" (picture me making quote signs with my hands in the air) with The Princess and her artistic utterances. I'm indeed convinced this "issue" needs to be addressed legally, as I'm fairly certain that all of my property is or has been, at one point, destroyed by this little lady. She's 4.5 (read: SHE KNOWS BETTER ON SO MANY LEVELS IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY.) I am considering kicking her out letting the legal system determine the appropriate punitive action since nothing I do seems to help. Yes, I am litigious. I've begged my mother not to purchase any more writing utensils for her, I've had her clean it up herself, but alas - nothing curbs Princess's insatiable urge to artistically destroy.

I've stolen some explanatory sentencing documentation from a legal site about graffiti, so we can all be objective in this sentencing. But first, the evidence... (click photos to enlarge the type)











Graffiti is a crime Stringent penalties in the Crimes Act 1900 and in the Summary Offenses Act 1988 have been introduced to deal with graffiti crime (That's what I said). Under section 195 of the Crimes Act a person who maliciously destroys or damages property belonging to another is liable to a maximum penalty of imprisonment for 5 years. (That should be sufficient time for me to acquire the funds to purchase all new furniture for her to start over then.) If the destruction or damage is caused by means of fire or explosives (ahhh. so that's what's next), the maximum penalty is imprisonment for 10 years. (I know - you're thinking it's a bit harsh, but did you see those pictures??) In the Summary Offenses Act the penalties for graffiti offenses are:

• Section 9 - willfully marking, by means of chalk, paint or other material (crayons, pencils and my Monogrammed address stamper sufficiently qualify, no?), any premises, where the marking is within view from a public place unless the consent of the occupier or person in charge of the premises is first obtained.
  

Graffiti Removal:
You do not have to accept that once your property has been subject to graffiti it is there to stay. (I KNOW!) One of the more effective strategies against illegal graffiti is to remove it as quickly as possible and to persist in removing it. (Sounds like a FANTASTIC way to spend my days. I'LL give YOU an effective strategy....

Princess, looks like the writings' on the wall, little one...

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.