Demolition Day

Today we are actually getting started on a remodeling job that has been in the pipeline for five years; since the day we bought our house! We are busting down walls and creating an upstairs game room out of an extra bedroom. (And by "we" I mean Javier and his work crew pictured below.)

There are four bedrooms in this house. There is also downstairs office with a proper closet and a full bath. That's too many places to sleep and not enough places to flop around and watch TV or spread out toys. Although Only Child doesn't like to be by himself in the downstairs office, (now serving as the playroom and the first thing you see when you walk into our house) we imagine one day he will want a place of his own to entertain while the grown ups occupy the downstairs.

The new game room was originally used by MMA as a workout room. He put huge mirrors on all the walls, equipped the room with free weights and machines and installed a nice stereo. Even I thought it was pretty sweet. Sadly, all that was too noisy after the baby came along, so the man cave had to move to the garage. Where, he moans, the Christmas decorations are edging him out for space. (Don't feel too bad for him, he's got big plans for the garage BUT, one project at a time.)

Did I mention that we are not DIYers? We're not. He doesn't like to spend his weekends doing home improvement projects...I don't like house work. We'd rather pay someone to do these "chores." (Hence, this project was a dream for five years...and the house can always use a good once over.)

What catalyst put this project into motion, you wonder? I'm glad you asked.

Hurricane Ike caved in a ceiling in an unused bedroom and the carpet was trashed. Next door, Only Child's bedroom had water damage and the carpet needs to be replaced. We've spent the last several months getting the roof, then the interior damage repaired and finally we're ready to replace carpet. We decided to replace all the upstairs carpet. But we didn't want to replace the carpet knowing that we'd have to replace or patch it once the game room was build out. So, we decided to do the game room before the carpet.

Then, my uncle emailed that he would like to pay us a visit from France. This is my father's brother. When I was fourteen, I spent a month with my Uncle and his wife traveling from from his home in Grenoble, France to Budapest, Hungary where my father was from. It was an adventure I will never forget, and during that trip, he promised to be there on the day I got married. Well, he kept that promise and gave me away at my wedding; Dad had died a of cancer a few years before.

Can't-very-well have an honored guest staying in a guest room with no carpet...So, it was the perfect storm to push this career procrastinator (two of us) to FINALLY pull the trigger.

I'm so glad it worked out this way. Talk about Win-Win And now you're privy to more than you ever cared to know about our family and how we live and the house that we are slowly growing into.


Note: During demolition Javier discovered a gas line running down the former closet about where the guy's knee is. So they had to rip into the sub floor to reroute it back through the wall. And, all that junk is still sitting there from when the last construction crew had to get into the attic and replace the insulation that got wet. I'm torn between putting the junk back in the attic and putting it on the curb. (Huge Christmas tree up for grabs.)

Sick Days are...

Sick Days are all about learning things you didn't know about your family.

Our little one takes to any kind of music that he's exposed to and his recall is amazing. His repertoire includes all the classics.

It's not unusual to catch him singing bits of Beetles songs, Elton John, or Frank Sinatra. You'd crack up if you heard him singing Pancho and Lefty. At night we make up lyrics to Brahms lullaby to sing about what we did that day. Well, I guess he's got an ear for contemporary music, too...

Only Child woke up with a little fever, so we ditched school and decided to lay in bed all day in PJs. But that was only fun until about noon, and by then we had read his new Big Backyard magazine cover to cover, watched plenty of TV and played with all the upstairs toys.

We were getting hungry and Tasty Time with Ze Fronk gave us an idea to make popcorn with nuts and dried fruit. We have a rule in our house: if you're sick, you get to eat whatever you want.

The Tylenol was kicking in and things were looking up. Being silly in the kitchen, one thing led to another, and I busted out with a few lines from Blackeyed Peas "My Humps."

Only Child stops me and says wide-eyed, "Mommy, that's the song the clown was singing when Daddy took me to the mall. I like that song."

I was puzzled, yes, but we were having fun, so I didn't dwell. He already knew the "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk" part. Which freed me up to be just Fergie. Minus the vulgar jeans, with slightly tweaked lyrics, but I was feeling it, sure.

I was playing to the BEST audience. Lot's of giggles and applause.

A little later, after we ate our snack he says, "Mommy, sing that song again that I like........and this time wiggle."

["Say what!?"]


I can't wait for Daddy to get home to explain the clown and the mall and what a three year old knows about wiggling.

Devil inside, Devil Inside

Did you see that sweet little cherub-faced child I spoke of last time? His head started spinning on me yesterday. It was frightful. We had our first big out-of-control tantrum and by the end we were both crying.

(No, I mean like a, "Call in the Doctor" kinda ordeal.)

We had a busy day on Sunday, so we got an early start. I guess his exhaustion had been mounting over the weekend because naps were missed and he had some late nights with dad while mommy was out with friends Friday and Saturday. Rare occasion, trust me.

So he fell asleep in the car on the way home. It was late afternoon and things got crazy in the blink of an eye. He was such a wild animal to get out, I had to enlist the help of MMA, because I feared for my safety, and his. MMA had him in the football hold and I remember seeing little feet and arms going in every direction. 35 pounds of flailing boy is a force to be reckoned with.

We put him to bed where he proceeded to scream, jump and claw like a trapped fox. I am sure the neighbors must have thought we were skinning him. His behaviour was scary and I had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

So he had the meltdown of his life while running around his room pushing over furniture and toys, pounding on his chest...he even peed in his pants! It was surreal, creepy, manic. I think I saw some foam forming at the corners of his lips.

Realizing that the 200 lb dresser is not bolted to the wall, I was afraid to leave him.

These are things he actually said...

"Mommy, what's happening to me?"

["You have been possessed by an evil-spirit, my child."]

Mommy, I am scared! Make it stop!

["I'm not you're mommy, I'm Anthony's mommy. Where is he?"]

"Why am I shaking like this? It won't stop."

[Will the sign of the cross burn him? "The power of Christ compels you."]

"Help me Mommy! Make it stop!"

I jest now, but the tears were welling up at the sight of my little guy taken over by this horrible monster.

Finally, in exhaustion, he gave in to being changed and rocked and the slow deep breathing came over him. Then, like he had was waking from a bad dream, he turned to me and said, "Mommy, what was that?" And a few moments later he was asking for food and smiling that sweet smile all over again.

Holy Hell, ladies, what was that??? Experienced moms of the world, don't forsake me now.

Sweet Nothings

With all the kid sadness going around lately, I just want to pinch my little guy's cheeks to red and plant kisses all over his round little face. Which is not so round anymore since the baby fat rolls are gone. But, he won't let me hold or cuddle him anymore. On rare occasion that I manage to land a few smooches, he wipes them off and tells me that I am not to give him any more kisses.


"We'll, see big talker. Not such a big boy when you wake up in the middle of the night crying for mommy, are ya!?" (Actually, that doesn't happen anymore, either.)

I just have to face it, the baby is all-grown up. He's big enough to take advantage of our weakness for his persuasive charms. Like when he needs help climbing a tree -- a new passion-- he'll play the "I need help 'cuz I'm just a little guy" card. Loves to call himself "little guy." (Is manipulation instinctive for pretty people?)

My big/little guy has a hairdresser and her name is Jessica. She's this pretty little thing that gives her FULL attention and laughs at his jokes. Its a big day at our house when he gets a haircut. I can twist his arm to get whatever I need, lest I threaten to cancel. This last time, I assumed my usual position next to him in the chair. And he told me "Mommy, just go sit over there," pointing, no, dismissing me to the waiting area. (Do all men instinctively gravitate to eye-candy?)

Little Guy is a nude monger. He strips himself completely bare at nap time and calls himself "Naked Baby." He then proceeds to make requests in the third person. "Naked Baby needs his blanky. Naked baby needs you to close the closet door. Tell Naked Baby a story about when you were little." But don't you call him a baby or you'll get told. (OK, I get that being naked is fun when there's no shame in your game.)

I've been down lately about my house still not being put back together from Ike. There are still a few projects that stand between "complete" and where we are now. And there have been days that I can't remember taking the time to play or laugh with my boy. Some days are a blur of harsh words, timeouts, and spankings.

I must remind myself that I can't get today back or whatever day it was that I moped around my house too spent to do anything productive. We're all healthy. MMA is gainfully employed. I adore those two. And I am just really thankful for everyday things like fussing over my healthy, egotistical little boy.

(Who just asked "Mom, could you go get some goodies from the goody bowl and share 'em with your little one." How can I say "no" to that?) Maybe I can trade him some candy for the option to run my fingers through his curls.

A Tale of Two Chips: Mommy Cuts, Part II

"Denny's has the Best Nachos ever!" M&M said at Girly Stuff's Superbowl Party as I helped myself to seconds and thirds of all the cheesilicious dips that she had brought.

My ears instantly perked up.

"Really?...Denny's?...I would never think to order Nachos from Denny's..." I think I said.



So today after church, MMA decided we should go, (where else?) to Denny's for breakfast since we rushed out of the house without eating much.

Since it was technically after noon when we sat down, and since I never order anything but breakfast at Denny's, I decided to live a little. M&M knows her way around a tortilla chip, so I figured I was in for a treat. Besides, one of my favorite foods of all time are ballpark nachos and I hardly ever make it to an Astros game anymore.

Oh, I like the kind of nachos you can get anywhere with the processed cheese food, canned jalapenos and round chips in a plastic tray. But if I'm at Minute Maid Park, I am magnetically and inexplicably pulled to the deluxe nachos every time. The deluxe start out like regular nachos, but then they are slathered in chili taco meat, sour cream, salsa and served with a spork. The first few bites are heavenly, but from there, the whole experience goes downhill, fast. I should know better by this stage in life...

My husband forced a half smile in my direction as I dove in. He was trying not to judge my choice. I did not care, anyway. The monster mound in front of me was my muse for the moment. Huge, sloppy, cheesy and just greasy enough, Denny's nachos did not disappoint!

I ate about half the plate when the urge to run to the bathroom started to kick in. That was my cue to stop eating. The mind was willing but the flesh was weak. I told MMA to go pay and don't look back. I thought being left alone at the table and pretending to myself that he would drive off without me would be the only way I could pull myself away before things turned........ugly.

He said gently, "No, I'm not in any hurry."

Unspoken expression runs so deep between long-term partners. I looked at the half-devoured mess on my plate and back at the one who sat across from me. A man who has seen me at my best, at my worst and like today in chili-stained weakness. I looked at him grateful to be loved in this condition.

"Why did I order these?" I asked as the churning in my stomach became audible.

"You love to hate yourself," he answered, without a hint of judgement. He just said what was, at that table in Denny's today.

I began to nod in agreement as he brought to my attention that what I was actually eating, were Minute Maid Deluxe Nachos.

"Gasp!" The room was spinning as I started checking off familiar ingredients in my head. Twice the portion. Half the price. But these were the very same nachos made famous by Aramark. They love me and they leave me...burning, every time.

They found me because I couldn't come to them. If distance makes the heart grow fonder, maybe their new-found accessibility (right in my own backyard) will cure me of this tormenting affair. One thing is for sure, we can't go on like this.

Excuse me, (pant, pant) I need to take care of some private business!

Makes the World Go 'round

Every where I turn someone is talking about money, either directly or indirectly. We're all so consumed with how we spend it. If we're saving enough of it. Where our next dose of it is coming from. Its all money, money, money, lately.

Not surprising, really, with the media shoving recession-fear into our hearts every time we turn on the TV. Its fair to say these are tough times for a good number of Americans, but isn't that true anytime someone loses a job or can't pay the bills?

We are not above the money talk around here. MMA and I have had our own meeting of the minds several months ago to make sure we're on track for today's circumstances and planning for the "what ifs" that could be around the corner. It's not fun to consider scary things like losing a livelihood or medical emergencies. But...

Once you've done what you can to take care of your family, the rest is in God's hands. Not that I want to be a homeless martyr, but every thing we own, including our house, is dispensable. (Did I say that? Crap! I like my stuff.)

Warning:
Political Commentary
Turn away as needed

So what about this massive stimulus bill?! Can anyone tell me exactly where this nearly 800 billion dollars is coming from? I don't disagree with pumping money into the economy right now, but if its on the condition of printing more and more of an ever-depleting dollar, I need help connecting the dots. Maybe there's an ivy-league economist who can explain it to me.

I'm so cynical about how these things work. How many FAT palms will be greased on the road to helping the average American keep their head above water? We heard very little about the fat that slipped in with this bill, so apparently the media is on board.

(And, honestly...is it understood in Washington that our days of involvement in the war are numbered and that that money is being quietly diverted back home? Too little coverage has me worried that this economy has created the perfect excuse to speed up the exit plan. What is the exit plan? I pray its not, "we can't afford this anymore, we're out" or worse, a de facto withdrawal that leaves token soldiers behind to be slaughtered.)

Can you tell I love to hate the media's biased coverage of all things political?

It's Hope and Change one day, and Gloom and Doom, the next! My three year old reminds me when I slip up that "hate" is not a nice word. So I love to loath the media...actors who sit behind a desk! Talk Soup has more journalistic integrity than the networks! (Fox, you're no better, you just happen to see things my way.) Its really about advertising dollars, isn't it?

Back on the Home Front

Let's talk about real lives and adapting to the "end of the gilded age" as Nightline dubbed it last week. [Rolling my eyes.]

Well for one thing, my new rule is that I don't pay full price on anything anymore. If it ain't on sale, I can wait. If doesn't go on sale, I don't need it.

Remember my post about turning tricks? I'm pretty proud of this new skill. Some weeks I spend only $40 or $50 on groceries (when the freezer is full and I plan our meals based on my stockpile.) Other weeks I spend the full $100 dollars but those are weeks that I buy wine, stock up sale items or splurge. I don't feel like we're making any major sacrifices, I'm just more careful in general. And I haven't paid for things like toothpaste, toilet paper and shampoo in months by following blogs like MSM and SOC. (These ladies are also in the know about how to get free magazine subscriptions, dinners out, even free undies from Victoria's Secret!)

My new favorite find is Shortcuts.com and Cellfire.com which are paperless coupon sites that allow you download coupons to your cellphone or Kroger card which are automatically applied at the store. You can double dip by stacking the paperless coupons with clipped coupons and that's how you can get things free. Since I started using these sites, my target price for a box of cereal is $1 or less. This is fun for me, don't judge!

I had a reality check around the holidays when I looked at my pantry stockpiled with lots of free or almost free foods that we just don't eat and I had to acknowledge that I'd taken things a bit far. It doesn't matter if I get instant potatoes for 12 cents a box...we don't eat instant potatoes! We donated bunch of perfectly good food and my shopping is now the wiser for it.

One casualty in all of this is spontaneity. I don't call MMA on shopping day anymore to ask what he wants for dinner. I don't buy $5 pints of strawberries just because they look good. We eat what is seasonal and on sale. Meals out are planned. Brand loyalty went out the window, too. I still buy MMA his precious Mach 3 razors, but he has to use them until their dull enough for Only Child to play with, then we recycle them as a toy...Wanted to see if you're still listening.

How is money driving your life these days?

On Parenting and Marriage

I have taken to antagonizing Only Child for my entertainment. Sick huh? I think I'm doing this out of some sort of passive aggression over his recent demanding behaviour and smart mouth.

He started attending a new MDO in January where he's in a class with "older kids" (4 year olds) and all of the sudden he's telling me off and acting like a brat. Of course, I'm not even considering internal factors from our idyllic home that could have contributed. I'm eager to point the finger at the school, society or someone else's ill-behaved child for contaminating mine. I'm not letting him slide (much) and the constant struggles are wearing me down.

So to infuse a little fun, I started doing this thing where I read his Dora books with a Rosie Perez accent. I get my inspiration from Click the Camera. Only Child gets so mad and hollers at me to "Stop that!" and "No, you're not reading it right! Read it right, Mommy!" Eventually he will snatch the book and slam it closed...He knows there is no "w" in Dora.

Now, I can't stop doing it. I laugh; he gets mad. Eventually he starts laughing, too and then he's mad that I made him laugh when he's trying to be grumpy. I know I shouldn't tease my child, but its so much fun!

The first time I exasperated him with my linguistic-comedic-genius everyone was laughing and MMA was clowning my version of a Puerto Rican accent, claiming it was awful and only sounded right to me (like my singing, then?) He secretly finds it sexy.

One of MMA's favorite Dad-fetishes is the hot little number, Genevieve from Choo Choo Soul. She does five minute fillers between shows on the Disney Channel where she is hip hop dancing and belting out bad kid tunes aboard a make-believe train. Check out her body of work on You Tube if you're not already familiar.

Dad goes ga-ga for her ticket-taker outfit that makes her look like the featured entertainer at a bachelor party. Seriously, I think it has velcro up the sides. He says she's extremely talented and our son agrees. Our house comes to a complete standstill when Genevieve is on TV.

And, somehow we decided that she was Puerto Rican -- I think on account of the hoop earrings and the accent. So Disney is really onto something that could potentially improve my marriage and my parenting skills at the same time.

I wonder if the boys in my house would listen a little better if I sport some big 'ol...........................................................................hoop earrings.