Yes, indeed. Little Ms. Scarlett has taken her first steps at the ripe old age of 9 months. Can you frickin’ believe that?
Scarlett practicing for her learner’s permit.WTF is up with this hair???
I was mortified to see that someone posted this on my high school reunion website over the weekend. WTF were we thinking with our 80’s hair? That has to be like 4″ of bangs! I probably killed several layers of ozone just spraying that mess into place.
So I guess I will be unrecognizable at my reunion next month without my retaining wall of hair.
As Dan and I were parking the car to go to dinner last Saturday night, I looked out the windshield and saw this…
Dan was all “okay, let’s go in” and I’m like “uh, shouldn’t we wait and see where that thing goes??” Men.
Anyway, I’ve seen lots of hurricanes and flooding living here in Houston, but never an almost-tornado up close and personal like that. Luckily it didn’t gain force, or turn into anything destructive, but it did scare the crap out of me for a few minutes.
I still have a little pile of stuff sitting in my office from my birthday…books, cards, trinkets, etc…and because everything in our home belongs to Anabella, she helped herself to one of mommy’s “toys”…a little silly statue that is supposedly the patron saint of hangovers (a gift from my friend Kim…it accompanied a very large bottle of Grey Goose. Kim rocks.).
Please notice that you can only give this to drunks ages 3+. Younger drunks might choke on the small parts.
So anywho, I can’t get this thing away from Anabella without an all-out fist fight, so I let her take it in the car for the ride to school Wednesday. She refuses to hand it over as we get out of the car, so I figured I could distract her once she got into her classroom and sneak away with it.
Well as soon as we hit the door, she starts showing everyone her treasure. I panic and start bargaining with her, promising to give it back after school, maybe it would be accompanying some ice cream…but no. Her teacher walks over and says “It’s okay. She can do a little ‘show and tell’ today.
F*CK! So, I smile and leave. Luckily it just says “Saint Vivian” on it…no big deal, right? I am sure the folks at the church will find this all very amusing. Or maybe there really is a St. Vivian!
I jump on Google when I get home, and sure enough, there is a St. Vivian. She was a “virgin and a martyr”…and the best part…”because St. Vivian is in one story represented as having been locked up with mad people, she has been honored as a patron of the insane and epileptics.”
What a lovely show and tell!
Saint Vivian has been banished to the junk cabinet, but at least she has the bulldog dinner bell and some old flasks to keep her company.
Yo Gagga Gagga
Okay, it is actually called Yo Gabba Gabba, but just hearing it in the background makes me want to gag. I have a pretty high tolerance for children’s television (I’ve been living with Elmo and the Wiggles for about 1-1/2 years now), but Anabella has moved on to just about every stupid cartoon on Noggin, including YGG, the most annoying show ever. (Well, Barney might still have it beat, but I refuse to ever let that show on my TV.)
So the other day I was doing dishes and Anabella was dancing around to YGG. I look over to see her doing some weird robot dance with this expression on her face.
Of course, I’m like “Anabella, what’s up with that look on your face?” And she says “I’m dancing, mommy, I’m dancing!” I look over at the TV, and sure enough, that’s the dancing face on one scary girl doing a weird robot dance.
WTF, Yo Gabba Gabba? Can’t you afford some decent animators? And please close that chick’s mouth…it’s just vulgar. And of course, Anabella thinks it the funniest thing ever now.
Death at the Pump
I would also like to know WTF is up with people trying to kill me at the gas station? A few weeks back I had an exchange with a woman who kept making cell phone calls while pumping gas. I nicely pointed to the photo of the cell phone with a big “X” through it, and she gave me a go-to-hell look and continued her conversation.
Then last week, a dude pulls up to the other side of my pump. He gets out, starts pumping, then gets back in his car and STARTS it up! As I look around the pump, because I am positive that he didn’t really do that, I see him lighting up a cigarette. Pumping gas into a running vehicle while smoking a cigarette. I totally expected him to douse us all in lighter fluid and start making cell phone calls. Geesh. WTF is wrong with people? Am I the only person who actually fears getting blown up at the gas station? I mean, someone had to die while smoking or making a phone call or whatever, or they wouldn’t have those signs, right?
My best friend from high school Halle gave birth to her second daughter, Blair, yesterday. She is four hours old in this photo.
As soon as I saw her, I thought “Oh my gosh! Look how sweet! I want another one so bad!” Then the rational side of my brain bitch-slapped the emotional side, and I got over that feeling immediately.
Me: Can you say “Happy Father’s Day, daddy!”?
Anabella: Happy Dauders Day, daddy!
Me: How about “Happy Daddy’s Day, daddy!”?
Anabella: Happy Daddy’s Day, daddy!
Me: Say it again.
Anabella: Happy Daddy’s Day, daddy!
Me: Ok, now go in the kitchen and say that to daddy.
Anabella runs into kitchen, looks at my husband and says….
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRANDPA!”
And that’s what I get for trying to train a 2 year old.
Obviously the girls can’t say the things I know they would like to (if they understood in the slightest what today is all about), so I will do it for them.
Happy Father’s Day, Dan. Not only are you the husband I always dreamed of, you are the father I never imagined. You kiss boo-boos, you play silly games, you tickle, you go to the zoo, you eat Chick-fil-a, you get up early, you take night feedings, you watch cartoons that drive you crazy, you bravely take two small children on outings by yourself, you participate on the playground, you buy cool toys (that mommy won’t), you are a master at tucking in, and you make the world’s best French toast.
You are a true partner in parenting…and you always see the fun in the job. You are always present. And you will always be loved and adored by your two little girls (and your big one too!).
My daughter’s MDO (mother’s day out) held an “end of the year” recital in May (each class sang several little songs), but when we sat down, I was surprised to see a graduation was to be held at the end of the program. “Who’s graduating?” I wondered. I soon found out that it was the Pre-K class. WTF? Who graduates from preschool???
And though it was cute to see all the four year olds in little caps and gowns…
…it was completely ridiculous. First of all, these kids had NO clue what was going on. They had to be pushed on to stage when their name was called. And second, what’s the message there? Congratulations kiddos, you can color in the lines and sing the ABC song! You are on your way!
I have since heard someone speaking of going to a fifth-grade graduation and someone else was at an 8th grade graduation. I realize I’ve been out of high school for a few decades, but the only graduations we had were high school and college. Period.
Doesn’t having several “graduations” before your senior year of high school sort of take away from the feeling of accomplishment? And I hate to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but it sounds like the cap and gown industry has a major shakedown going on. It’s not like you won’t buy the attire for your kid’s graduation, right?
Congratulations, reader! You made it to the end of my post, so you have officially graduated from reading my blog today. Please move your tassel to the left as you exit.
Yes, it’s still my birthday. At least according to me and Anabella, who still wishes me a happy birthday every other day. My birthday is like Festivus, but without the pole.
Anyway, I had my birthday “finale” last Saturday when a bunch of girlfriends joined me for lunch (Mexican food…my fav!), margaritas, and the Sex and the City movie. Of course I made goodie bags…a must for any fabulous party…and KB made the world’s most incredible Ding Dong cake. All I can say is OMG…it was worth every friggin little calorie! The only way the day could have been better is if the movie theater served margaritas.
Oh, and the movie was good too. 
So I guess my birthday is over now. Damn.
