Did Someone say party?

There are many cool things about where we live but what is special about the neighborhood is that the developers hold an annual block party. Raymus Homes, specifically Toni and Bob and their excellent staff, put on a big shin dig with great food, music, games, and a JUMP HOUSE!

Of course the kids went crazy, despite the 100 + heat, occasional rain, we all had a great time.

The divine Miss E mugging for the photo mama. This kid is amazing, she is getting ready to start Kindergarten and I already miss the little round baby face. It feels like she is going to college already. I know, I know, one day at a time right?

This is my "timid" daughter. Itsy Bitsy is about as timid as leopard hunting a tapir. She was the first one up from her nap and did not even hesitate to climb into the jump house and headed for the slide. What kills me is the fact she just relaxed in free fall which makes me think she will be jumping from airplanes. Zabbers is very particular about her experiences and what she will take from them. You gotta love that.

All of them asked if we could have a jump house in the back yard. I am thinking the cost of care may be less than having a pool. I think they are starting to sell me on the whole thing. What would life look like if we had a jump house in the back yard....hmmmmmm....... maybe like this?

Here is the "Tater Bug" trying his hand at a bit of American football, notice the south paw. He won a prize on the first try, a blue monkey. He was more into the action rather than the prizes.

This little love is cuddly, loyal, inquisitive, all boy all the time. Between slaying dragons, running, general rough housing he still finds time to come and lay on my lap for me to rub his head. I get "ahhhhhh cuuutte" when he sees something in a book or movie he likes. He greets me when I pick him up from school with big hugs and enthusiatic "Mama!"

The boy would have nothing to do with any of this. Face painting has become a pretty hot topic in our house. Em has had a couple of occasions where the teachers have painted the faces for a special event. Each day they ask, I answer yes, yes, I need to go and get the book. Well the book showed up at the party. They looked like they were choosing their first tattoo. Don't think it didn't spook me a bit. And for those of you who are thinking it, I'll say I know I have tatoos, and plan to get one more, I know I am being a bit of a hypocrite when I say I am not encouraging them to get tattoos.

Yes I will be picking up a face painting book this weekend. Do I really have a choice?

Belated Father's Day thoughts

This is going to be hard. Since July 2005 I have not seriously dealt with the rude reality of his passing. I muddle through, I always do. To face it, meaning his absence and the senseless way his life was taken, is beyond my capability. I am just barely holding on from day to day and my heart is angrier than it has ever been for any other reason. My head is not doing much better.

It has not escaped me that I have much to be thankful; I have my kids, a husband, and dear friends. I realize I am not the only one who has lost a parent, my husband has lost both. I can not even imagine waking day to day remembering those people with whom we seek comfort from are no longer there. For Brian, his loss was long, for me my loss was swift. Either way, neither he nor I will be the same. For me, my whole world evolved and revolved around the fact I had a mother and a father who were still married and in love. I was one of the lucky kids and adult who had opportunities to regularly hang out with my parents and enjoyed their company.

My dad is ornery, brash, difficult, rigid, silly, lovable, generous, and more importantly my daddy. I said once before my dad was a hero for me. It took me 25 years to actually put the lessons and dots together but I got it. There are so many times during the day that I think about what he would say when the kids are entertaining with their silly antics and wish, close my eyes so tight and click my heels three times and WISH he would walk into my door with a smile from ear to ear. His smile which envelopes his entire face and the laugh of mischief. That will never happen, and I can not believe it. I don’t believe it; rather I am refusing the reality and living in a fantasy he will be back.

I desperately need him, I need his guidance, I need his reassurance, I need his protection, and I just need him.

So this particular Father’s day I have really lost sight of a few things. My psyche responds in such a fractured way for me it is a wonder I get out of bed each morning. I really don’t control anything it is just the illusion of control. SUCKS Here is where I try to pull the positive into this post.

For Brian, this was and has been his day, his day to be loved and to love. My wish is for him to continue to realize just how much his presence affects the kids, especially his daughters. Look at me, Brian, I am a little girl without her dad, I know you have no control on when, as my dad put it “punch the ticket”, but you do have control as to how your daughters and son relate to you. The kids love you already, they loved you from the moment they entered the world, that is a certainty and fact which will never change. Anything else is just icing on the cake. My wish is for you to show them you love them with care, discipline, and hugs. The rest you and I will provide. You are a father, a daddy, a provider, a care giver, and later as the kids get older a friend. I am positive your dad is proud of you and is watching as you grow as a man with a family. Your dad is watching you form the circle; nudging you a bit, holding your shoulder, whispering your job is not done. I hear the same message from mine. Brian, your father’s day is everyday, Carpe Diem.

Venominous - BEWARE

So I have griped about this subject before and I am feeling really bitter and pissed off about the whole thing, jobs suck. I work for a place that does not foster any support for the current employees to move upward. I work with many fabulous people and I think there may be one or two who think I am fabulous as well. I am fed up on two levels.

LEVEL ONE
I am good, no I am great, at what I do for a living but I know I would be better given the chance to add more to my plate. What pisses me off is the fact that this atmosphere I live in for 40 + hours a week does not support promotion. This kind of narrow-minded, short sighted thinking is not limited to my office it is spread all over the organization. I am only seen as this, not this. Somewhere in the process I have eluded the gene for promotion or the gene to be a cutthroat. I am smart, I have a degree, I have time served at my organization, I have contacts and resources, and none of that matters because the head up the ass managers around this place do not see me in anything else other than what I do. I dress casually, but so does everyone, it is the culture of the organization, I do not show up in daisy duke shorts with a tube top, I dress professionally and comfortable. No I do not wear high heels (Birkenstock), no I do not wear make up (I smell nice and I am clean), I do style my hair, keep my nails clipped, and brush my teeth.

What they want is push paper, don't think. I need to be told how business is done, what I see is how not to do business.

And with that it brings me to LEVEL TWO
How is it people feel the sense of entitlement of working here that rules do not apply to their kids? I just got a call from a person on campus spreading the bull crap and ultimately because the mother of a procrastinating child did not follow directions. Deadlines are deadlines no matter where you go in the world. I myself have made the mistake of not following deadlines but I suffered the consequences of my laziness. What gets me riled is that these people think they are above it. This "mother" went and complained to the person who called me (and I assume saying what a bitch I was) that I had told her no when she called the first time. The fact of the matter is that the deadline has been posted for over two months, people that is eight weeks, 60 days, 1,440 hours, 26, 400 minutes, 1,584,000 seconds. This includes weekends. How could there be any confusion is that not really enough time?

I am not looking to burn bridges but I am about to take out my oar and start hitting people over the head.

Ok, I know I said just two levels but I am mad about something else. I am mad that people who make more than me know less and then ask me for help. I am even more mad when the person who knows less has been explained the process and then ignores and hands me substandard product. If it weren't for the law I would have blow darted her already.

Alright, I am done for now but I feel the pressure building back up again.

Why do I do this?

It starts off idyllic. A beautiful, cool morning, not a cloud in the sky. Three wonderfully behaved kids (oh wait, these are my kids I am talking about) correction, three mildly tame children set free to run and scamp about. "Run" I say, "Climb like monkeys" I cheer, "quit holding onto my leg".

And for twenty seconds they do, however it didn not help that the kids knew I had food with me. Food is an event and LAWRD help me if I miss a snack time or meal. I have learned they are no different than wild dogs, they will eat their family if necessary. I keep a constant supply of treats on my person.

This is proof I brought food, apples, water and fish.



This is the minute and a half before the next complaint, "I'm hungry, I'm thristy, I want to go home". It appears they are having fun.


"Hey what's that next to the tree? Come on guys look at this!"


I think to myself, sure a little fun running barefoot in damp grass and wait what is that on your legs? Uh, what are you guys doing? HOLD ON A SECOND! What is that? That is not dirt, THAT IS MUD!


Hey Boy! Get back over here! Let me wipe that stuff off your legs! Hey, I am talking to you! Where are you going!


Awwwwww MAN! WATER! How come water needs to be in the fray? I swear somebody left this here on purpose. And yes, the boy is doing a pre push up before lying flat in the water now filled and expertly stirred with this................


Now this is only the begining. Take a gander at this little fruit loop.


People pay a pretty hefty sum of doughnuts for this crap, smearing it all over the face, legs, arms, my kids get the free stuff. The free stuff is not regulated people. Who really knows what the hell is in it. Listen, I am not afraid of a little mud now and then but this stuff is extra sticky, extra, well, muddy.


Even the Itsy Bitsy is not afraid, I think she thought she was famous and leaving hand prints for Grauman's Chinese Theatre. This one is going to be a star. She is F.I.E.R.C.E.


"Look Momma! Look! It's mud!" I say "I know Sweet Pea, I know. You know you are riding home naked?"


And he is safe, but not from a bath.


A face only a mom could love, and he was trying out disguises for his fake driver's license. I told him he needed to pick a mustache color that matches his hair colour and goes all the way across the lip.


Ok, these are just pictures of a face that blows me to pieces. So completely gorgeous, I am sure they mixed her up at the hospital and her "real parents" are Brangalina. I do not see any genetic connection what so ever except the fact I love her.







Well no so much this one. Snapped right before the "tude" came out, I made them all strip bare before they got in to the car for the ride home.


The moral of this story is check the mud before get in it. What ever is in this particular mud has not come out of the clothes after three vigerous washings. I have now resorted to soaking the clothes in various products all at the same time to try to get the stain, YES IT DID STAIN. It took less than ten minutes to come home and I immediately put the stuff in the washer, thinking to myself I am doing great, I am washing out the mess so there won't be a stain. WRONG! It is a miracle I got the crap off my kids, two soap bars later.