Our Little Girl

Happy Birthday to our amazing daughter, Farrah. She is 5 today and is as wonderful as can be. Had Mike and I gone through a catalog and picked all we'd love in a daughter...she's it. Not ONE day can go by without a kiss, a bear hug, or an "I love you" from her. It would make her day incomplete. She loves to play, she loves to smile, she loves being silly, she loves to sing, she loves her friends, she loves to share what she learns at school every single day, she loves her WHOLE family and remembers them all regardless of how often she gets to or doesn't see them. She loves art, she loves Littlest Pet Shops, she loves to watch Horseland, and she loves to make wishes. But she also really loves her mommy and her daddy. There just aren't enough hugs and kisses from us to truly satisfy her big heart. Farrah loves to love. :) How can we not be beyond proud of being the parents of one of the best people I know in the world?

Happy Birthday my "Kitten"
Happy Birthday Daddy's "Boots"
Happy Birthday our Farrah...our love.

Smurfette

Before you start asking yourself if I saw the movie, I didn't.  I'm a little afraid to.  Here's why...
As a child, I grew up watching this cartoon.  It wasn't one of my favorites by any means, but it was on around the time all the WB cartoons were on which were my favorites.  So, there I was watching these little blue creatures on the screen every Saturday morning.  Looking back on it, I was always confused about something.  Smurfette.

Smurfette was the ONLY female Smurf out of the ENTIRE colony of Smurfs.  Ummm...something about that was always a tad disturbing to me.  There were so many episodes about the many other male Smurfs wanting to hook up with Smurfette.  She was dirty.  Sorry if I offend anyone who either loves the Smurfs, or hates that the obvious was just shoved in their face.  She'd be offered gifts and she'd accept them!  Dirty little tramp.  But what did they get in return, I wonder???  Oh, we find that out down the road.  Where the heck did Baby Smurf come from?  They never did explain that.  Also, there were all these little Kid Smurfs.  Who birthed them?  Well, the ONLY FEMALE SMURF of course!!!  Loosey Goosey.

Might I point out her 4-pack-a-day-smoker's voice?  There's no way she cut out the ciggies while "with child".  And then there's her dress.  It was like the famous Marilyn Monroe dress.  The one that, OOPS, blows up.   She would walk around skanking it out for all the other Smurfs and the only one that didn't fall for her shannanagans was Papa Smurf, but that's probably because he was her dad.  And if that's the case...!!! HELLO! Get with the program Papa and find some other female Smurfs and sit Smurfette down and chat with her about her behavior and disgusting smoking habits.

In her defense... IF she is the ONLY female Smurf, I suppose she has a duty to uphold to keep the Smurf race alive and therefore has to behave in such a manner to try and keep the male Smurfs interested.  And in which case, with having to work that hard to keep them enticed, she probably has to smoke 4 packs a day because she hates her job and her life.

Side note about why I won't see the movie:  Today's cinema wants to take classic cartoons that we used to enjoy as children and trash them up.  Too much adult humor is thrown in and the cute female chimpmunks are made to wear slutty clothes.  While, yes, I'm making fun of what I found to be obvious as a child, I don't want my 4 year old learning the truth about Smurfette.  It's just not time.

Ice Cream Truck Hell

While at the Sprinkler Park today, Farrah, Toby and I were enjoying a nice time in the sun and lying under the shade of a tree.  Then from out of no where, the blaring sirens of "music" from an ice cream truck crept its evil way to the park. Sunuvabitch.  Of course, this brings out the crazy excitedness out of my daughter.  But do I have money to get one?  No.  Would I have got her one had I had the money?  No.  Not because I'm an asshole but because I know what a $2.50 ice cream can do to a kid, my kid, in that heat.  That late in the day.  And after playing so much.  Also, I had a massive bag and a massive dog attached to me so the idea of chasing after that stupid truck was not appealing.  What also made it not appealing...?  Farrah's temper tantrum.  "NOT FAIR!!! IT'S NOT FAIR!!! NO!!! NO!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!"  The tantrum included a lot of screaming, crying, throwing herself on the grass and kicking.  I was told that I was not liked and she insisted on getting louder and louder, but this was because not only did I say no, but I was packing our stuff to leave.  Who was this person?  I believe I saw a piece of my childhood come out in my daughter today, but I expect better from her.  Especially since we have much better ice cream and pop cycles at home.  Needless to say, I hate the Ice Cream Truck and it's stupid music that constantly plays while other children get to go up and get their ice cream while my daughter screams at the top of her lungs.

One last note:

Yesterday, Farrah went to the dentist.  NOT ONE SINGLE CAVITY!!!  We were praised with how well we maintained her teeth, flossed, adding ACT to her daily mouth hygiene, as well as her diet.  I was so proud of her too!  At first she was scared of having her teeth cleaned, but brave little Farrah took it like a champ.  She was well behaved and scored big with the staff because her check up was s-i-m-p-l-e!
Kudos to us for not giving her pop everyday and handing over a candy bar every time she asks.  Oh, and using a Sonicare on a 4 year old (since she was 2).  Good girl Farrah!!!  Very proud of you. :)

Three Blind Mice

Three blind mice
Three blind mice
See how they run
See how they run
They all went after the farmer's wife
She cut off their tails with a carving knife
Have you ever seen such a sight in your life
As three blind mice



Yeah.  Um, I just sang that to Farrah and when I looked down with a smile on my face, her jaw was at the floor and her eyes were bulging out of her face.  Here, I thought I was singing a classic to her; something that I grew up singing.  Little did I know how very violent it was.  Who wrote this murderous tale?  She was not pleased and told me, "Mama, that's a BAD song!"

My bad.

An Old Story

I just remembered an old story from back when I was just out of high school.  In fact, I may have still been in high school, but don't judge my poor behavior.  I'm telling this story because I was reminded of it today and thought I should write about it so that I never forget it.  Because it's that good (to me).

One night, some of my girlfriends Jen, Becky, Amy, Suzie, Mariah, and I had gone out to a Denny's after some teenage drinking.  Yes, I know, bad, bad, bad.  But this is old news.  One of us was sober because we were at least smart enough to designate someone to not be retarded, it just so happens that this night it was not me.  Becky and I were usually the good girls, but this night we were tipsy.  I, in fact, was pretty lit.  The typical hang out to go to when wasted was Denny's.  We were seated and we noticed some older guys (older, like they were probably 21 or 22) watching us.  Becky and I decided to be brave and invite ourselves to sit with them and start to flirt and shoot the shit with them.

However, she and I had a plan up our sleeves.  We positioned ourselves so our girlfriends could watch what we were doing.  When Becky would start talking to them and their attention would be on her, I would grab one of their cheeseburgers and take the biggest bite I could fit in my mouth.  (I'm scream laughing as I type this).  Then when she was done talking, I would begin jumping into the conversation and have their full attention while Becky grabbed a handful of french fries and stuffed her face.  This went on and on and every once in a while the guys would glance at us while we ate their dinner, but never say a thing!  By the time we were done with our flirting, we had basically finished their meal.  We were dying we were laughing so hard.  These poor guys were so polite they never said anything to us and our hobo ways.

Looking back, we were such assholes for doing that, but I have no regrets because it was one of those times in my life where the scream laughter was never ending to the point that my stomach and face hurt and I was crying from laughing so hard.  Even now, I can laugh hard at this story.  It's one of my favorite "being bad" stories.

Blog-worthy Restaurant Review

Farrah and I went out for lunch yesterday.  To protect the innocent, I will refrain from name dropping the restaurant we went to.  We decided to go for Chinese food.  Sounded good at the time, and you can always count on leftovers for dinner so you're usually getting two meals in one.  Great idea.  Well, once we opened the door to this "restaurant" I should've turned around immediately and ran back to my car.  But, no, I'm to damn polite to do something as smart as that. There were festive Chinese lanterns hanging from the office-style-tiled-ceiling which seemed to kinda match a normal Chinese restaurant themed environment, but then I looked at the chairs and tables.  They were the type of chairs you'd find in a bowling alley or in a diner that should've been closed down years and years ago.  The kind you saw back when they allowed you to smoke while eating your dinner.  You know what I'm talking about. You're probably picturing brown vinyl chairs with the metal legs?  Close.  They were red vinyl to keep with the color theme hanging from the ceiling.  The tables matched with the metal legs and the tops were glass covered over paper place mats that showed the Chinese calendar with the corresponding animals. 

Those things weren't what frightened me.  I was frightened by the sight of NO ASIANS in this ASIAN restaurant.  In fact, the waitstaff consisted of all white women no younger than 60 years old.  No joke.  I thought I had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up at the Poodle Dog in Tacoma.  In fact, that's about what the place looked like, but scaled down and not as cool.  At least at the Poodle Dog, you know what you're getting yourself into when you walk in.  I was not prepared for this.

I looked over the menu to try to decide what to order.  Of course, I recognized the names of all the meals but was a bit nervous as to what we would be presented with.  I couldn't help but notice the patrons that ate next to us.  Old.  They were very old people.  To my left and to my right.  Old people. Then the people that came in to pick up their lunch were OLD.  WHERE THE HELL WAS I?!!! 

Deep breath.

Farrah and I went safe.  I ordered the Almond Chicken and she ordered the Sweet and Sour Chicken.  "Is that all white meat?"  "No, honey it's a mix."  Goddamnit.  First we were served the "soup".  You know the kind you usually get before your meal?  It's usually Egg Flower soup, right?  Right.  Well, their version of Egg Flower soup had the typical Egg Flower noodley stuff, along with peas, carrots, meat, canned mushrooms, barley.  Barley?  Yep.  That's typical right?  Yes...in BEEF BARLEY SOUP. To be polite I tried the broth.  Tasted like Beef Barley soup.  Yuck.  Well, that got pushed aside and laughed at.  Then our lunch arrived.  I had the biggest grin on my face because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was blogging about this meal.  Abso-freakin-lutely.  It looked like I had 5 giant chicken thighs deep fried in thick batter and covered in a gravy-esque substance that looked like something that belonged over a turkey dinner.  It was dusted with remnants of almonds.  That's how it was justified to be called Almond Chicken.  In the center of my plate was cheap old-school style Pork Chow Mein.  No pork.  No noodles.  Just a LOT of celery, some bean sprouts, and those Chinese noodle crackers.  I swear to god I was picturing some old lady in the back reading from some Betty Crocker cookbook on how to prepare Chinese Food.  But I knew that couldn't be the case because just about everything from Betty Crocker is spectacular.

Farrah's plate was almost identical to mine only with a pink sauce over the top.  I had to cut her meat for her and look for pieces I was comfortable to serve her.  She seemed to enjoy her meal just fine, but that's because she primarily ate her rice (which also had canned mushrooms in it).  She drowned her rice and everything else on her plate with soy sauce which probably helped.  I had also been so bold as to order the fried shrimp on the side.  I'm used to getting shrimp the size of half a hot dog.  No, these were precooked and precurled shrimp, so they looked like the size of a mushroom.  I had to taste the mustard that came with it to make sure it was Chinese mustard and not basic Yellow mustard.  Score one for them.  It was kinda the real deal. 

When the waitress came around to check on us she said, "Oh, it looks like you two still have some work to do." Again, sounding like a waitress from the Poodle Dog.  "No, we're good, thanks."  "I'll get you some boxes."  "That's okay."  All I could picture was how cruel that would be to make my garbage can outside endure the smell, let alone my car for the whole 10 minutes to get back to my house.  I knew I'd have to make different plans for dinner since leftover "Chinese" food wasn't going to be it.  So...uh...yeah.  We won't be going back there.  At least I know it won't be on my "Hey, let's go eat at fill in the blank tonight" list. 

Farrah-isms

Farrah has an awesome sense of humor.  Lately, her "thing" is to blame Toby on her farts.  I have no idea where she got this since we haven't had him that long, but the way in which she pulls this off is quite amusing:  Pffffft  "That wasn't me, Mom.  Serious.  It was Toby.  Toby farted."  "Are you sure that wasn't you Farrah?  Toby is upstairs asleep.  How could that have been him?"  "I don't know Mom, but I know it wasn't me.  It was Toby."
She tells this little lie so convincingly.  Great.
Things aren't "humungous" they're "REmungous".
She's picked up on the word we now use around the house, "donzo".  We heard it on a TV show and we thought it was hilarious and so we've used it for the past two weeks.  Today, Farrah looked at my dinner plate and said, "Mom, look at your plate! You're almost donzo!"  So proud of her.

There are, of course, so many more and I'll post them as I think of them.  It's just a lil' late and I've got to get some sleep.  My little girl graduates from preschool tomorrow and I can't believe it.  The next post will be a sappy one...

Toby Juan K'nobe

I'm not quite sure why I haven't blogged about this, but...we have a dog!  We got him about a month ago.  About six months ago, I had decided it was time.  I had grown up my whole life always having a pet or pets.  We'd had dogs, cats, birds, rabbits, a lizzard, and for about a week - a gold fish.   Mind you, we did not have all of these at once.  Pretty sure my mother would have lost her damn mind.  However, we never only had just one pet at a time.   It always had a companion. 

This thought was what brought me to the decision.  Farrah essentially is an only child.  She has two older brothers but their age seperation is so extreme it makes it hard for a 22 year old to relate to a four year old.  Well...mostly. ; )-  I started doing some research on what kind of dog would be good for our home.  Farrah is allergic to some dogs, but it varies.  It's not always long haired dogs or short haired dogs.  Small or big.  It's very random.  So, I had to look up the hypoallergnic dogs and try and find one that would do.  Well, I didn't like my options.  Pretty much all of the dogs were some sort of "foo-foo" poodle-esque dog or something that was as big as a rat.  I just can't do those breeds. 

My interest was fading.  I've had German Sheppards, Bull Mastiffs and Rottweilers.  Tough dogs.  Big dogs.  I couldn't go from that to something I'd have to end up being super delicate with or name it "Tootsie" because it's so petite.  No thank you.  I happened to stumble upon a dog called a Bull Terrier.  They're a little goofy looking, but stocky.  Not bad.  Then when I googled photos, it pulled up another breed; the Staffy Terrier.  That one looked kinda bad ass.  Then I googled photos for that dog, and then a big/little boy jumped out at me.  It's called the American Bully.  Another word for it is the Razor's Edge. It looked like a canine version of Mike.  Loved this dog.  So, I started to do some reading and some research about the breed and fell in love.  It is a mix of several breeds in the "Bully" family and it pulled the best of each breed to make a short, stocky, muscular, loving, loyal, guardian.  It seemed like a miniature Rotty.  Love.

I did some searching and there was only one breeder I could find in Washington State and it was all the way in Ephrata.  I was not impressed with it's dogs.  So, I looked online and found the best site that didn't look as "gangsta" as some others and it was all the way in Memphis.  I talked to a guy named Christopher who spent a good hour of his time educating me about the breed.  He didn't have any pups, so he referred me to his friend who also spent another hour to discuss his dogs with me.  Ultimately, I saw some pics I loved and picked my favorite.  He's a tri (black, white, and cinnamon).

We had our pup shipped to us from Tennessee!!  His first experience away from his litter was on a plane for 8 hours.  We surprised Farrah by telling her we needed to drive a ways to go look at some big airplanes.  Alex and Joanie took us and we ended up at the Delta Cargo building.  We told her we needed to take care of some business and she was welcome to come with us.  I signed some papers and a crate was handed over to me.  Farrah noticed there was a dog inside, but it didn't quite click right away that this dog was coming home with us until we got to the car.  Jumping up and down she squealed, "We have a puppy!!!"  It was super exciting to watch her.  She got to pick the name.  We had the names Jerry, Carl, and Kevin picked out.  But Farrah had a different idea.  She liked the name Toby.  (Isn't that Gramma Rita's dog's name?)  Simple and cute.  It's her pup, so she got to pick the name.  My favorite, however was Carl and Kevin.  I had to tag on Juan K'nobe.  Not because I'm a Star Wars fan, but because it's funny.  She and I call him Toby, Tobe, Tobes, Tobers, Toberone, and when he's in trouble he gets the full name screamed at him.

He has a big head and a lil' body.  He will have a GIANT head, will be about 17" tall, and he'll weigh 80 pounds.  He's super smart and loving.  Here's a picture of our little monster.

Welcome to the family!

Cat.

Our neighbors have a cat who is a complete asshole.  Whenever Toby goes outside for a walk or to go potty, that damn cat bugs him.  He is an asshole.  It's the only word I can come up with to describe him.  I hate that cat!  Poor Toby is working on his training and out of nowhere, we can hear the tinkling of a tiny little bell.  The asshole cat is sneaking up to bother Toby.  Even tonight, at "late thirty" I took him out to do his business, and the cat came running from the very end of the street just to distract him.  I don't wish the cat any harm, but it's hard to not just let him off his leash to chase it.  Grrrr.

A Ren & Stimpy Kind of a Day

So, today was one of those days.  One of those days when my voice was a little bit louder, my pitch was a little bit higher, my eyeballs were a little bit bulgier, and my overall mood was...well...a little moodier.  It's not due to my period or anything hormonal.  This is being a mom.  This is being a mom to a 4 year old little girl who hates to wake up in the morning and a mom to a 10 week old puppy.  I've been busy at work with staying on top of things that seem to constantly pile up, trying to be sure that Farrah is off to school on time or her outings with Michele, staying on top of Toby's potty training so there's always dog pee and poop outside rather than inside, making sure Toby gets his walks in when it's not dumping down rain, preparing dinners, lunches, breakfasts, and hoping I get a moment to break away and pee and poop myself.  Whew!  Even typing that made me a lil' tired.  Here's an idea of what I sounded like this morning.  While reading this, be sure to try and hear my voice start to get louder and strained and crazed:
"Farrah, it's time to get up"
"Toby drop that!"
"Farrah! Get up now. You're going to be late."
"I don't care that you don't want to get up. Get up! TOBY!!! Leave it!"
"You HAVE to take a shower. YES YOU DO! Get in the shower, I have to take Toby outside."
"Toby, go biiiiiiggg potty.  Good boy!  NO! Drop it!"
"FARRAH?!!! Why aren't you in the shower?!!!"
"Where's Toby?"
"TOBY!!!"
"Farrah get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. GET DRESSED!"

This was me this morning:

You get the idea.  I suppose I don't have to go through my entire morning, however, know that my evening ended very similarly, if not worse.  Farrah was putting her finger in Toby's cage in the smallest whole and got her finger stuck.  STUCK-stuck.  Now, this is when she becomes a teapot.  She starts with a whimpering whine and then turns into a shrieking siren.  Her screams are blood curdling.  Her screams make me scream.  My head is down by her head, therefore her screaming is directly into my ear canal.

Why the hell did she put her finger in there?  How the hell did it get stuck?  I suppose we should ask her Grandma Jan who gets her feet, hands, and fingers stuck in everything and has since she was Farrah's age.  Is that even a gene you can pick up?  So I was able to come to her rescue by putting some ice on her finger and hoping my memory of some science projects would work.  I figured I'd ice it until the swelling would go down enough for me to wiggle the gate door and free her finger.  Whew!! It worked, thank god.  Wasn't sure if I was going to have to go to the ER with her attached to the crate with Toby inside wondering what the eff was going on.  My evening ended with me looking a little like this...

Tomorrow I have every intention to be a little more like this...

Easter 2011

I've blogged about this in the past, but it is this time of year that brings back so many memories of my Grandpa, John Kochrian.  This year in particular there are a lot of thoughts about him as well as my Grandma Virginia.  My parents just bought a new home (finally) which is about a 30-40 minute drive to my Grandma's.  She is 89 years old living in a 55+ trailer park where my parents were living to assist her and where my aunt and uncle live to also help her.  So, since Auntie Dianne and Uncle Mike do a lot of traveling (to visit my cousins or for leisure) they aren't as available.  Mom and dad moving has also made it so that it was time for a decision to be made.  It was time for Grandma to move to an assisted living apartment.  I think this hit all of us very hard, but not nearly as hard as Grandma.  I've only seen Grandma cry a small handful of times.  The first few times was when Grandpa was dying and at the last days of his life.  The latest time was when I was visiting her at her home, the only home I've ever known my grandparents to have ever lived in, and she started to fall apart when she said, "This is the last connection of your Grandfather that I have."  Broke my heart.  She's been scared and worried to make this move.  This LIFE move.
But I was invited to bring Farrah to her new place this last Sunday.  The place does programs constantly to keep them busy and LIVING their LIVES!  They had an early Easter Egg Hunt and Brunch.  Farrah and I got busy by stratagizing.  I sent Farrah far off from where the other kids were eyeballing the very visible eggs, forgetting there was another 1000+ square feet to rummage through.  She faired very well.  When we looked outside, that was when the memories of Grandpa came flooding in.  Where were the eggs that were supposed to be hiding IN the tulips?  Where were the eggs that were hiding in the much too high grass?  Where were the eggs hiding in the gutter drain?  This would be Grandpa John's way of thinking.  Get the kids on the verge of tears and then lead them in the right direction.
Anyway, the egg hunt went well and Farrah was kind enough to point out some eggs to a little boy who showed up a little late so he wouldn't go without.
Grandma seems to be adjusting and actually seems excited about all the upcoming activities that are totally up her alley.  She's going to be okay.  I will forever miss her home that I've always known was a second home for me while growing up, but again, it'll be okay. :)

Flowers

I was told by a gal in Fuzion last week, about a book called "The Artist's Way" that she highly recommended that I read.  I loved how insightful she was (considering we dont' know each other) that I needed a little creative "pick-me-up".  I guess it's one of those self discovery type books and it's been around for quite a while.  Well, I looked into it and I'll probably end up buying it.  I really want to finish some books I've been working on and maybe get back into my painting again.  There was a website for the book and I checked out the forum section.  There was one article in particular that caught my eye and it was, "Beginning a New Relationship...with me!"  The girl talked about how she was going to start treating herself better and even start buying herself little presents from time to time.  The one thing she said she started doing right away was buying herself some flowers.  She'd pick out ones that would cheer up a room.  She even said she was getting ready to start mailing herself some cards from Hallmark.  I thought this was such a great idea!
So, today I went grocery shopping and one thing on my list:  Flowers for me!  I love them.  They're simple and sweet and add a little bit of sunshine to our home when it's been nothing but grey for months.  I picked out some purple daisies and pink/white daisies as well as some babies breath.  I picked out one of my crystal vases I received for our wedding and decorated it with my flowers.  I set it up nice and neatly on our kitchen table.  It wasn't before long that the itching begun...
What. The. Hell.
I never get to have things like this and the one time I know I SHOULD have them, I find I'm allergic.  So, I took a benadryl and will do my best not to touch my eyes after touching the flowers.  Wonderful and kind gesture to myself gone array.

Disturbing

We have Apple TV.  It's a little device that makes it so we can watch movies from Netflix.  Unfortunately, no one warned me that our movie selection could potentially be crap.  It is.  Mind you, it isn't all terrible.  It's just that they're all pretty old movies.  Nothing people would go to the DVD rental place and rent ON PURPOSE.  This is all purely accidental.  So, Farrah has made a discovery of movies she thoroughly enjoys.  Jim Henson movies.  You know, back before they had the technology to have real people engage with imaginary creatures that looked real, they had puppets or muppets.  She particularly loves Labyrinth.  David Bowie is in this film.  And I have to be perfectly honest...not a fan of the wardrobe chosen for his character.  It's a bit...revealing.  I'm not sure why the costume designer picked out this outfit for him to wear, but it's a tad gross.  "Aw, yes, a movie for children.  Let's put David in pants that looks like he has a whole drawer of socks where his "business" is."  See for yourself and try to stifle the upchuck.

Ummm...yeah.  How about a pair of jeans next time, okay David Bowie.  Oh, and the music in this film was a lil' weird.  But Farrah seems to enjoy it and, thank god, isn't noticing the blinding bulge.

Interference

I just had to post about this because it left me dumbfounded.  Yesterday, Farrah and I went out for breakfast at our local Patty's Eggnest.  I've eaten there before so I knew I was in store for some deliciousness and crappy coffee.  Well, part of the reason I take Farrah out from time to time on our little dates is to teach her proper "restaurant behavior" or public behavior, in general.  For the most part, she's wonderfully behaved.  It's actually something I'm proud of.  Sometimes, however, she needs a lil' work.  So, she had one of those days where the booster seat became a rocking chair, her spoon became her microphone, and 2 minutes into the meal it was time to go potty.  The thing that drives me the craziest is when she's out of her seat and not minding me.  I tell her to get in her seat in a manner which is gently threatening and to the point.  Sometimes I'm lucky and she takes me seriously and sometimes she pushes me to see how far she can take it before I give her the look of "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!"  So, our breakfast lasted about 20 minutes so we could get out and head home.  When we went up to the register to pay, no one was there to take our money right away so we waited.  While waiting, Farrah grew impatient and wanted to climb on a stool, grab at things, and touch everything around.  At this same time, I was doing the whole "Honey, don't touch that. Honey, get down. Farrah, do NOT make me ask you again.  Farrah did I just tell you to not touch that?"  Finally, I had had enough.  I leaned down face to face with her, and began explaining that she needed to mind me and keep her hands to herself, when our waitress who also was the person taking the money walked up and interrupted me by saying, "Oh honey, it's okay. You're being a REALLY good girl.  And GOOD girls get a prize for being SO well behaved.  Here, pick out a little toy for being SO GOOD."

My eyes went so big and almost popped out of my mother-lovin' eyes.  I could feel my hands start to shake and smoke come out of my ears.  Unfortunately, it is in my nature (for some god-awful reason) to keep my mouth shut and not making a scene.  I'm not a fan of conflict, especially public conflict (which is why I think Farrah pushes me).

This woman gave me a freakin' smug look without actually looking me in the eyes.  She interfered with my parenting and I wanted to smack her in the face for it.  She put me on the spot as if I was one of those women who drag their screaming child around the grocery store by the arm.  I try my best to keep Farrah behaving, and not acting out on my kid like a psycho.  But when someone wants to interrupt my JOB as a mother, I wanted to scratch her god damn eyes out.  While the food is great at that restaurant, I'll be ordering out from now on.

I vowed early on (in 2006) that I would NOT be raising an asshole.  I struggle from time to time when my 4 year old acts like a 14 year old and I know a big part of it is my own fault, but I'm doing my best.  I can do better, but if someone who doesn't know me OR MY DAUGHTER, can take their opinions and stick it up their ass.

Knock knock

Farrah is four.  So, she tells four-year-old jokes.  I've been trying to work with her on her joke telling skills and am not succeeding the way I wish that I would.  We have practiced the following joke hundreds of times:

Knock know
Who's there?
Interrupting cow
Interrupting cow (MOO!) who?

Buahahaahaahaa

Well, she can't pronounce "interrupting cow" clearly so it always sounds like "inner-ruppin' cow"!  I can understand her, but no one else really can so she doesn't get the response from her hilarious joke that she wants because she ends up having to tell it to that person about 5 times before they get it.

When I've tried to tell her new jokes, she thinks I'm making them up on the fly.  Not true.  The jokes I tell have been passed on from generation to generation and are of pure quality.  Her jokes on the other hand are terrible.  Really, really terrible.

For example:
Farrah:    Knock knock
Me:         Who's there?
Farrah:    Ummm, flowers
Me:          Flower's who?
Farrah:     Flowers the grass puppy is walking toots.  Is that a good one?!!  Is that a good one, Mommy?!!  Is it funny?!!!

Is it bad that I'm honest with her?  I just can't have my daughter going around telling bad jokes.  That just can't be my kid.  I think, for the most part, her dad and I have pretty good senses of humor and can be quite witty at times.  Could you imagine the embarrassment we would endure if Farrah went around telling jokes about balloons and the chair (these are just the random things that she saw in our house and turned into a joke)?  I couldn't show my face if I were to allow it.  So, I tell her, "no honey, that one wasn't a funny one."  I'm sure she gets confused because I tell her that while laughing.  She hasn't caught on to the concept of laughing at someone rather than with them.  In due time.

I should add in my daughter's defense something my mother reminded me of today.  A joke that my brothers and I would tell all the time:

Why did the elephant climb the tree?
Why?
SO HE COULD GET HIS MUSTARD
Hahahahahahahaha

There might be hope for her.

Boobies

Farrah:  Your boobies are gross Mommy

Me:  No they're not! They're grrrreat.

Farrah:  But they're so BIG.

Me:  Yep! I know.

Farrah:  But they need to stop growing.

Me:  Don't worry.  They're done growing.  They will NOT get any bigger.  Promise.

Farrah:  Good, because they're all "wobbly".

Me:  Well... they're kinda supposed to be.

Farrah:  Hmmm.

Me:  Never mind.

Things Are Happening

Hello out there, world.  Yep, I'm still here.  I'm just living my little life that seems to get bigger and bigger and bigger.  Therefore, the idea of taking some time out for me to type about, well, me...seemed like a silly idea until now.  I'm eating my lunch and choosing to try and enjoy it by NOT reading work emails and going over various tax thingies or employee issues.  I'll be thrilled if I actually finish this entry and publish it.  I still haven't finished my story about my and Mike's wedding!!  Geez, I'll get back to it, I promise. 

So...what's been going on?  Sooooo much!  The gyms are busy and we have a wonderful group of people working there.  And dammit, I will include myself in that group!  We are making moves to make the gyms bigger and better and improved.  It's an exciting, busy, difficult at times, process.  However, when it is all said and done it will be amazing.
And then there's Fuzion.  Oh Em Gee.  Can it get better?  Yes!  And it does pretty much every freakin' day!  Who knew?  We did.  Yay!  We are now officially on Amazon.com.  That is not something that is simply handed to you on a silver tray.  It was an incredible opportunity for both businesses and Amazon clearly saw something in us to want us to be a part of what they do, so hurray for the team!!! 

Mike has been working his ass off everyday.  E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y.  It has been a challenge to adapt to this new life schedule for me, Farrah, and of course, Mike.  We cross paths as often as we can, but with so many pots on the fire, Mike is stretched pretty thin with his time.  Luckily we have delegated gym things to others, but working with Amazon, the investors, the whole marketing crew, and Airvoice, and on and on and on, it's tough with only 24 hours in a day.  I have to say he's doing a GREAT job and is succeeding everyday.  It's funny because he'll call me with new good news everyday.  How is that possible?  I guess it just is. 

We just got back from the 2010 Pro Bowl in Hawaii.  It was our first program with the new marketing team, DTI.  It's good to know people who know people.  That philosophy got us VERY far while working in Hawaii.  Yes, that's right, we were WORKING.  I can't tell how many people said, "Enjoy yourself while you're there! You guys deserve a break!"  We do deserve a break, but that wasn't breaktime. :)  We got off the plane, got to our rental car, got to the hotel, and went to the DTI room at the hotel and got right to work.  We didn't even go to our room!  Can you imagine how smelly we probably were from sitting cramped in a large airplane for 6 and a half hours?  I can.  Yup.  Gross. 

After we got all of the Fuzion products organized and tasked everything out, we were finally able to go to our room and change.  The people we are working with know several (if not all) of the NFL players.  We met several players while we were there.  I believe we rested for 3 hours while we were there.  And while I technically was taking a break, Mike was not.  He was right by my side, but texting away, checking his emails, and making phone calls.  The little bit of Hawaii we got to see, was beautiful.  People asked if we had a chance to go to the beach and we lied and said we had.  Nope.  We walked on a sidewalk that was near the beach.  I did, however, take time every morning to get up before Mike (which is very unusual) brewed some hotel coffee, went out on our 19th floor balcony, and read my book for a good 30 minutes to an hour.  That was my little R & R that I gave myself.  My little treat to me.

I'm very proud of all that we did and all that we were able to come back with.  How cool is it to say, "Hey you know that guy who did that really nice thing for that kid on TV last week that brought tears to everyone's eyes.  Yeah, he's with us.  He's using our service."  Seriously!!  How freakin' cool?!!  When we came home to being up and running on Amazon, Mike was beside himself.  He said, "Okay, now get ready for a crazy ride! This will be a whirlwind!"  I'm extremely proud of all his hard work because he deserves to succeed.  And he will.

So, this is just the beginning of what has taken a year to put together.  But this will be an awesome beginning to a life that is only imagined.  We will live it...

Farrah's First Nightmare

This morning, Farrah told me she had a nightmare.  "What was it about?" I asked. Then she continued to explain...

"You had fallen in the toilet.  And I couldn't get you out.  I was scared because I couldn't save you.  Daddy tried to get you out."  "Was the toilet big?"  She whispered, "You were very small and the toilet was very big."

I just asked her, "How did I fall in the toilet?"
Farrah:  "There was so much stuff (whispered)."
Me:  "Like what stuff?  Poop?"
Farrah:  "No!!  So much pee (whispered).  And you fell in."
Me:  "How did I get out?!!"
Farrah:  "Daddy. He saved you. And then you grew and grew and grew."
Me:  "Like Alice in Wonderland?"
Farrah:  "No, like a Mommy."


The End

P.S.  She wanted me to erase this because she never wanted to have this dream ever ever again.  Must have been quite upsetting, but considering I'M the one who was swimming in pee, I should be scared.

"ERASE IT!!!"  "Why?"  "BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE IT!!!"