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!!!"

This kid is weird

And completely uncool. Don't believe me? Just look up his interview with Jay Leno from tonight. As Mike put it, "he's so affected." I had to plug my ears through the interview so as to not go into severe embarrassment convulsions.  Sorry fans of Atticus Shaffer.  I think he's already a "has been" and he just got started in his career.

Code Words

Tonight's conversation with our daughter:

Farrah: Can I sleep with you guys tonight?

Me: No, tonight we're going to let you watch a movie in your room because we don't want to watch it in our room.

Farrah: Well, maybe I don't want to watch a movie tonight.

Me: Well, really, Mommy and Daddy want to have some privacy tonight.

Farrah: Oh, I KNOW MOMMY!!! I can watch my movie, and when you and Daddy are done having sssssprivacy, I can come in and sleep in your room. THAT'S A GOOD IDEA, HUH?!!

That's right, Farrah almost had a Freudian slip and didn't even know it. Also, when our IT guy, Jason and his girlfriend Sonja, came home. Farrah announced, "HI SONJA! HI JASON! AFTER MOMMY AND DADDY ARE DONE HAVING PRIVACY, I GET TO SLEEP IN THEIR ROOM!!!"

Pretty sure they figured through mine and Mike's loud laughter, that she didn't realize she meant "sex" and was announcing it to everyone (which in turn, I am doing here).

Also, another Farrah moment from this evening... Mike was using the bathroom tonight. All I could hear from Farrah was, "Ewwww. EWWWWW!!! Daddy is gross!!!"

She makes us laugh out loud. :)

Wedding March 3

No, I didn't forget to continue. I got busy. But I'm still working on putting this whole story together.

So, to continue...

Those who know us, know that Mike and I aren't super serious people when it comes to most things. We're pretty laid back and go-with-the-flow types. So when it was time to start picking out music, decorations, invitations, etc, I did so by keeping it light. I always knew that whenever I got married and whoever I married, we'd have certain music playing. I'd have to have Claire d'lune and Moonlight Sonata playing for sure. Those were my two favorite piano pieces I played while growing up (over and over and over because I never truly learned the endings). Also, I had to have a certain Lorena McKennit song playing because it was one of the most romantic songs I'd ever heard and I heard it back when I was a teenager. Since Mike wasn't pushing too much with involvement, the music was MINE. Those songs were going to be my "everybody take a seat" songs. Of course, our song to walk down the aisle was Canon in D. I cried every time I heard that song when it was in the scene from "Father of the Bride", so after I saw that movie 100 times, the choice had been made. But, being the good girlfriend/fiance/wife that I am, I knew we couldn't pull it all off with silly serious music. We planned to walk back down as Husband and Wife to the opening theme song of "Austin Powers The Spy Who Shagged Me". From the moment it was decided, we knew it was rad.

Mike and I had a moment driving in his truck and we were listening to some classic rock and a lil' Bon Jovi came on. They were playing "Bad Medicine". You know the song, "Your love is like BAD MEDICINE, bad medicine is what I need. Whoa, shake it up just like BAD MEDICINE, there ain't no doctor who can cure my disease." I mentioned to Mike, "Oh my god, wouldn't this song be hilarious to walk into the reception hall with this playing as we're announced as the new Mr. and Mrs. Mike Moody?!! We were laughing...but I was serious. And then it, too, was decided.

I spent a whole evening at my brother, Steve's house while he went over his entire music library. I was still listening to cassette tapes from the 90s in my Acura Vigor so my music selection was poop. I took down as many songs as I could think of that would be appropriate for a wedding and for dancing to. However, I started picking songs I thought were beautiful but later realized they were break up songs. Those wouldn't be needed. I also made sure I had my radio on in my car to hear whatever was new and old playing that I might like and always had some sort of scratch paper around to write down the title and artist if I could figure it out.

I ended up getting in touch with a Dj online (this was when the internet existed and had some decent websites, but mostly, people didn't know what the hell they were doing). My DJ was patient and cool, and most important...cheap. He was so great, he offered to do the music for the ceremony and for the reception and for the dance. I think it was about $350. Again, savings were important to me. He planned to bring two sets of equipment; one for outside and one for the reception hall. At the time Nora Jones was beginning to be popular and he hadn't heard of her. That was the only thing that made me leery of him. However, he purchased the Austin Powers soundtrack JUST FOR OUR WEDDING, so I bought him the Nora Jones CD and got him up with the current times.

On my lunch breaks, I would type out any and every single song that meant something to me, to Mike, to both of us, and to others, daily. Sometimes, I'd stay late after work typing out a menu of music and at times putting together an itinerary for when each and every song should be played. Crazy and controlling? Yep.

Okay, so that is the music portion and I'll continue with more soon. Tired...

Okay so that was the music find.

Time Line Error

Okay, if you read a couple of my posts that are kindarecent, you'll notice that Farrah somehow went from almost being 4 to being back in diapers. I had found some old blogs that I never posted so I went ahead and posted them about a month ago. Just so you know, Farrah has not gone backwards in her progress in school, and I know that Christmas is coming up and didn't happen last month. Just so we're clear and there is no confusion.

In Need of a Toilet

It's weird how your body reacts to things. I was sick last week and have been on antibiotics for who knows what. I guess I had a sinus infection, but it felt like strep throat combined with the worst headache of my life. I felt like I had two giant thumbs behind my eyeballs pushing them out of my face. That pain induced some vomiting, which in turn was the reason I was given the antibiotics. But I digress (like usual).

Well today, I've been feeling a little bit better. I was until I started the drive back to pick up Farrah from school. I had a lil' something brewing "downstairs" and the bubbling and gurgling in my guts began to make themselves known through standard cramping. I ignored the inevitable when I picked up Farrah and we discussed having lunch together. She suggested "Rice. Where the elephants are!" That meant driving South to Mukilteo for some Thai.

I had to plan...

Clearly, I had some evacuating to do. Where would I do it? At the little Thai restaurant? With Farrah in the stall with me eager to discuss my poop at our table for any and all ears to hear? No, that wouldn't do. My parents' house? Yes. I called my mom and explained my situation. I told her I was in dire need of a toilet to destroy. She wasn't too thrilled of the idea and actually tried to pawn me off to my grandma instead. What?!! This was an emergency! And how in the hell was I supposed to explain a 5 minute visit to my grandma that consisted of her and my dad watching my daughter run around while I annihilated her back bathroom? Nope. That was not how this was going to happen. I finally convinced my mother to allow me access to one of her toilets. She told me over the phone that I would have to use the "gross" bathroom, though. Oh well. I didn't care as long as my bowels had a destination that was not public, I was happy.

Here's where the body gets weird. I was now a good 5 minutes from my mom's house. But as soon as I hung up that phone, my body was more excited than I wanted or needed it to be. It needed to calm the eff down if I was going to make it! Ever hear of peaking? Or turtling? That was me. My back was jammed into my seat as far as it would go due to my massive discomfort. As soon as I pulled into the carport, I was walking funny. Oh yes, and then I had to take Farrah out of the car which involved her 30 pounds bumping up against my angry guts. Not cool. I wobbled to the house and my mom changed her mind as soon as she saw me and told me I could use her bathroom instead. The "clean" bathroom. I think it was more for her benefit than mine because it's clear in the back, as far away from where she was going to be as possible.

10 minutes later, all was right with the world again. I got to keep a little dignity with my daughter by not having to shit my brains out with her standing next to me in a public restroom and later, enjoy a decent lunch. Did I say dignity? Oh yeah, that was gone when Farrah farted very loud on a plastic booster seat and we laughed hysterically. Shortly after that, one of Farrah's famous man-belches exploded out of her mouth. Lunch was over at that point and I can say my dining experience was doomed from the word go.

This Generation

I've been meaning to write about this for quite sometime now, but have feared what the reprocussions might be. There could be some people out there that hate what I have to say, and some that might actually agree with me...

I love my Grandparents. I have never had anything but love and the deepest respect for them. I was raised that you respect your elders, including people that are only a few years older than me, because they still have just that little bit more life experience than I might have. The first time I ever spoke to someone who was older than me and in a manner that some might consider disrespectful (I even swore at him), I was 19. When I did it, I thought I was going to faint. However, it was a defining moment for me because it had to be done. To this day, I show respect to people that are older than me and make sure that I am always polite. I don't view this as a weak characteristic of mine, but actually as your basic maturity. If you ever read the books or hear the stories of "Our Greatest Generations", it is about the people who raised our parents. They are the people who you want to sit down with and talk for hours about what they went through during WWII and the depression. Out of all the presidents that have been in office while they were alive, who was their favorite? What types of things can they cook? All the things that if you asked some of your best friends, you wouldn't get near the interesting response.

Here is where I'm going with this. What has happened to today's generation? Why is it that I can walk through the mall and have kids (about 13 years old) walk around tossing out the "C" word as if it were the word "the"? Why can I walk around anywhere with kids that are anywhere from the age of 4 to 21, and no one knows how to say, "please, thank you, excuse me, etc"? It grosses me out. I do not enjoy going out to certain places anymore because I feel that I'm going to flip out on some of these assholes. I was walking with Mike and Farrah through the mall after getting Santa pictures done and there were older people all around us. However, behind us were some teenagers that were referring to a girl they went to school with as a c**t. I am not one who gets offended by words, unless they are used so poorly and with little to no creativity that it makes my blood boil. I spoke up to Mike loudly and said so as I watched the punks step back and walk in a different direction away from us. I had also taken the stroller into the bathroom area with Farrah so that I could change her diaper. While trying to get past some skater wannabes who decided to stand right in front of the entrance, I politely said excuse me. In response, the smallest one of the group said, "You're excused." He didn't expect me to stop and give him the look of, "I might just kill you" and say, "really." He looked very uncomfortable, as he should have. This little piss-ant punk, had a set of balls on him while around his buddies, but had I been in a real bad mood, I would have gone back to grab my husband to have a word with him. He wouldn't have been very happy.

What I'm trying to say is, we have to do something. I am a parent and I know some that read this are parents. I try so hard to listen to the things my Grandma tells me about when she was growing up and remember the things my parents taught me as I was growing up that I feel are important lessons and values to instill in my little girl. I know that society doesn't think the same way anymore and it seems like all we hear about is bad stuff on the news all the time about these kids. Isn't there a song out there about "Teenagers scare the shit out of me"? Yeah, pretty much. I feel it is our responsibility to help guide our kids to be the next best generation. Kids these days don't know what it means to be humbled, to be a part of something that is bigger than themselves, to not completely go for it on their own. I've named it the Generation of Entitlement. I've watched these kids receive a Mercedes for their 16th birthday and within a week toss a shitty attitude at their parents without any reprocussions. These kids walk around with a 'holier than thou" chip on their shoulder for the world to see, and still expect to get everything on their Christmas list or be allowed to go to their friends party or be given the job that should go to someone who has 3 more years experience than them. What has made these kids this way? I know that some feel that they want to be their kids' best friend and feel that they can't do that if they have to throw in discipline into the mix, but c'mon. Some of these kids deserve a little WWE Smackdown now and again.

My Grandma said to me not too long ago, "What is with the kids today? They are not going to make it should anything terrible ever happen in this world. Do they know how to sew, knit, grow a garden, can anything?" The answer is no, no, and no. Those are such important things to know, simply for the sake of learning the joy of accomplishment at a young age. These are the types of things that truly teach independence. Ugh, I'm rambling.

Farrah...

I haven't blogged in a while, but only because life has been, at times, a bit too overwhelming and not something to write about. I'll just leave it at that. However, while life has been going on, so has a lot in regard to my daughter. On December 18th, Farrah turned 2. The terrible twos. But, she began her terrible twos at the age of one, so I'm not really sure how that exactly works. Since we had the snow storm of the century, we couldn't exactly pull off a big party. We simply had her brothers over (that's right, brothers; another story, another time) and her Mommy and Daddy for presents and cake. It was nice, calm, and quiet. Except for when the sugar from the cake kicked in and she discovered her baby and stroller. Yikes. She pushed her baby in its stroller back and forth from the kitchen to the living room so many times until she ran out of steam. Ahhh, our little girl is two. She is sweet, kind hearted, loving, and so smart. I couldn't have asked for a better person to be made by me and her dad.

On December 24th, Christmas Eve, at the very last minute, on our way to my family's Christmas party, we took Farrah to see Saint Nick. It was an odd place we were told about to take her. We were told, he was real and, in fact, his real name was Santa Claus. He was located at a place in Marysville called, Santa's Den. When we arrived, I had a vision in my mind of what it was going to look like: Warm lighting, a beautiful Christmas tree (or about 5-6 of them), Christmas music in the back ground, pretty twinkling lights everywhere, perhaps someone selling cookies and hot cocoa, perhaps even seeing Santa; you know, something you'd find in Santa's Den. Not so much. It was located inside a mattress manufacturing place. The flurecent lights brightened up the whole place. You could hear a movie blasting through the room, there were fold out tables everywhere with papers and crayons and accompanied by fold out chairs (that could barely hold Mike's weight). Garbages were overflowing, there was one tree, kids were just hanging around and didn't look terribly excited, and the parents all had looks of dispair on their faces, including us. But worst of all, Santa was hidden in a little space behind a curtain. That space behind the curtain was actually Santa's Den. Where we were waiting was a loud, kinda decorated, low energy, mattress outlet with fold out chairs. The wait seemed to drag on forever and ever. I believe not just the kids were telling Santa what they wanted, but the adults were as well. Farrah looked so beautiful in her silver dress and her head band. What was missing from her darling ensamble? Shoes. We couldn't find her silver shoes anywhere, so ours was the ghetto kid in that place. When they finally called our number, we were allowed to go in to see the big man himself. Our friends were right, he was the real deal. Mike and I walked up with Farrah to meet him and she was hesitant (good girl - stranger danger) until Daddy shook Santa's hand to show her he was okay. She got up on his lap and was in awe. So were we. Sweetness oozed out of our child. Then she saw the camera. She knew what to do like a little professional. The pictures turned out amazing, and we were so happy that we had chosen that place to get her pictures done. Next time, however we will be arriving the day after Thanksgiving.

Girls' Day Out

Today was a fun day.  Farrah and I decided today would be a great day to get some of our Xmas shopping done.  We got a bit of a late start, so we thought we should get some lunch first.  Yay!  That ALWAYS means sushi for us.  Yes, my daughter has begun her mature tastes a bit early for her age.  It pretty neat.  I always order her teriyaki chicken and rice as a back up, but she usually eats half of my various rolls.  She has yet to have tried something I have eaten and spit it out.  She always asks for more!  We shared our lunch and she got plenty of practice using chop sticks.  She is a trooper, too.  Absolutely, my kid is NO QUITTER!!!  She worked through the difficulties of those two pieces of wood and only caved a couple times to use the fork to just turn around and go back to the sticks.  So cool.

After lunch, my favorite nail salon was conveniently located next door.  I had asked her if she wanted to get her nails done with me.  YESSSS!  I needed a small nail repair, so why not?  We walked in and I took her to the massive colorful wall of various nail colors.  What color?  PURPLE!!! Purple?  Okay.  She sat still the whole time and watched in awe as her nails were pampered and colored.  Not only that, Ryan took the time to design snow flakes on one of her thumbs and holly on the other.  Then she had to go sit by herself under the fingernail lamp.  For   A   Long   Time.  But she toughed it out.  Today she learned the agony of beauty.  Then it was my turn.  Did I do the same as her?  Of course I did.  How could I not?  She kept asking me if I was going to do purple, too.  "Are you going to do purple like me?!!"  Again, how could I not?  So, purple looks different on lady nails than it does on a two year old's nails (almost 3).  I look a lil' trampy.  I also have the holly on one thumb and snow flakes on the other thumb.  There was a gym member in there who thought it was great, a couple who came in, and of course, Ryan loved what we were doing, he charged a stupid awesome price.  Our hands are "pretty".

After that, we were off to get a couple things for a few people at Best Buy, and in came walking Mike and Alex; people I was maybe shopping for.  What are the odds?  Pretty good, since we live in a very small town.  So we were quick to get out of there and off to the next mission.  I can't tell what we did as it will be a wonderful surprise for everyone.  But...I can tell you it will be memorable.