You know those moments when you are living your life, everything is in its normal order (or disorder, in my case) then something/someone holds a mirror up to your face and you realize something about yourself that changes your entire outlook on life?  And it's so simple and so there that you wonder why it never occured to you before.

I had one today, when I was checking out Rants from Mommyland and came across this post. 

Holy Crap! 

I am Julia Sugarbaker! 

But you know, it makes perfect sense.  All my television watching life I've aspired to be a Marcia or Rachel but, in reality, I AM Julia Sugarbaker.  No ifs, ands, or buts about it.  I've been her my entire life and just too blind to see it.

 Julia: I do not think everyone in America is ignorant! Far from it! But we are today, probably, the most uneducated, under read, and illiterate nation in the western hemisphere. Which makes it all the more puzzling to me why the biggest question on your small mind is whether or not little Johnny is gonna recite the Pledge of Allegiance every morning! I'll tell you something else, Mr. Brickett. I have had it up to here with you and your phony issues and your Yankee Doodle yakking! If you like reciting the Pledge of Allegiance everyday then I think you should do it! In the car! In the shower! Wherever the mood strikes you! But don't try to tell me when or where I have to say or do or salute anything, because I am an American too, and that is what being an American is all about! And another thing, I am sick and tired of being made to feel that if I am not a member of a little family with 2.4 children who goes just to Jerry Fallwell's church and puts their hands over their hearts every morning that I am unreligious, unpatriotic, and un-American! Because I've got news for you, Mr. Brickett. All liberals are not kooks, anymore than all conservatives are fascists! And the last time I checked, God was neither a Democratic nor a Republican! And just for your information, yes I am a liberal, but I am also a Christian. And I get down on my knees and pray everyday - on my own turf - on my own time. One of the things that I pray for, Mr. Brickett is that people with power will get good sense, and that people with good sense will get power... and that the rest of us will be blessed with the patience and the strength to survive the people like you in the meantime!
Man, it's good to be me and totally justifies me yelling at the ass in the parking garage yesterday.

Holy earthquakes, Batman!

Today is a beautiful amazing day in August.  This sort of day never happens in DC, and I'm sure that someone here sold their soul to the devil in exchange for it - it's that rare.  I had a breezy post floating around in my head but then we had an earthquake.  Huh?  What the heck?!?

USGS is reporting that it was a 5.9, centered 87 miles south of here (or 62 miles south of my house.)  There has been construction outside my window all morning, so my first thought was construction gone wrong.  Then I thought bomb.  Finally, my brain grasped on to the idea of an earthquake.  I'm a West Coast girl.  My first memory of an earthquake is when I was seven or so, and my biggest earthquake was the Loma Prieta in 1989.  (That was a pretty fucking big ass earthquake, excuse my French.)

Daycare reports that the kids are fine.  The Spouse has been evacuated and is heading home to check on the house, then to get the kids.  Our neighbors report that some pictures and decorations fell off the walls.  I'm ahead of that game, because I don't hand stuff up!  Ha!  I just prop it against the wall.  Thankfully, the china cabinet is trapped in a corner of the living room, with cabinets and things wedged against it, so that should be fine.  The bookcases were affixed to the walls with the introduction of Baby Batman.  I'm crossing my fingers that it's no big deal.  My new kitchen better not have been touched...

What I wore today

I'm back at my desk, though my brain may still be on vacation.  It's August in DC, so it's likely that everyone else sent their brains on vacation and my lack of intelligence will go unnoticed.  In protest of the end of vacation and in celebration of August recess, this is what I wore to work today:

My favorite dress (LL Bean) in navy, not this print:

Cute and comfy (Crocs!?!) wedges:

And my summer vacation bag:

Perfect for a casual August day in the office, or drinks at the Ritz in Georgetown (on the schedule for tonight.)  Every so often, this mom is sorta kinda a do.

This is a shameless rip off from a talented artist, and is by no means an attempt to steal or plagiarize his idea.  But how awesome is this:

You can buy yourself a copy here:  http://www.speedbump.com/buy.html  Of course, I would rather buy the GPS.

The Spouse and I are taking our very pale children on a vacation next week while our kitchen gets 3/4 of the way finished.  Looking forward to seeing it almost put together upon our return.

Happy Trails!

Extreme Makeover: Mom Edition

Robin hates getting his hair cut.  He fights like a wildcat, with growling, thrashing, scratching, and some biting.  It's not pleasant.  We've tried various options and hair stylists.  The only successful cut thus far was at Cartoon Cuts in the local mall, which promptly went out of business probably due to PTSD from dealing with my kid.  A few months ago, I gave him what I referred to as a "half haircut" because he wouldn't sit still for more. 

A week ago, The Spouse and I agreed that Robin needed a haircut.  It was too long and shaggy, it was hot, it would get drenched with sweat, he hated having it washed or dried.  I told The Spouse that I wanted to shave it off using a relatively short attachment on the clippers, buzz it, and be done with it for two months or so.  Surprisingly, The Spouse agreed to the idea - probably because we could deal with the tears and tantrum  in the privacy of our own home.  Last night, I decided the time had come.  We spread a sheet in the bathroom, put a #3 attachment on the clippers, and got to work.  It was not pleasant.  There was no edging around the ears nor clipping the hairline at the back of the neck.  I put a #1 on the clippers to do the bottom of the back of his neck, then dumped him in the shower.  Once he was clean and dry, I brushed his teeth, read him a book, and got him in bed.

Batman was holding out for me to buy a cape because he hates to get the little hairs all over him.  Surprisingly, he decided after all of Robin's drama, he would get his hair cut last night, too.  He stripped to the buff and stood patiently while I cut his hair.  (In another shocking turn of events, he also sat quietly through church on Sunday.  The entire service!  He's maturing before my eyes.)  He was mostly patient while The Spouse did the trim work around the ears and neck.  He got a much better haircut than Robin did and, with the money I saved, I will buy him a cape for the next time I cut their hair.  He, too, got in the shower, then in pjs for bed. 

Robin got his revenge later that night, when he woke up with growing pains at 12:30.  Then Batman was up with growing pains at 2:00.  Then the spouse and dogs woke me up at 5:30 when they finally straggled upstairs after falling asleep in front of the tv.  I had wondered why my migraines had gone away after being a daily occurance for weeks.  And today, one is back in residence over my right eye.  I'm sure it was because we went for a period of time without growing pains and now they are back and I'm getting up multiple times per night.  Joy!

I dropped the boys off at daycare/summer camp today, and I must say they looked sharp.

Dogs

I have to go to the store tonight after work because of the dogs.  The damn dogs are out of dog food.  They also got the hamburger buns for tonight's dinner off the table, ate them, and left shards of plastic wrap around the living room.  In retaliation, instead of going to the pet store for the super fancy expensive sensitive skin dog food that Leo favors, I am going to the grocery store to pick up whatever (sensitive) smaller bag it might happen to carry.  I would have made the special trip for them, but they fucked me and they will have to live (scratch) with the consequences.

Moral of the story:  Don't fuck with the person with the opposable thumbs and car keys.

Truth, Justice, and the American Way

Batman has started his vacation countdown.  What is amazing to me is that he remembers where we are going and what we have said we are going to do when we get there - in detail.  I have used broad strokes to describe the general gist of what we are going to do, but he has remembered those details down to the day.  Heck, I don't even remember what I told him.  Last night, we were walking from dinner to the grocery store and he pointed at Panera Bread and said, "That was where we ate breakfast last year, in California."  While it should not amaze me that his memory is this good - mine was, when I was a child - it still never ceases to amaze me what kind of crap I tell this kid and that he files it away for future use.

I tend to tell my kids the truth.  The Spouse is not really a fan of it.  Not that he wants me to lie to the kids, but he doesn't think I should be so straight up and down with what I tell them and how.  From the time they were born, I have never talked down to them.  I am not a fan of baby talk.  I explain complex political ideology, physics, death, finances (personal and government), why the Beatles and Elvis paved the way for modern rock music, and the inner workings of the U.S. government.  Sure, they look at me with blank faces and think momma has lost her marbles again, but every so often they will spit out awesome facts like, "Fat Dog is going to meet you at the all-you-can-eat Milk Bone bar in Heaven."  Yep, that's a fact, Jack, and if you want to find momma when you die, look for me there. 

There are some things I don't jump to tell them, before I think they're (I'm) ready.  I haven't started the facts of life, other than the basics - that they were in my belly and the dr helped me evict them.  They know their friend's mom has a baby in her belly.  Thankfully, they haven't asked how the baby got there.  But I'm prepared, as much as any parent can be, to tell them how you take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have The Facts of Life.

Of course, some truths will be deliberately withheld for as long as I can get away with it.  I think every kid should believe in the magic of Christmas and the Tooth Fairy - I still do. 

August recess

I'm so burnt out.  Thank goodness August recess has arrived.  Still, the kitchen remodel continues so there won't be a break from that.  Maybe if I get a really good nap this weekend I'll start perking up?

Things that have burnt me out:

- Congress.  For the love of God, people, do your damn job!  Leaving for recess without finishing the FAA bill was shameful.  It has now been finished, but it should have been addressed earlier.  And the debt limit...I am so sick of it all.  I hate the polarization of DC these days.  The anger and fighting do nothing but further hurt the situation.  We need to find a way to work together and move forward.

- The crisis in the Horn of Africa.  There is no way to exaggerate the depth of this famine.  It's a crisis that we Americans have been blessed to never have to experience.  Times are tough here, sure, but it's even worse over there. Do something.  Donate money or time.  DO SOMETHING!!

- My house.  It's only been one week, so I am in no position to complain, but I"m looking forward to having my house back, even if it is a piece of shit.  After one week, the cabinets are completely installed.  Now for flooring, back splash, counters, plumbing, and electricity. 

- Back to school.  Batman starts public school this year.  I'm worried over his before/after school care and whether I have made the right choices for him.  I'm worried about whether I should put him in competitive soccer or just leave him in swim lessons.  I'm worried about the change in routine.  I'm worried about juggling four, yes, FOUR different child care/school arrangements for the coming school year. 

- Vacation.  We punted this year.  We were going to reward ourselves with a great all inclusive vacation this year.  For a variety of reasons, that's not happening this year.  We are taking a vacation, but we are traveling by car, staying somewhat local, and have to be with our kids 24/7 the entire week.  Not what we wanted, but it's what we've got.

- The heat.  DC's heat and humidity have burned me out.  We've had a respite this week and it's been lovely.

Gah, I'm boring.  TGIF!!

Happy Birthday, Sally!

My Salligator is 10 years old (more or less) today.  We brought her home nine years ago today, when she was a year old (more or less).

Sally at 10 years:Weight: 45ish
Teeth: still has most of them, but lost two the year during a dental cleaning.
Sleep schedule: Marathon napper and typically sleeps through the night.  Sometimes wakes me up to go out.
Food: Yes, please.  She would love to eat your food, her food, Leo's food, moldy food, or anything else remotely edible.  She is a furry vacuum cleaner, and does a better job than the Dyson.
Milestones:  She has achieved senior dog status at the vet. 
Nicknames: Salligator, Cuddle Bug, Baby Girl
Hobbies:  Eating, napping, basking in the sun, barking at Viking pillagers, barking at imagined Viking pillagers, sleeping on forbidden furniture, taking rawhide away from Leo once he has softened the edges, shedding.

Sally was brought home when Roxanne was on her last legs.  Surprisingly, the addition of Sally bought Rox a few more years.  Rox was never a dog's dog, but Sally adored Roxanne and followed her around willing her to play.  Roxanne brought our scared broken dog out of her shell and back to life.  We are so very lucky that Sally turned out the way she did.  She could have been a frightful angry dog, full of fear agression but she's not.  She is full of love and care for her family, even if the superheros do sometimes disturb her peace.  No matter what "love" and "affection" they shower on her, she will lay there and take it until they (are ordered to) stop. 

I love you, baby girl.  You and me against the boys, ok? 

Kumbaya My Lord, Kumbaya

Words cannot describe how much I miss summer camp.  I am a summer camp junkie.  I attended summer camp, then worked at two summer camps.  I spent my endless summer of 1995-96 graduating from college, working at summer camp, working at a resort in the South Pacific, then back to California for my final summer as a camp director.  Sniff.  It was a great 18 months.

Summer camp - when done right -  is a place where everyone finds their inner cool self.  There are no geeks at summer camp.  No kid without a posse.  It's the job of counselors and support staff to make sure that even the quirkiest child finds his niche.  Every child dances on Friday night.  Every kid gets a starring role in the camp fire skit.  Lifelong memories are created in arts and crafts (dreamweavers today, kids!), the showers (cold!), and chatting during rest time.

The Spouse was not a summer camp attendee.  He does not understand the comraderie that comes from sleeping under the stars at the lake or playing a color war.  He does not understand the innate coolness that comes with sporting a tie dyed shirt you made and a ribbon braided into your hair.  He was profoundly confused when I told him that I wanted to fly cross country next year - with the children - to attend a summer camp reunion and he could come.  Or not.  To see people I haven't seen in nearly 20 years. 

As a parent, I both cheer and worry for the day when Batman and Robin are old enough for sleep away camp.  I can't wait for them to start off on that adventure.  It will foster independence.  They will meet best friends that they might only see two weeks out of the year.  They will learn the camp fire songs that still echo in my head - and we can sing rounds in the car!!  But I worry about the scruples of the camp staff, the screening of the counselors, the oversight, and a million other things.  Yet, I know that the experience of summer camp is a ritual for the parents as well as the children.  A lesson in letting go, temporarily, but practicing for the empty nest.

I have put us on the waiting list for a slot at the Tyler Place, a family camp in Vermont.  The Spouse went along with it only because the children's programs will bring us a few hours of quiet per day. For him.  I will be at the archery range, or maybe tie dying a shirt.  And I'm certain there will be a ribbon braided in my hair.

If someone offered me a job today, I would be sorely tempted to shuck my family and responsibilities in return for s'mores, singing, and skits around the campfire. 

Goodnight Apache, Goodnight Red Barn.

Fry day

What I brought for my morning snack this morning: Strawberry Greek yogurt.

What I ate for my snack this morning: pack of M&Ms. 

Our house is completely torn apart.  The kitchen renovation forced us to put our crap elsewhere, and it has overtaken every other bit of room in our house.  Demolition was yesterday.  There are slivers of wood and staples on the floor of every room.  Thank goodness I hate to be barefoot.  I always wear shoes.  Forced the children to wear shoes.  They were not happy. 

Further evidence that our townhouse is a POS: When the drywall was pulled off the walls in the kitchen, it was discovered that the builder put all his trash behind the walls.  Drywall, papers, leftover wire, junk. It was next to exposed wiring and a fire hazard.

I knew ahead of time that the contractors would using our bathrooms, but I found one of my books in the powder room last night. It wasn't there yesterday morning. I shuddered in horror. Thankfully, I was finished with it. Might as well leave it in there so they don't take another. Maybe that's judgy and snobbish but I don't go to other people's homes and take one of their books into the crapper to read while I take a dump.  Am I the only one?

The kids are pissed because there is a ton of our junk and a tall kitchen cabinet that have been put in front of the TV.  We can't reach the cabinet to open it up, so they can't watch TV.  Also, we took them to The Diet Coke Store (McDs) last night and REFUSED TO LET THEM GET A TOY!  And no dessert.  And they had to eat fruit.  At The Diet Coke Store.  The horror.  It's inhumane, and I expect them to call Amnesty International any day now. 
Our cabinets were supposed to be framed and hung today, but since the drywall was taken down, it was decided that the electrician needed to come first and rough in the wiring.  And they don't know if that will happen today.  So, great, a weekend of cabinets in the living room and no TV. Great.  What am I supposed to do with the children???

Other things that happened yesterday:

-Trips to book store, used book store, and library.
-Two trips to the neighborhood nursery for plants.
-Got the Batmobile inspected.
-Got massage.
-Toy store for some gift closet things.
-Had lunch with The Spouse.
-While I technically had a vacation day, my boss forgot I was out of the office and emailed me all day with stuff, which I responded to and took care of.  Until it was time to attend a 3pm meeting.  Then he was not happy I took such a long lunch.

The heat and ungodly humidity is back just in time for the weekend.

My laugh for the day

http://www.happyplace.com/3080/the-7-most-brilliantly-pointless-street-fliers

Kitchen remodel

Today is the longest day ever.  Ok, not as long as my 8th grade science class, but close (apologies to Mr. Kinnear.)  The humidity has broken.  It's still in the 90's, but a much drier heat.  I want to be outside!

I took the Dynamic Duo to the dentist this morning.  Batman has no cavities.  Neither does Robin, but he does have an anomoly of weak enamal on his tooth that has to be filled.  Coincidentally, so does Sally.  Hmm.  So, like Sally, Robin will need to go in for a filling.  I'm hoping The Spouse can do it.  Not that I'll be all emotional about my baby getting gassed, more like I don't want to deal with the screaming before/after.  I took two kids to the dentist today, the least he can do is take one for the follow up.

Following the appointment, I took the kids to an early (for me), dropped them off at school, and came in to the office.  I'm used to having my hour lunch to read, go for a walk, and get away from C-SPAN.  Gah!!  I'm losing my mind.  Only 1.5 hours to go.

Our kitchen remodel begins Thursday.  We still have a bit to pack up in the kitchen, but I would say we are over halfway there.  We have moved the china cabinet and bookshelf.  Tonight we will move the microwave cart and pack up the dishes (and pick up the new microwave).  Tomorrow night, we will do whatever is left.  I'm not looking forward to the process, but I am looking forward to a more functional kitchen.  We have been told it will take four weeks.

Our townhouse is a piece of shit.  The builders did not have a buyer for it prior to completion, so it was not upgraded at all.  It has a poor layout, awkward angles, and dead space.  When you combine that with builder grade materials, you get a piece of shit. 

This week marks our eight year anniversary of living in the POS.  Why have we been there that long?  The neighborhood is good, with excellent amenities.  It's close to stores, daycare, The Spouse's office, the freeway.  But, most importantly, it's cheap.  We bought it before we had kids, and just before the market really took off.  We are one of our few neighbors that is not underwater in our mortgage (thank you, God!).  We are lazy.  We could sell it and buy a SFH, but we would have to do a ton of cleaning and maintainence on a larger, more demanding home(see: We are lazy).  Someday, we will move but for now we live in our cheap POS.  We spend our leftover (small amount - two kids in daycare) money taking vacations.  We visit our families.  We buy new clothes.  We bought the Batmobile last year.  These are all things we couldn't do if we bought a large SFH.  This is a crazy thought in America in this age, but we live below our means.  However, we foresee the day that we will sell or rent out the POS townhouse, and we are updating/upgrading it tpward that goal.  The kitchen is the first (and largest) step.  We hope to get to enjoy it for a few years before we move. 

Helter Skelter in a summer swelter

My God, it is hot out there.  The heat wave that baked the Midwest earlier this week has landed in DC.  Hot, humid, flesh melting. 

I miss Central California heat.

Today's Civics Lesson

All political conversations in Washington this summer seem to start and end with the debt limit.  For example, “Any news about the debt discussion?” “Same old stalemate.  When do you think the Senate will act on Ag Approps?”  “Not until a deal is reached on the debt.” 

The U.S. government hit the debt ceiling on May 16th, and Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner told Congress he would have to suspend investments in federal retirement funds until August 2nd in order to create room for the government to continue borrowing in the debt markets.  No one knows exactly what will happen if the debt ceiling isn’t raised by August 2nd, but the general consensus is that can’t be good.  One Senator has compared this summer to the movie “Groundhog Day”.  It’s a fitting analogy. 

This dilemma challenges House and Senate leadership to prioritize which legislation will be deemed important enough – or sufficiently “completed” – to earn floor time. The issues likely to reach critical mass are dwindling to a precious few.

See, kids, government can be fun!

(Obviously, I ripped the graphic off from NBC.  Just in case there was any confusion.)

Thanks Mom(s)!

Nearly everyone has another mother.  Not the woman who raised them, bathed them, punished them, or made their birthday cake.  I'm talking about the other mother.  The woman who lived next door or across the street.  Your best friend's mom or mom's best friend.  A favorite aunt or a kind teacher who took a special interest in you.  The Other Mother. 

I have been very lucky and blessed to have been the beneficiary of several Other Mothers.  Some have come and gone in my life (we moved a lot as I grew up), there for a particular time or purpose when I needed them.  Others have been lifelong Other Mothers that are now Other Grandmothers to my children.  Every one of them have taught me something about what it means to love a child and what it means to be a woman.

My Other Mothers have taught me to cook, listened to secrets, driven carpool, let me hang out in their homes, corrected my manners, indulged my strong personality, and blasted favorite Madonna songs in the car.  My Other Mothers weren't perfect.  They weren't a replacement for my mom.  They weren't necessarily women I aspired to be, but they all loved me, looked out for me, and made me feel safe and secure.

One of my Other Mothers recently passed away.  It's been 20+ years since she was a regular part of my life.  I went away to college, moved across the country, got married and started a family of my own.  It hasn't been until I became and adult and a mother that I really appreciated everything she did for me those four years she was my Other Mother.  I'm sure I drove her up the wall and was ungrateful, taking advantage of/for granted her hospitality and generosity. In recent years, I have begun to appreciate all of the sacrifices that she made for me, on top of what she did for her own kids, family, job, and life.  I am afraid I never properly thanked her for everything she did for me.  I wish I had.

I hope my children are lucky enough to have Other Mothers as wonderful as mine have been.  I hope that when a child I know needs anOther Mother, I'm wise enough to fill those shoes.  I hope I do as good a job for them as all my Other Mothers have done for me.

Thanks to the Other Mothers out there, both mine and everyone else's.  Your fingerprints and legacies will live on in our hearts and lives long after you have left us - or we have left you.

Photo shoot

I bought a Groupon for a photo shoot (I know, I know) hoping for the best but expecting the worst.  Robin gives the camera a stink eye every. single. time. he gets his photo taken.  It's just a part of his personality.  Batman grew up watching America's Next Top Model, so he knows to capture the light and smize at the camera. 

I had high hopes that having a photographer follow the children around for 1.5 hours would give me a pretty good selection to choose from - and it did.  For Batman.  Poor little Robin just doesn't have "it".  He will never be a finalist on ANTM. 

(all rights to these photos have been purchased by me, and I have the sole authority to authorize their use - MOM! - so don't copy/paste/photoshop/otherwise use without my explicit permission.)

I had some serious sister wife hair at the time of the shoot, and I miss it.  Not loving my suburban soccer mom 'do.

Crud

There is a crud going around my office and now I have it.  NO!  This is not acceptable.  I do not like to be sick in the summer.  Furthermore, it is my job, as a mother of young children in daycare, to bring the crud to the office, not the other way around.  Of course, the children will also get it.  This is simply unacceptable.

In other news, summer's humidity has descended upon DC.  I prefer Central Valley heat.  When it's in the triple digits, you can look at a thermometer and confirm it is indeed 111 degrees today.  Here, there is some convoluted heat index system that requires you to multiply temperature by humidity level by day of the month by how angry you are to sit in traffic.  Today's result - 105 degrees.

We had family game night last night.  Robin played an entire hand of Uno by himself - and WON!  I was very proud.  Of course, I was also coaching him.  Batman was a somewhat gracious loser.  We are grooming our children for college drinking games by requiring them to say, "Batmobile on the streets of Gotham" when playing a Batmobile card (Batman Uno deck, natch.)  Batman began doing it about a year ago, and now it's a game rule.  Only thing missing are the shots of Jaeger. 

Life has been a whirlwind lately.  Minor league baseball games, July 4th at Mt. Vernon, Smithsonian Folklife Festival, birthday and pool parties, swim lessons, getting (baby-no-more) Robin in his big boy bed, and preparing for the upcoming kitchen remodel.  Plates for the Batmobile have arrived, but I have yet to brave the heat to attach them to the car.  So I am still incognito when I'm out and about fighting crime. 

On that note, there is a Joker down the hall I better go deal with.

I'm big in Korea

I was about to post today's rant (which is basically what this blog is, a stream of conciousness longer than Facebook allows) when I noticed the ads were in Korean.  Korean!  I checked my stats and lo and behold, I have many Korean readers.  WOW!

I have visited your beautiful country once.  (Note: I am assuming that the readers are from South Korea, since I'm pretty sure the only person in North Korea with internet access is Kim Jong Il.  While I would be flattered to be followed by a fellow dictator, I'm not sure he understands the term "benevolent.")  It was an amazing visit.  The people are so friendly.  So, to all my Korean fans, kamsamnida!

To the Batmobile

It's not that I don't like personalized license plates, I do.  I like to sit in traffic and unravel what they say.  I like to recognize assholes that cut me off over and over again.  I like unique and clever word puzzles.  I like white Rabbits marked, "IM LATE."

Virginia is a great state for plate reading.  The state knows it has a good thing going for it, and it keeps fees low so people will continue buying/renewing them.  Over the years, I have contemplated several personalized plates.  "FAT DOG" and "MY ROX" were taken.  Somewhere out there in the great Commonwealth of Virginia, there are cars with plates that read, "CSUC" "CHICO ST" "BARBIE" and "CA GIRL" (and "CA GURL").  Everything that I've been interested in has been taken.

Last year, when I got the new car, the superheroes rallied around it.  It became their Batmobile.  They have a special nickname for it, and whenever we head to the car (daily and/or multiple times per day) they put their hands in the air and yell, "To the Batmobile."  So, this afternoon, when I renewed my registration, I scooped up BATMOBILE (or a facsimile thereof).  One day, it will embarrass them, but today is not that day.  I will enjoy my children while they are young.

Our washing machine has been given a DNR.  We bought it eight years ago, when we bought the house.  After leaking for a year, and getting worse and worse, The Spouse finally called a repairman.  He reported there are two major leaks.  Even if he fixed them ($200 each) the timer would likely go within a year.  No brainer.  Time to buy a new machine.  A little disappointing though, I had hoped this would last ten years.  But better to do it now.

Off to consult Consumer Reports...

Working Mother Fail

My entire morning was craptastic.  I dropped the kids off an school only to see a pile of gifts for Batman’s teachers that they were opening (spa robes!?!) and I got them nothing for the last day of school.  Dropped Robin off.  Got in the car, called The Spouse, and headed to Target where I power shopped a straw tote bag of summer stuff for the teachers (beach towels, freezer pops, water bottle, chocolate, sunscreen) and thank you notes.  Went home to non-stop dog barking while I artfully arranged the totes and left them on the table for The Spouse to retrieve and deliver, then headed to 395. 

Thankfully, I heard about the Pentagon suspicious vehicle mess before driving into it.  I stayed on the main line.  Got off to pee.  Drove through town to Columbia Pike, took 50 to 66 to DC. 

Arrived at 10:25.  Probably an hour later than I would have been due to the traffic. 

Fickle Fashionista

I have 27 t-shirts for my 2.5 year old son.  TWENTY SEVEN!!  Yet, every single morning is a fight because I don't have seven cars/hot wheels/superhero shirts. 

27 short sleeved t-shirts, people. 

Ungrateful child.

My School-ager

Batman's new backpack arrived yesterday.  He was so excited and could not stop grinning.  He was thrilled that it was camo - even if it was only blue camo and not green camo.  He loved his initials.  He loved the pockets.  He kept putting it on to model and showing us what he will look like when he is a "school-ager" (his term).  So cute.  So very very cute.  Last night, he stuffed it full of toys to take to school today.  I had to override him on some, but his classroom is getting cleaned out for the summer camp group starting next week, so they are allowed to bring in their own toys this week.  I managed to cram his lunch in there somehow.  He looked so big going off to school today.  His classmates were not as excited about it, but they can bite me.  He was adorable.  I need to get a picture.

If I could save time in a bottle

I have been very nostalgic and sad lately that my babies are growing up.  Part of me is trying to come to terms with the fact that The Spouse doesn't seem to want any more kids.  Part of me is just sad that these babies are little boys now.  Baby Robin barely fits in his crib and will be in a Big Boy Bed sometime this summer.

Yesterday, I was overcome in the Costco parking lot by the thought that in a year or two Batman won't hold my hand in the parking lot anymore.  I held on tightly, then he slipped his hand out of mine on the sidewalk.  Sigh.  Where did my baby go?