Tag Archives: motherhood

Gangsters, lumberjacks and yellow snow.

This …

mobilepart

is part of MP’s baby doll crib. Part of the mobile that connects to MP’s baby doll crib, to be exact. A girly thing.

Last night, MP emerged from her room, walked to the bathroom, and brandishing the pink plastic mobile part with both hands, looked at herself in the mirror.

“All right, let’s see what this baby can do.”
Snarly face. Machine gun sound.

Um, WHAT? (Trust me, it wasn’t easy to keep a straight face.)

“We don’t play guns, MP.”

“I’m not,” she says, still pointing her Tommy Gun at her reflection.

“Yes you are.”

And then, like the Master of Misdirection she is, MP began sawing the countertop.

“I was playing SAWS. This is a SAW. See?”

Okay, I know it’s more of a boy thing, and might sound a bit out of character for a four-year-old girl, but I gotta admit … I’m not really all that surprised.

This is the child who, earlier this week, as we were rushing into preschool purposefully spilled her lemonade from its sippy cup, leaving a yellow trail in the snow. Laughing to herself, and clearly VERY pleased with her effort, she noted that people were going to think it was pee.

“Heh heh.”

*sigh*

My daughter is Beavis.

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Filed under At Piece with Yourself

Don’t have a cow, Baby.

Our second full day in Hawaii and we hit the road, driving to the opposite end of the island. To see my very first volcano. I have to confess, this was the thing I was most excited to do.

Six women in a car + juvenille tendencies = BALL TALK.

Somehow we started talking about Rocky Mountain Oysters. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with Western Cuisine, are not really oysters. They’re bull balls. In this corner of the U.S. we even have a little annual something called the Testicle Festival.

So not kidding.

Cannonball spent summers working on her family ranch. And castrating cattle. Which is how I think the whole conversation started.

“So are all the sperm actually IN the balls when they’re cooked?”

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“So you’re eating fried sperm.”

“Uhh … maybe?”

“Gross.”

“Gag.”

“Have you ever tried them?”

“Yeah. They were … meaty.”

“Meaty?”

“Dude.”

“Meh.”

“Have YOU ever eaten them?”

“No way. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Yeah, what if you COULD get pregnant by eating balls?”

“Wait. You can’t?”

“That would suck.”

“BALLS.”

*BAHAHAHAHA*

“You’d have a cow-baby.”

“Inter-specie-al cow-baby.”

And then Cher came on the radio and started singing Half Breed.

Okay, not really, but that would’ve been AWESOME.

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Filed under Piece of Paradise

40 is the new 30, Baby.

As my flight neared touchdown, my initial reaction was nothing short of WTF? The view was less than stunning. To say the least. The elderly gentleman sitting beside me must have read my mind. Or my face. He offered reassurance that the acres of black rock were, in fact, lava flows, and that they did NOT cover the entire region.

He was right. The Big Island, with its rugged diversity of terrain, was nothing short of spectacular. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

All six of us arrived between 4 and 8 p.m., and after looong flights, our first night in Kona was spent relaxing and catching up at a local eatery. Most notable event of the evening — a MONGOOSE scurrying beneath tables on the patio while customers ate. I didn’t know it was a mongoose at the time. I would’ve put money on squirrel/rat cross breed.

Our rental house? BEAUTIFUL. HUGE. Three bedrooms, three baths, gorgeous furnishings, pool, you name it.

Oh yeah, and and THIS.

Second time in a month! What are the odds? Never mind that I totally clogged it with overzealous usage, you KNOW I was a happy girl.

The next day was spent at the beach — I made a solemn vow to not publish swimsuit photos, but I CAN show you this.

As we ventured into the ocean for the first time, this awesome sea turtle bumped into Finn’s leg, prompting her to yell, “That CREATURE just touched me” and beat a hasty retreat back to the shore. She and OnStar weren’t as into the whole water thing as the rest of us.

Landlubbers.

Surprisingly enough, I could’ve stayed in the water all day, every day. And I didn’t worry about sharks or stingrays OR jellyfish. I didn’t worry about anything. I DID wish MP was there to see the turtle though.

Later that night we did the full-on tourist thing and attended a luau. My only gauge being The Brady Bunch Goes to Hawaii episodes, I fully expected to be sitting around a blazing fire, eating poi and getting up only to dance with natives. Turns out reality isn’t quite so romantic. Reality looks more like a Bingo Parlor. Only outside.

It was AWESOME.

After paying our $70, we were HEAVILY encouraged to go to the bar. Um, okay.

Two drinks at a time. Two FREE drinks at a time. No limit.

Um, okay.

We’re moms. We’re good at following directions.

The drinks from the punch bowl were actually pretty weak. The bartender was more than happy to top our drinks off with an extra shot.

BTW, “Chile’s” former blog name was “Tea.” Remember, she got engaged a few weeks back? “Chile” just suits her personality better, especially now that she’s living there. Mkay, just wanted to clear that up.

The luau itself lasted two or three hours. We ate. We drank. We listened to music.

We drank.

We tried swinging some Poi Balls.

Stop it.

I’ll try [most] anything once.

That’s hot.

As the night wore on, there was a moment we all looked at each other and had the same thought.

“Do you have a buzz?”

“No. Do you?”

“Not at ALL. Do you?”

“Um, nooo.”

“How many have you had?”

“Six. You?”

“Five.”

Apparently, THAT’s how they can afford to offer open bar. And that shot of rum? Probably not much more than colored water. I still can’t believe I didn’t notice. I worked my way through college as a BARTENDER, for cripe’s sake. Shameful.

The performers have GOT think tourists are complete tools.

Yeah, they’d be right. Helluuu Poi Balls.

The dancers were fantastic, though, and all in all, totally worth the money.

The night was still fairly young when the luau came to a close, and being almost completely sober, AND IN HAWAII, we decided to find a bar. We found a place called Huggos, camped out outside at a table overlooking the sea, listened to some live music and made up for lost time.

I love that in the 25+ years we’ve known each other, we get together and we’re all so clearly the same people. With the same group dynamic. It’s like no time has passed.

And at one point, while everyone danced, I did this.

And 10 seconds later, I did this. Shot a really, really, REALLY poor quality camera phone video of Chile and Cannonball gettin’ down. Which should wrap this post up. At least you’ll get the feel of the place.

Tomorrow, I tackle the volcano.

WAIT! I HAVE been to a luau before! HOW could I forget THIS?!?

Seriously.

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Filed under Piece of Paradise

Hoda Phone

While I’m at it, here’s another little nugget from the web. Chalk up yet another great thing I had no idea existed … Once again, everyone’s probably LIGHT years ahead of me, but it’s definitely good for a laugh.

Anyhoo, I learned about it this morning when I saw Jenny McCarthy promoting her site In The Motherhood on the Today Show. The idea … genius. And really really funny. Have a looksee.

hoda.jpgAnd on that Today Show note, I gotta ask … just exactly how much does Hoda Kotb despise Natalie Morales? From the looks Hoda’s launching lately, I’m guessing a WHOOOOLE bunch.

Holy daggers.

Hoda, Hoda, Hoda. A big shout out to you, girlfriend, for entertaining me each morning with those lame attempts to mask your TRUE feelings.

I’m just sayin’ … when the fur starts flyin’, you heard it here first.

Original image (without twit bubble) borrowed from these guys.

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Filed under News Piece