Snogging

Snogging.



In case you don't know what that word means, I'll tell you in a bit. In fact, Bailey told me today what it meant. She started a conversation mentioning the word, "snogging," then asking my alerted brain if I knew what it meant, which meant she wasn't actually asking me, she was going to tell me. Now the British naturally know what this word means, because well, it's a British slang term of sorts. And if you're a Harry Potter fanatic much like myself (who has been wild about Harry for years and years and corrupted many other poor unsuspecting souls and lured them to the dark side) then you probably know what this word means through reading the best books in the universe and would understand fully why I wasn't so sure I wanted it explained to me by a four year old, even if it is purely innocent.


But I allowed her to tell me anyway. What harm could it do, right?


www.Dictionary.com version:

snogging
noun
(British informal) cuddle and kiss
WordNet® 3.0, © 2006 by Princeton University.





Bailey's definition:

"It means you're squeezing snot out of your nose."





Her version probably makes more sense, especially since she just made the word up today.

Now you will no longer wonder...and neither will I.

New House Numbers

We have new numbers.


For whatever reason, we were issued new house numbers yesterday...by Bailey. She came home from preschool and announced that she needed to cut out some numbers, color them and tape them on our walls. And even though she didn't do it right at that moment, she remembered approximately six hours later and executed her plan then.



And yes, she picked out where they went too.

Sushi Chef

Last year, I made Bailey's class sushi in celebration of the Chinese New Year. I know, I know, sushi isn't exactly Chinese, but hey, it's not like preschoolers know that, right? So, I made them sushi, and just to make you Chinese enthusiasts happy, I gave them fortune cookies and chopsticks too. But this year, I wanted to be different, I wanted to push the envelope, be original, widen horizons, change their worlds, so I made them, you guessed it. Sushi.

Hey! I honestly tried to be different! But the idea of mixing chocolate and chow mein noodles together had me gagging (and still does for that matter) and I wasn't sure about some of those Chinese cake options or that I would even be able to find the ingredients in a real store. An Asian Market, sure, but trust me, I've been down that road before and spent way too much money on items I sadly, barely used.

So I took on the role of Sushi Chef again. And I bought fortune cookies again and chopsticks. Again. But I did go a bit further. We found these rice crackers in the Asian foods section at Target (and they smelled so gross when I smelled them at her school this morning) and we also brought some crafty items and Bailey's favorite, a pinata (not very Chinese, I know). I think I miss doing these types of things like I did when I had my own class, and yeah, I know that was a long time ago, get over it, but hey, that's my idea of a good time! I'm a party girl, just not the kind of party girl frat boys expect when you say you like to party. Disappointing, definitely. Unless you're a four year old.

Last year, making sushi happen out of rice krispies and Fruit by the Foot was almost daunting. I remember wrestling with that stuff and getting in a violent brawl. It was almost loud enough to be considered a domestic disturbance. But this morning, it was quick and painless and even serene. I didn't fight with the cereal. I'm not even sure I raised my voice. I don't even think we glared at one another or gossiped about the other behind the other's back. We were friendly and content and got a long like soul mates. It was an impressive improvement. Like a toxic relationship with a counselor or a high strung personality on valium.

As for class time, I hung with the kids out of fear of pressing my luck a third time with icy traffic. They poked faux sushi rolls, had some rather interesting fortunes, put some tissue paper on paper dragons, and beat the life out of a dragon. They even seemed genuinely interested in the Chinese New Year. But hey, who doesn't like a holiday? Or sushi? (Okay, so forget the latter.)

Icy Conditions

I crashed early last night, probably something to do with the sinus and allergy medicine I'd taken. And although I woke up several times throughout the night, the time I decided perhaps I really should get up was when I heard the scraping of ice off a car windshield. One of the problems with crashing so early last night and succumbing to this sinus infection's ploys was that I had things to do the night prior in preparation for today. So when I awoke to that scraping noise, I thought maybe, just maybe school could be canceled and then I wouldn't feel guilty for not getting the treats made or rather have to pry myself out of bed to make them right then.

But alas, school was not canceled, of course.

The treats were made rather quickly and I forced Bailey's behind out of bed. Now the issue with ice and snow outside is that I have to go out and scrape said ice or snow (or both) off the car and while doing that, apparently Bailey isn't capable of existing solo. At least that's how it seems because I always come back inside to the same results. She hadn't eaten anymore of her breakfast while I had been outside. And when I had to check on the car again later and scrape some more ice, she couldn't manage to put on any of her clothing without my presence either. Naturally, this doesn't make me happy at all.

We were incredibly late at this point because of our (her) inability to do anything for ourselves (herself) without constant nagging and coaching; and the story was going to end there. I had planned this blog entry just to complain about when it snows or sleets, I have to go outside, freeze my limbs off and come inside to instant chaos or the idea of time stopping completely, because life can't go on if I'm not present. (It's a fitting thought though, isn't it?)

Unfortunately, my story doesn't get to end as originally intended. We got out of our driveway and not even a mile from our house when I slowly entered the left turn lane, slowly braked for a red light and my car slid into the median, completely around so we ended up taking up two lanes. (We only hit the median though, fortunately nothing else.) I was facing the median at this point, and in case you've never driven before, you're not supposed to face the median. Great. Now we'd never make it school in order to celebrate the Chinese New Year. About this time is when I realized I'd left my purse and cell phone behind. Luckily, all of the cars surrounding us kept their distance, and for whatever reason, I decided to see if we could get ourselves out of this position, and we did without any other complications. I was shaken up, as anyone would be at the thought of hitting against concrete with their child in the back of the car.

But we marched on (or drove in this case) and made it safely to school, severely late (like that's unusual) and as we brought in our goodies, I noticed the treats hadn't made it in. I thought I'd just grab them out of the car, but my purse hadn't been the only thing I left at home as I left in a fury due to my anger with the slow dresser/eater. I had to head back.

I made it home quickly (and without rushing), managed to grab my purse and treats, drove with caution to the exact place I had skidded before without any issues and as I waited for my green arrow, I felt something. I thought nothing about it until I looked behind me and could see part of a car, but not their front end. That's because they were far closer to me than they should have been, like in my bumper. This caused me to not take the arrow and instead considered getting out to assess the damage, but I didn't want to hold up the line, so I turned when I could and was planning on pulling over to do so then and make sure the other driver was fine, but instead of taking the turn in the turn-only lane, they ended up driving straight. Apparently they didn't want to assess the damage.

That's one wonderful thing about having a Rubbermaid bumper, they're difficult to injure. There wasn't any evidence of foul play or icy conditions on the car, and I headed inside Bailey's school with the treats finally in hand. And I wasn't planning on leaving until preschool was over. I wasn't chancing that turn lane a third time today. No way, no how.

...And an ox-some New Year

Some of you may not be aware today begins the Chinese New Year. And some of you may know because you found out from me. Then there are those of you who already knew because you're just that darn smart. Either way, today's the day.

As for the ox-some part, it is the year of the Ox. Awesome, ox-some. Get it? Hey, I'm entitled to a silly pun every now and then.

Yeah, when I made this year's cards, Daddy said no one would get the joke or that it had to do with it being the year of the ox...

I know, I know. You knew it all along. I'll tell Daddy he shouldn't have doubted you.

Big Girls Don't Cry

Rather, can't cry.


That's right, I can't cry. Now I've been accused of lacking emotion a few times in my life, but this is ridiculous. I'm thinking I have some sort of sinus infection because I feel really clogged, and one of the additional issues is this overwhelming heaviness around my eyes, similar to allergies, but mostly like that sensation you get when you're trying to fight back tears. I don't have a lot of practice with that one, being one of those stubborn and emotionless creatures who seriously has never been much of a crier, but I do suddenly feel like I need to cry, but I can't. I can't cry.


I've tried everything. Out of pure desperation, I even laid down on the couch and turned the television on (which is a big step for me) and turned it to the Lifetime Movie Network (egads, right?) and some sappy movie was on, just as I'd guessed (because do they show anything else?) and I could not cry. And it was one of those ones about foster kids. I mean, even someone reserved and hateful like me should be able to cry over foster kids with a drug addicted mother, right? Wrong. I could not cry. Not even a drop. And I wanted to. I really thought it'd help. I was desperate, I tell you. Desperate.


When Lifetime wouldn't work, I knew I was stuck. But I was still determined. I thought about the darkest days of my life. I thought about how it felt the first two times Dubbya was elected. I thought about even more saddening thoughts, and hypothetically traumatizing questions like what if my political candidate choices hadn't won? I thought about what life would be like if I couldn't eat chocolate again. I even thought about the day Sinatra died, and I promised I'd never go there again.


And then when morose wasn't working, I went to happy thoughts like the day my Bailey was born. Nothing. Not a thing. I thought about the night I laughed myself to tears during the movie Sweet November (possibly one of the worst ever) all because I had glanced over and saw a certain man (and I'm not one to name names) crying, yes crying and I just lost it. I was laughing so hard that everybody in the theatre was looking at me. But at least my eyes were just as red from tears as everybody else, just a different sort of tears. But not even that day could make me cry. Severely depressing didn't work, happiest day of my life didn't work. And I just knew that if I could cry, I'd feel better. I just knew it.


Well, I still can't cry. I'm still some empty vessel, deprived of emotion, or at least the ability to show emotion. The only difference, my eyes probably look like I've spent weeks crying, which isn't normal, so perhaps that's a plus that I look capable of emotion. I at least look like just another emotional and hormonal mother who watches Lifetime movies with a box of Kleenex at her side. (Yeah, I can't picture that being me either, but I had to put it out there.)


It's never bothered me much before that I don't cry at every little thing, even though, I am just as guilty as the next person to occasionally cry through an awful movie or at some sappy ending. Honest. It's happened a few times. I just don't cry on demand or during those moments when most normal people cry, those times it's expected of you. Call me a rebel or something, but it doesn't make me cry. But if I could cry right now, like I wish I could, I would, believe me. Because this sinus infection and lack of tearing thing is worth a box of Kleenex. I'd cry just to be able to cry.


Maybe watching Tears of Endearment would help....

The Color Yellow

The color yellow is popular around here. It's even on the walls in our redhead's bedroom. Very few people look good in the color yellow, but my Bailey is one of them and I think I kind of like it. I look ridiculous in yellow, so it's like some sort of redemption for the color. Although, I am convinced Bailey looks good in basically any color.



The first time I saw these shoes, I fell in love with them. And then imagine my surprise when I went to purchase them from my absolute favorite children's store (Gymboree, duh) and they were $9.99 instead of almost $30. (That was bizarre because the line they were from hadn't been out even two weeks.) Regardless, I was ecstatic. (And they are the exact colors of Bailey's blue and yellow bedroom.)

Well, Bailey wore them this past week, including on Friday. It was the most appropriate activity for rubber shoes, being in a room full of water. So cute too! They're yellow, what's cuter than a pair of yellow and blue clogs? I can't think of anything else either, except maybe her cat shoes.



Well, that evening, Bailey was in her socks and commented on her yellow socks. Now, it would make sense since she was wearing yellow, but those socks weren't originally yellow. No, they were white. And now they're not. They're bright yellow. BRIGHT. And they weren't before she put on the shoes. Are you following? It's suddenly becoming clear why they were under $10. It's all making sense to me now.

Oh well. Good thing we like the color yellow, right?

The Expert on Pain

We were playing at our favorite Friday hangout, and Bailey stumbles on some stairs and I asked the usual, "are you okay?" This seemed to be followed by, a "yeah," and "I'm the expert of pain." Now of course, my ears were deceiving me, just as I worry they often do when it comes to my redhead, because she seriously can't be saying some of the phrases I think I hear.

Since my ears were clearly wrong, I asked my dear child what she said and she replied, "I'm the expert of pain." And just when I thought perhaps I'd heard wrong the second time as well, Bailey added, "I'm the expert of hurting too." I tried not to laugh or inquire further as I had those images of those people who get adrenaline rushes from being injured or of a person whose whole life is based on pain and they get so used to it they're numb, like antibiotics not working anymore or something. It was difficult.

But none of it was hard to believe since she does fall a lot (she inherited my grace), and bump into walls and rumble and tumble like a bouncy ball. It's rather impressive that she deals with it so well with barely ever any tears. She has rightfully earned her title of expertise on the subject.

And just as I'd come to that conclusion, Bailey also decided she was the "expert of throwing things in the air," and "eating." I'm not as confident in the truth of both of those, especially the latter, but then again, I'm no expert. Not even on her most days.

The Inaugural Outfit

It seems like all the tabloids could ponder for a while was what Michelle Obama was going to wear to the Inaugural Ball. I'm not sure I actually cared, just as long as the Inauguration happened. But apparently, her outfit of choice wasn't the only one people were curious about.



While at Wonderscope on Monday, this woman (we've never met before) asked us if Bailey was dressed up and ready for the Inauguration in her red, white, and blue. (I was shocked she brought it up, since some people still don't want to acknowledge the dawn of a new era. I'm also not sure I could just ask a total stranger about such a topic in fear of offending them.)

I answered her, "no, but we have one in mind."

And I did, until later when I remembered it was pajama week at preschool.



Well, that works too. (As for the outfit I had planned, the world may never know...)

Blood on a platter: A Vampire Family's Meal

Tuesday evening was deemed Fondue night by well, yours truly. And to go along with our cheese fondue, I decided to cook up some basic steak. First, I needed to trim it so I could get it ready for a bath in olive oil and a sprinkle (or much, much more) of my favorite herbs. Bailey watched intently as I carefully took a knife to the slabs of meat. She then had to ask about this tiny little maroon dot towards the middle of the steak. But before she let me answer, she enthusiastically announced it was blood.

This possible identity of the maroon dot was then followed by "WE'RE GOING TO EAT BLOOD?" And just when I was ready to move this conversation, Bailey then continued to point out, "But I thought only vampires eat blood."

I think I now understand why perhaps I don't eat all that much meat. It may also explain why Bailey refused to have any part in this dinner.

Blood: it's what's for dinner.

Took the dog for a walk

If that's what you want to call it.

She may have walked to the park with us, but this is how she returned home...by her request.

Dethroned

Sometime last year, April actually, Bailey saw this chair in a Kohl's store and really, really wanted it. I'm not sure why. I guess every royal highness needs her royal throne and so, as unsuspecting as I could, I purchased it for her birthday. And there it magically appeared on the big 4, and ever so loved.



Now we're going to flash forward to yesterday around lunch time when I discovered my child peed her pajamas (it's pajama week at Preschool) using the excuse that she just simply "didn't make it to the bathroom in time." Furthermore, it was because she was checking out her Pixos, and well, "these things happen sometimes." No they don't, redhead.

I was livid at her reasoning even more than her actions. And I told her it was going to have to be thrown out now (which was almost a blessing since I could not get that cushion cleaned to save my soul). She replied to this notion with a confident, "that's okay, I have other chairs. And they're cleanable. I can just clean them with a wipe next time." Excuse me???!

Now this is where Daddy (who was just as irritated as I was when I shared the happening with him) would probably say, "not everyone needs to know every story," but it's pertinent nonetheless because I did indeed throw the chair out. Oh yes. I absolutely threw the chair out. But what happened next is why I'm sharing this humiliating tale at all.

In less than an hour after tossing out the urine-soaked throne it vanished. I kind of have to laugh. I'm all about keeping items from the landfills, but there was seriously a reason this thing was trashed. But I guess the new owner will learn that lesson the hard way.

The important thing, the princess has been dethroned based on her attitude and disrespect of her belongings.

I never thought I'd say this...

...until I did.

Today.



"Come on Bailey, hurry, we have to get home and watch t.v."

Every day is a holiday

Of course, today is no exception as obvious by the cupcakes I made early this morning for Bailey's preschool class.


There's always a reason to celebrate, especially now.

The Sound Heard Around the World

We spent our Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday at Wonderscope. Kid's Day Out wasn't in session, and a special day calls for a special celebration. It was one of the most crowded times we've ever been to the children's museum (and a strict contrast from when we had just visited the prior Friday when there were only a handful of families). But during the day's celebration, we ended up partaking in a drumming exhibition. Bailey was so excited that she was going to be a part of this and I didn't know what to expect, yet as it was taking place, it definitely wasn't anything I would have ever considered. But whatever it was, you probably heard us, because I'm 100% sure it was the loudest room in the world from 1 to 1:45 pm this afternoon.

It ended up becoming a room full of drumming and dancing and everyone involved.



What a way to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr.! Bailey was a dancing queen beyond Abba's standards, and even with the loud drumming from every participant, she still managed to take a time out from her borrowed silver drum to rest on my lap.



The event was incredibly amazing to witness and as we walked to our car afterwards, Bailey was convinced that even our dog Fudge could have heard it at our house. I don't doubt it.

Gross comes to mind...

For some unknown reason, my child decided French kissing the dog was endearing. Don't worry, I pointed out to her the high amount of disgust in such an act, especially since the dog spends so much time licking her rear. And yes, I really did explain it to her in that sort of way.



I'm guessing I just turned your "awww" moment into an "ewww." I try my best.