Why Mom can't be a rocker (at least not right now)

Usually, I put the pictures at the end of a post. Tell the story first and follow with the funny visuals. But for this post, I need you to look at my son. He looks sweet, no? Sensitive? Intelligent? Yes, in fact, he does. So how did the following conversation happen?

I emerge from my bedroom with my best 'Praise Team gig' outfit. We are singing at a church in Itasca. We sing Christian rock, so I'm dressed pretty casually - jeans, t-shirt, cool shoes (I know they're cool because my Dad hates them). I think I look alright. So, I jump in front of Pearce in my best power-guitar move and...

Mom - "So, do I look like a rocker?" (sticks out tongue like Gene Simmons)

Pearce - "Not really..."

Mom - "What? I totally look like a rocker."

Pearce - "No, I'll tell you why after you get home."

Mom (a little concerned now) - "Well, if you tell me now, I can go change."

Pearce - "It's not something you can change.....easily."

Mom (panic setting in, smile fading) - "Are you telling me I'm too old to be a rocker?"

Pearce - "No, it isn't your age."

Mom (panic stricken) - "Pearce, are you about to tell me that I'm too fat to be a rocker?"

At this point, Pearce puts his hands up and shrugs his shoulders in a gesture that means "yes, and that's why I didn't want to tell you until you came home."

*sigh*

From this point, I have choices in where to go with the blog posting. I can tell you about the conversation we had when I was pregnant about how sensitive women are regarding their weight and how we use words like "showing" and "glowing" instead of "huge" or "enormous."

I can list the MANY rockers who enjoy their dessert as much as I do - Meat Loaf, Notorious B.I.G., Winona, Aretha Franklin.

I could recount to you the agony I had ordering at Dairy Queen that night after we played at the church in Itasca and how I denied myself the Blizzard that called to me.

But, I'll end with this - I might need to lose a few pounds. Not to be a rocker, but to catch Pearce the next time he calls me fat.

Kimono Rose by any other name...

I received a wonderful, wonderful gift from my parents last week. A gift card to Central Market. What an absolute joy it was to walk through the store and buy nothing but splurge items. Olives, ginger beer, a chocolate raspberry tart, linen spray, etc.

I walked by the 'smelly stuff' (so named by my boys) and stopped once again at the Kimono Rose section by a company called Thymes. I've smelled it a thousand times at every salon or boutique that carries the Thymes products. The Kimono Rose scent makes me happy. Could I bring myself to spend $30 of my precious gift card on lotion? Even a lotion as delicious smelling as Kimono Rose???

I weighed my options and went for the $5.00 package of Kimono Rose bath salts. I felt satisfied that I'd splurged, but not gone crazy.

So, yesterday was a wonderful, rare Saturday. There was no baseball, no soccer, no church, no NOTHING. We all just hung around the house for a change. When the little boys were down for their nap, I decided it was my chance to try out the bath salts.

I drew the water as hot as I could and poured in the salts. Kimono Rose wafted all around me - enveloping me in its addictive and decadent smell.

I grinned because I rarely get to go to the restroom alone. Stone follows me everywhere, even offering to flush for me BEFORE I'm done with my business. Cade fills my day with joy, but also lots and lots of moist stuff that can't be named in the same posting as Kimono Rose. And here I was. Alone. With a book. Heaven.

You see where this is headed, right?

There's a knock at the door and Chad walks in with an undeniably cute baby. He's still sleepy, and he's giving those 'just-woke-up' smiles that are my favorite. I'm not sure how the suggestion came up. I don't remember saying yes nor taking my lovely hot water and adding cold to it - but the baby ended up in the tub with me. And of course, the big boys started yelling at each other from another part of the house. So Chad leaves, and I am sitting there with my cherubic baby, who is splashing and giggling. I think, "this isn't too bad" as I feel the cool water getting warmer.

In my world, even in my place of sanctuary, Kimono Rose by any other name is still baby pee in my bathwater.

Likeness

People are always telling me that Cade looks just like his Daddy, and it's true. I don't deny it at all.


However, for the sake of humor, I submit evidence that Cade looks like many people (none of which are me).

For instance, the character actor, Jonathan Banks:

Or the great and iconic Robert De Niro:

My personal favorite, Billy Bob Thornton in Slingblade:

Red Skelton:

Yes, even Orsen Wells:

So, see? He's really quite the chameleon.

Am I bitter that my baby looks nothing like me?

Maybe.

A little.

But that's not the point.

Really.

Behave as though they are watching...

I've been meaning to blog this experience for some time. I'm still pretty affected by it. Let me explain:

My friend KT and I recently made a trip through the Starbucks drive through window for a refreshing coffee beverage. When I pulled up to the ordering speaker, I was greeted by Invisible-But-Overly-Friendly-Barista. She said hello, inquired about our day, and asked what we'd like.

I'm not sure about the details, but the ordering process became funny and KT and I were laughing and Invisible Lady was laughing. Then, I moved the hair out of my eyes and my invisible friend on the other end of the speaker said, "Flip those bangs, girl!"

*stunned silence*
*Dori and KT look at each other with wide eyes*
*inner monologue - "Can she see me?"*
*crickets chirruping*

Finally, I ask her how she knew I had flipped my bangs and she laughs and directs my attention to the teeny, tiny camera above the speaker.

There it is. Capturing me. I have one of those flash-back movie montage moments where every sarcastic eye-roll, every nose-scratch (I swear I wasn't picking!!!), every screaming-at-my-kids moment is brought back from the past and played in my brain with agonizing detail.

The question in my mind wasn't "How many times have I behaved badly without knowing I was being watched?" but rather, "How many other drive through windows have these cameras?"

I wish I could say I lived every day knowing that God's little camera is watching me. I wish I could tell you that I never rolled my eyes at the person taking my order. I wish I could tell you all the hidden camera locations (*smile*). Alas, all I can tell you is that when I'm ordering anything from Starbucks, or Arby's, or McDonald's, I put on my finest Dori and I smile for the camera, whether or not it's there.

If only I would remember to apply that concept to my entire life.

A good day

Today was a good day. Stone and Daddy went fishing by themselves for the first time. Cade and I met them at the lake for a late afternoon dinner. What great weather for something like this! Of course, I took 14,857 pictures.

I learned a few new things today.

Stone can cast and reel for H-O-U-R-S. He is more and more like Chad every day. Maybe that's why he's such a mystery to me. He whined when I told him to come get dinner. So, I tried to sweeten the deal and asked him to come get chips and cookies (a sure bet at my house). He still threw a fit that he had to quit 'fishing'.


Stone has a very, very short temper when it comes to technical difficulties. The line would get would around the end of the pole and...well, all hell broke loose. Crying, screaming, throwing. Again, very much like his Daddy (who will hopefully never stumble across this post).



I learned that Cade is coming into his personality even more and he's going to be a charmer.

He's either going to be a politician:


Or a rock star:


I learned that I have a truly huge mouth. I thought this picture would turn out cute, but I just look like I'm going to eat my child.

I learned that I'm jealous of my children's eyelashes!


Ahh, yes, it was a good day for lessons. A good day to be outside. A good day, indeed.

Trifecta

The other night at Praise Team practice, my old boss (who is also our sound board guy) was telling us about his bad, stressful week. I shuddered inside because I used to share those weeks with him. I thought about my worst, most recent day...

Stone is potty training, and doing a good job, save for the poop - he just doesn't want to go #2 in the potty. So, I hear him yelling at me from his room and I go to investigate. I find him totally naked and the smell of poop assaults me. Where, I ask myself, are his underwear???

They are upside down on our favorite color book.

And they are stuck to the book with poop.

Now, I forgot to tell you that I'm holding the baby during this. As I bend down to get the underwear with my fingertips, the baby throws up on me. I'd use "spit up" if it applied. My baby went Linda Blair on me. And I was wearing a v-neck. So, now I've got a baby in one hand and a poop-filled pair of Diego underwear in the other hand and baby vomit is running down my front - into my bra, onto my stomach...

I make a dash for the kitchen to throw away the soiled book and undies and grab a paper towel to clean myself.

Let me backtrack a moment here - though I'm sure it will give the next part of my story away. We keep a potty seat in the kitchen to make it easy for Stone to go whenever he wants.

As I'm running into the kitchen, I clip the potty chair.

It isn't empty.

So, now I'm standing in the kitchen with a giggling baby in one hand, poop drawers in my other hand, baby vomit on my front (which has reached my waistband), and my right flip-flop (flip flops being important to your mental picture) and foot soaked with toddler pee.

Lessons learned:

1. Don't leave favorite books (or toys or pets or baby siblings) on the floor during the potty training stage.

2. Clean out potty chairs as soon as pee-pee happens.

3. A good sense of humor (and the promise of a good blog post) is imperative to parental sanity.

4. It was still better than a day in a cubicle.

Learning to eat is messy business

Confession time. Potty training and solid foods are two of my least favorite developmental milestones. I feel a tremendous amount of anxiety when my kids are learning to use the potty (like the not-going-out-of-the-house kind of anxiety). Also, I can't stand feeding a baby solid foods when they spit most of it out onto their belly. Especially when they are teething simultaneously. That means there will be drool mixed with spit-out food. A combination that I, once again, think belongs to something out of a John Carpenter movie.

Thankfully, I have an 8-year-old. And he thinks that watching a baby eat solid foods is the funniest thing since Spongebob split his pants. Instead of stressing, I just invite Cole to come watch, shuck the baby's clothes, throw him into a plastic containment center (i.e. high chair), and get the camera out. What results is good for immediate AND future laughter.

Here are some pictures of the last two 'sessions'.

Happy start to a feeding session...mom forgot a bib

This expression made me laugh

Again, he is seriously concentrating on eating.

I'm pretty sure he's using the force to get the spoon closer to his mouth.
Doesn't he look like Quado from Total Recall?
This is the face you make after gagging yourself with a spoon.
(Imagine him laughing like Popeye)

Look for my next post - Potty training is messy business. (Just kidding)

I'm in love

Every one of my children is a beautiful enigma to me. I can't express how amazed I am that THESE are my kids. They are all supremely different from one another and yet all COMPLETELY perfect for me. If you've read my blogs from when Cade was born, you'll remember me doing some whining about how slow he was in forming a personality. What's the saying about good things and waiting?

H-O-L-Y C-O-W, I'm in love with this baby. When he's laid back, his dead-pan expression cracks me up. He literally stares at me with no expression until I feel his eyes boring into me. Once I look at him, no expression turns to wiggle-grin. He waits for my attention.

Today, I seriously started worrying about introducing him to solids. I can't get him to eat rice cereal because he won't stop laughing long enough to swallow. He ends up spewing it all over himself and me in fits of laughter. What on earth is so funny about the way I feed him? I haven't the foggiest, but we are both sitting there getting doused and laughing at each other.






And, what is so funny about a diaper change? I can only guess that it's the cool air on his 'man parts.' But, that doesn't explain why he cracks up when I'm changing his clothes. All three of my older ones screamed bloody murder when I changed their tops. Like I was trying to garrote them with their own shirt. Cade finds it incredibly amusing.

I'm in love. I'm blessed. I'm incredibly amazed at God's willingness to entrust me with these treasures.

Princess Bride makes me laugh.
Anchorman makes me snort drinks through my nose.
Funniest Home Videos makes me wonder why I don't have my video camera out more often.

But these kids, they make me smile in the deepest parts of my heart. They make me laugh through my bad days. They inspire me, encourage me, and entertain me. They are my very tangible reminders of grace. Of mercy.

Dr. Seuss' Pot Roast

A little background - I've just learned to cook this year. My family didn't starve before I became Stay-at-Home-Mom-Extraordinaire, but we ate mostly spaghetti, meatloaf, or pizza.

I learned several things about food in the past year. For instance, using rice vinegar instead of cider vinegar in a sauce for meatballs renders a good flavor, but literally singes the nostrils as it cooks.

Sugar-in-the-raw does NOT cook the same as regular sugar.

Thyme is not a great substitute for Rosemary in a recipe called "Rosemary Bread."

Dried cranberries are a MUCH favored replacement for raisins with my family in oatmeal raisin cookies.

Today, I learned a lesson in garlic. In my entire life (a whopping 36 years), I have never witnessed a weirder scientific reaction in a dish I was preparing.

I threw a bunch of ingredients into a slow cooker this morning and took off for church. When I got home, the house smelled so good - I couldn't help but go over and admire the pot roast that was in process.

Imagine my surprise as I approached the slow cooker and saw something teal-colored under the glass top. I opened the lid to discover this:





Is that TEAL garlic? I assure you, the garlic was white when I minced it. First thing to do - call Chad over to marvel at the garlic. Next step was to call my parents to ask them if they knew what the deal was. Final step, Google 'blue garlic'.

Turns out, there's a scientific reason why my garlic looks like something Sam I Am would hesitate to try. I won't bore you with the details, but it turns out that it's perfectly safe to eat teal garlic. Well, as long as it isn't teal when you buy it!

Here's a website that explains why my garlic turned blue. No, it wasn't holding it's breath because my cooking it that bad.
http://whatscookingamerica.net/Q-A/bluegarlic.htm

Child of Convenience

This has been an interesting year in lessons for me. I was laid off from my job in May, and Chad and I decided that we'd make the sacrifices necessary for me to stay home with the kids. The hardest lesson I learned was how NOT to spend money like we both still had jobs!

In an effort to be a good steward of my family's new financial situation, I started researching budgeting topics. The ones of most interest to me were related to my new job - so grocery shopping for a family of 6 without going broke! I found a website that had great information (www.budget101.com).

I learned that I could make my own...well, anything. I read the list with a growing excitement - this was going to be an adventure!

Make my own baby food - check!

Make my own bread - check!

Make my own pasta - check!

Make my own brownie mix - check!

Make my own........wait...what was that? Did they say I could make my own BROWNIE MIX??? You mean to tell me that the box of brownie mix I buy at the store is made from ingredients just ANYONE can walk into a store and buy? People made brownies before brownie mix?

Oh, but there was more. Did you know that people can make their own cake? CAKE without a CAKE MIX?? Onion soup mix, ranch dressing, refried beans, yogurt - you can make all of it without having to buy a package!

My mom and dad had a good laugh at me as I shared this revelation with them. I am a child of pre-packaged convenience. I am a remote control child. I am an indoor plumbing, color tv, video games, McNuggets, brownie-mix child.

I made my first batch of completely home-made brownies - in total wonderment. My children fell over themselves trying to get to them. They exclaimed for days that they were the best brownies EVER. And now, they ask me if everything I put in front of them is 'home-made-from-scratch.' They, too, are mystified at this new world where Convenience Mom has turned into Homemade Mom.

Facial Expressions

This one is really just for fun. I'm looking through pictures to take with me on a scrapbooking weekend in February and I find myself laughing at Cade's facial expressions. I give you permission to laugh at my baby.

"Are you really going to take pictures while this toy is being so agressive?"

"Why do you keep blinding me with that light box?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. Whatever."

"I don't think I like your tone of voice, Mr Lion. Don't make me go all ninja turtle on you. "

"Shhhh...wait...did you hear that?"

"We meet again, my musical toy nemesis. This time I will conquer your buttons."

"Paparazzi. You disgust me."

"Hey, Bubba, check out my De Niro imitation!"

"I just know this is going to end in a headbutt."

"God? Is that you in the musical toy?"

And finally, because he really is a cute baby, I'll end with these two pictures: