tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75534918280754864862024-02-20T03:06:36.916-08:00CEOoftheCircusAndreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-20217806451108128702013-03-02T22:57:00.000-08:002013-03-02T22:57:31.961-08:00Turner Harlem ShakeI've been under a rock. Or working. But I didn't know until yesterday what the Harlem shake was. The Turners recorded their own tonight.<br />
<br />
I know. Get out your lighters, folks.<br />
<br />
Of note: Michael made a cameo appearance as the creepy person eating cereal, staring through the sliding glass door.<br />
<br />
Enjoy immensely.<br />
<br />
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-1562902865901179002013-01-25T09:59:00.001-08:002013-01-25T09:59:08.116-08:00Convos with Nina<br />
My convos with Nina this morning from Richland to Pasco:<br />
<br />
(note that her questions, I'm sure, stem from my love of Project Runway)<br />
Nina: were you a fashion model?<br />
Me: No<br />
Nina: were you a model?<br />
Me: No<br />
Nina: were you a designer?<br />
Me: No<br />
Nina: What WERE you, then, before a photographer?<br />
Me: a writer, I guess<br />
Nina: what's a writer? (me: eye roll because I'm appalled) And if you can write, why don't you know how to spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?<br />
<br />
2nd convo:<br />
<br />
Nina: All I've ever wanted is a little house of my own, with a little car. But I want the car to fly a bit, like a jet. And I want it to look like a Jeep.<br />
Me: Nice<br />
<br />
3rd convo:<br />
<br />
Nina: You know what I'm really good at? I can shoot a Bulban Arrow.<br />
Me: Do you mean a Bow and Arrow?<br />
Nina: Yeah, a Bulban Arrow. I want to go hunting with one. Or maybe you can buy me one for practice, and I need a dummy to shoot at, too.<br />
Me: (WTH?)<br />
<br />
4th convo:<br />
<br />
Nina: Will you not let me kiss boys until I'm 20?<br />
Me: Yeah, that sounds about right.<br />
Nina: I haven't decided where I'm going to get married.<br />
Me: You have plenty of time for that.<br />
Nina: And I don't know who I'm going to marry.<br />
Me: Again, plenty of time to find someone. Can we listen to music now?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nina, 5 going on 13</td></tr>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-15581754247023491512013-01-22T09:39:00.005-08:002013-01-22T09:39:57.067-08:00Queen Nina<span style="font-family: Georgia;">After I posted on Facebook about Nina telling Audrey she smelled like poop, our friend, Colleen, told her daughter, Julia, the story as an example of how words can hurt people's feelings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">After relaying the story, Julia said, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Oh yeah, I believe it. The last time she (Nina) was here with just Audrey to play, she threw a Chapstick at my head because I wouldn't call her the Queen. It really hurt."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sweet. Jesus. Nina...</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-38883889861325254462013-01-09T11:20:00.001-08:002013-01-09T11:20:14.633-08:00gyno humor. I dare you to read this.Ladies, only you can truly appreciate what I'm about to share. Laugh with me. Cry with me. Then remind yourself to say "No, thank you," when your gyno asks if a student can attend your show.<br />
<br />
<i>Disclaimer: may contain material that makes males squirm.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
There I was, at the gyno, butt-naked, save the paper open-faced "shirt" and 3x3ft piece of paper on my lap. It's one of the most vulnerable positions you can be in. Right?<br />
<br />
I take a lot of care in how I position myself in said papers, on said table/bed thing. Open-faced shirt is drawn closed, secured with my left hand. Paper square on lap is pulled around either side of me and then semi-secured with gentle tucking just under my buttocks. The tricky part is pulling that shitty paper towel thing juuuuust enough to hide your butt crack because your back is never to a wall, of course.<br />
<br />
Now that you get the setup, here's what happened...<br />
<br />
Doc enters, shakes my hand, and asks politely if I mind a student joining us. Doc points to a sign they have in the room about how his practice is assisting blah-blah school with education, etc. Always wanting to seem calm and cool, I say, "No, that's fine." I'm, of course, crossing my fingers and butt-crack for a female, but I should have known that that wouldn't be the case. Not for me. Ever.<br />
<br />
Doc says, "I'll bring him in." I reply, "Ok," with a smile and a line of sweat forming on my upper lip.<br />
<br />
<i>Please be old. Please be really, really unattractive. Please be so geeky that it's obvious you don't give a shit what my vajay-jay or face look like.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Again, not in the cards for me today.<br />
<br />
The KID was in his early 20s, blonde hair, hip glasses, and clearly uncomfortable to be meeting me, too. I wanted to high-five him, talk music or arts and get my paper-clad ass out of there. But, alas, I remained calm and cool.<br />
<br />
Now it gets awkward.<br />
<br />
Doc, "So, it says here you started your period today?"<br />
<br />
Me, "Yep." (mortified)<br />
<br />
Doc, "Well, we won't need to do a pap (I breathe a huge sigh of relief) We'll just do a pelvic exam."<br />
<br />
Eff. Me.<br />
<br />
So for the next 15 minutes of Q&A, I speak as fast and succinctly as I can. I just want to get the hell out of there. I can't even look at the kid standing 2 ft from me. And for those of you who know me well, it won't surprise you that I cracked a few witty jokes that my very professional doc did not find amusing, and since I wasn't looking at the kid, we just all fell into awkward silences. I need to wear a shirt that reads, "If you make me uncomfortable, I will be forced to crack jokes. It's what I do."<br />
<br />
Finally we get down to business and doc starts the breast exam. Female nurse now enters so the show is really beginning. I offer to pop popcorn and, again, there's silence. Dammit.<br />
<br />
Then doc moves down yonder, kid moves to join him. Awesome. I stare at the wall...anything...besides my audience. Doc says, "Now, this is what a normal cervix looks like." Uncomfortable Kid takes quick peek, says, "Ok," then (bless him) moves back to his position 2 ft from my head/bed.<br />
<br />
It's almost over.<br />
<br />
Doc does more (ahem) thorough pelvic exam, hits a sore spot that elicits a scream from me. He replies, "I don't think that's a cyst on your ovary, I suspect it's just stool in your colon."<br />
<br />
YAY. Now we talk about poop, too!<br />
<br />
<i>I'm going to faint. Please leave.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And, finally, I assure him I have no further questions and they leave the room. I still don't look at the kid. No. Way.<br />
<br />
I dress, exit quickly (but not before going the wrong direction, only to be led back in correct direction by nurse), and call Britt. "OMG...wanna hear about the most mortifying gyno experience ever?"<br />
<br />
Of course she did. And now you have, too. It's your lucky day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-83782757357191492512012-12-19T10:25:00.004-08:002012-12-19T10:25:52.385-08:00Goonies<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Audrey and I are watching Goonies, thanks to Michael. 15 min into it and she's had questions about penises, drugs, cop chases and whether or not she can use the word shit. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Very educational Thanksgiving break so far.</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-77384787176749881622012-12-19T10:25:00.000-08:002012-12-19T10:25:00.646-08:00four ladies bowling<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Bowling. Audrey fell, Nina nearly put a hole in the floor and i was a brainfart away from telling the guy next to me that his "balls have a wicked spin." I shouldn't be unsupervised.</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-65089295189290001072012-12-19T10:23:00.001-08:002012-12-19T10:23:41.331-08:00watching the fock at night<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Nina has a speaking part at her preschool holiday performance. Here's how she recites it (word-for-word):</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">(high-pitched voice) "They were in the same country shepherds biting in the field, watching their fock by night."</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-65785803948062997452012-12-19T10:21:00.002-08:002012-12-19T10:21:42.598-08:00Calgon, take Nina away<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Nina telling me why she wants to take a bath:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"First, I'm really sweaty. Second, I've had a long day. Last, I want some time alone."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">She's 5.</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-65295843153656368992012-09-25T21:25:00.000-07:002012-09-25T21:25:32.220-07:008th anniversary and we can't get it off<br />
<br />
<br />
Today is our 8th wedding anniversary. After having a great evening out, we put the kids to bed and high-tailed it to the bedroom. Get your mind out of the gutter. It's not like that.<br />
<br />
Well, not yet, anyway.<br />
<br />
Michael bought me a new dress; he couldn't wait for me to try it on. It's funny...he often buys me pieces of clothing and says, "I know it's a little outside your box, but just try it." Yet when I purchase something <i>I </i>think is outside my box and cute...and I've actually seen it on fashion blogs (I'm lying a little)...he's appalled and usually raises his eyebrows at me.<br />
<br />
Back to the dress. Bear with me while I describe it, because I'm sure I won't do it justice. It's quite cute, but yes, outside of my box. The top is grey (my fave!) with a ruffle detail down the front (good), then the bottom, which looks like a separate piece, but isn't, is a blue, grey, black and red wool plaid.<br />
<br />
As Michael anxiously awaits the fashion show, I examine the romper-for-a-30-something. No zipper on the back or side-- just lots of tiny buttons down the front of the "top." I undo the buttons and step into it. Michael has a bit of a view and sees that I'm instantly in a pickle. The thing is never going over my hips. He calls out, "It's a medium, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yes," I reply. "I just can't figure out how to get it on." I step out of it and throw it over my head. As I start to pull the skirt down, I realize my arms are completely stuck, straight up in the air. Now I look like E.T. Sexy for your anniversary night, right?<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
I'm starting to panic because it's actually really tight around my chest. Michael hops up and tries to help, but I get a fit of giggles...partially because I'm nervous that we have to cut it off, but I'm also feeling extremely vulnerable because my arms are stuck above my head and I'm certain that if he tickles me, I'll stop breathing. I can barely breath as it is.<br />
<br />
So as I "run" from him, saying over and over, "Don't tickle me, please. Don't tickle, don't tickle," he's trying to catch Wife E.T.<br />
<br />
He stands in front of me, pulls my arms down, which means I'm totally bent at the waist (his ploy to have me bow to him?) and he's pulling hard on the dress. Doesn't budge.<br />
<br />
Now I'm really laughing because I catch a glimpse of us in a mirror. Oh god. Really? It's only been eight years and we're already <i>here</i>? I'm in Hanes Her Way undies, trying on a dress that's obviously too small for me and now I'm STUCK in it.<br />
<br />
Finally, we get a shoulder out of it and I can breathe. I have red marks, though, to prove we struggled. When he frees me of the rest of it, he examines it because he's sure I've missed an obvious entry into it.<br />
<br />
Again, nope. So he admits it's a crazy-ass garment and he'll be returning it to tomorrow. Whew. Now we can start over and have a nice night.<br />
<br />
"Wait," I say. Just don't kiss my neck, I just put acne cream on it."<br />
<br />
And just like that, I kill the mood for the second time that evening. Ahhh...wedded bliss!<br />
<br />
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-69772354718027496902012-07-12T21:38:00.001-07:002012-07-12T21:40:32.011-07:00Our AudreyI thought I was peeing my pants all day. What? It happens when you're pregnant. I assure you it's totally normal. Or at least I thought it was.<br />
<br />
I was nearly 35 weeks pregnant with our first baby. After four hours of considering wearing a diaper to work, I called my doc and explained what was happening. They suggested I go to Labor & Delivery at the hospital. Oh. God. I hadn't even registered/toured at the hospital.<br />
<br />
Not wanting to panic anyone, I called Michael and told him what was going on. "Do you want me to meet you there?" he asked. I declined the offer, said I was sure it was routine, etc., and said I'd call him later. I left work without telling anyone anything; after all, it was lunch time and I was certain I'd be back at work.<br />
<br />
At Labor & Delivery, my doc had me undress, cough (guys out there - not exactly <i>your </i>kind of coughing exam)...and then announced that my water was leaking. "You're going to have a baby today," Dr. Rice said.<br />
<br />
Stunned and confused, I called Michael. "MT, we're gonna have a baby." He replied, "Um, yeah...I know that."<br />
<br />
"No, we're going to have a baby TODAY. My water is leaking, they can't send me home. Get down here," I said. Little did I know that we'd be waiting another 32 hours to meet Audrey.<br />
<br />
I won't give you all the gory details - it involves pain, blood and a placenta, but when she came out, I cried. I cried because I'd never felt so ready to love this baby girl, and then I sobbed because her head was REALLY POINTY. I patted it and asked Michael through tears, "This will go down, right?"<br />
<br />
It wouldn't be until I had our second baby, Nina, that I'd fully appreciate how tiny Audrey was when we took her home. She weighed 5 lbs., 2 oz. at birth and was only 4 lbs., 9 oz. when we left the hospital. She spent only one hour in the NICU as a preemie, and she and I spent the next several weeks trying to figure out this new thing neither of us was ready for: breastfeeding.<br />
<br />
But again, I'll spare you the deets.<br />
<br />
So today, July 13, Audrey Laine is now 7 years old. She's the same today as she was in my tummy--impatient. But she's also kind, loving, funny, sensitive, creative, and beautiful.<br />
<br />
In one word, we're <b>blessed</b>.<br />
<br />
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-51204867999740513062012-05-04T19:48:00.000-07:002012-05-04T19:48:38.559-07:00Lucky to have Louie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Nina, Louie and I drive down the street to pick up our neighbor/friend, Addi, for preschool. I jump out of the car, get Addi. Nina gets out, runs up with me. Go back to car, it's locked...and it's running. I'm panicked, running around it, blaming Nina for it, of course. Louie is in front seat, getting spun up because he seems me running around, then he ROLLS DOWN THE WINDOW! I unlock the car, then we're off. And now I know how the car got locked in the first place (thanks, Lou).</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">What a good boy!</span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-34079796010942338972012-04-08T07:59:00.001-07:002012-04-08T08:03:12.760-07:00The best Easter storyAt 6:30 today, Easter morning, Nina wakes me. She has that sad, semi-fake crying voice going on..."...the Easter Bunny didn't leave us <i>any</i> eggs. I looked all outside, in the trees...there's <i>nothing</i>. All I wanted was some eggs from the Easter Bunny and he forgot about us. Audrey will be <i>so</i> sad, too."<br />
<br />
I start to console, then bristle a bit, reminding her of the true meaning of Easter. She says sheepishly, "I haven't forgotten the meaning, ...I just wanted some easter eggs."<br />
<br />
Back up a day to an easter egg hunt at my mom's work. Nina RAN for a giant egg and a kid beat her to it. She gave up, sobbing, and didn't even try for more eggs, so she left empty-handed. Her own fault, for sure, but waking on Easter to find <i>no</i> eggs in her backyard was just insult-to-injury.<br />
<br />
"Nina," I said. "It would take the Easter Bunny <i>forever</i> to hide eggs in every kids' yard. He already brings you easter baskets!"<br />
<br />
She stomped away and I found her sulking on the couch. I ignored her. I was frustrated at her fit and also angry at myself. Here's why...<br />
<br />
I worked until midnight in my office, crawled into bed, forgetting to do my kids' easter baskets! Michael was fast asleep and I was exhausted. Audrey woke me at 4:00 in the morning, telling me she'd looked everywhere but the Easter Bunny hadn't visited yet. I told her to crawl in bed with Michael and I'd take her bed. And by take her bed, I mean I'd stay up reading for 15 minutes until she was asleep again, then assemble the baskets and pass out in her bed at 4:45 a.m.<br />
<br />
So, fast forward to Nina now crying about no eggs and I'm see-sawing from frustration to guilt.<br />
<br />
Then I open our front blinds.<br />
<br />
"Nina! Come look!"<br />
<br />
There, in our front yard, are dozens of colorful easter eggs and a big note in chalk that reads, "Happy Easter from the Easter Bunny." I almost cried.<br />
<br />
Just yesterday, I photographed a fabulous teen, Janae Calaway. She has a fabulous mom, Beverly. Janae and a group of friends have carried on her sister's tradition of "Egging" several houses on the eve of Easter. They told me stories yesterday about frolicking through yards in the middle of the night...Beverly driving the "getaway car," the girls praying there are no dogs loose at the houses they visit.<br />
<br />
I said jokingly, "Well, if you decide to egg <i>my</i> house, I love Twix, Snickers, and Kit Kats." We all laughed. Guess what was in all of the eggs in our front yard?<br />
<br />
As if all of this wasn't precious enough, the real topper came a bit later. Audrey had left an egg and a note for the Easter Bunny. It was on the front porch and I didn't even know where she'd put it. She picked it up and said, "Mom, it doesn't look like he opened the egg to read it." She'd left a cute note that said, "Plese open the ege Eastr Bunni." Inside, she'd left him another note.<br />
<br />
"I'm sure he read it," I said.<br />
<br />
When the girls ran out the front door to hunt the eggs, there was another note, written in chalk, on our driveway. "Thanks for the note!" Audrey. About. Died.<br />
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<br />
And, again, I almost cried.<br />
<br />
So, THANK YOU, our not-so-secret eggers...for saving my bacon, by bringing us eggs.<br />
<br />
Happy Easter!Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-61666204847468339392012-02-08T13:38:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:38:52.425-08:00Another fab dance by Nina<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyBwS7piTmU-FKvtGo3A9I1qMs4dYyKGP8h8JEj2-BxjSwLng9vMrog-3tD8kFS2WhXKOjfnfG8n0tXyxv6Bw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-66636934605031394672012-02-08T13:18:00.001-08:002012-02-08T13:18:45.171-08:00Crushing my ego...againAs I was blow-drying my hair one morning, Nina walks into the bathroom, wrinkles her nose and says, "Smells like...poop...and bum. I think it's you."Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-15885351002508192362012-02-08T13:17:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:17:27.097-08:00Nina's beach dayNina's preschool class was learning about all things beachy and aquatic. I missed the flashing neon sign about "dress up beach day," so a disappointed Nina entered the classroom in her usual school clothes.<br />
<br />
Not one to miss a dress-up occasion, she declared the following Monday another Beach Day. I explained that it actually <i>wasn't</i> beach day and she'd be the only one dressed up. "No," she said, "I need to wear a bathing suit."<br />
<br />
This was a day for me to choose my battles. It was 30 degrees -- maybe -- so I said she at least had to wear pants and a sweatshirt over the suit. She acquiesced and promptly put on flip flops and headed out the door. I packed some tennis shoes, socks, a heavy coat and gloves and we headed to school.<br />
<br />
I, of course, knew that it wasn't Beach Day, but it seemed to be news to Nina when she entered her classroom. She shyly walked back to me, head hanging low, and said, "No one else has a bathing suit on."<br />
<br />
"I know," I said. "I tried to tell you." She looked back in the classroom, then back at me and asked, "Can I take my pants off now?"<br />
<br />
Huh?<br />
<br />
Her moment of mortification had passed. She was ready to rock the bathing suit.<br />
<br />
So there's my Nina, marching into class wearing only a hot pink bikini, a sun hat, and flip flops. She sat next to a kid wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she didn't give a damn.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8QQhmg37PTsNtlk9E-of9dWAc7n5rLUEv_imh8fuKHE_NGpTyT3eErXsMcmcj6oWlvVPE3ggQu0usM4Y987tC0PCkMnP5dkNZs-2H-X2mjoHvry3Ma8V_v-nGN51N3LvNblMzEB_jnOq/s1600/Nina2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8QQhmg37PTsNtlk9E-of9dWAc7n5rLUEv_imh8fuKHE_NGpTyT3eErXsMcmcj6oWlvVPE3ggQu0usM4Y987tC0PCkMnP5dkNZs-2H-X2mjoHvry3Ma8V_v-nGN51N3LvNblMzEB_jnOq/s320/Nina2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-84412584410102509712012-02-08T13:06:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:06:42.088-08:00Well, that was awkwardAfter a quick trip to the DMV (no joke - half an hour!), I decided to drop in on a good friend. The receptionist greeted me and asked who I was there to see. The rest of the conversation just got downright awkward.<br />
<br />
Me: Mike Denslow.<br />
Receptionist (hereto after referred to as "R"): He's on the phone. Can I tell him who's here?<br />
Me: Oh, that's ok, I'll just contact him later.<br />
R: He should be just a minute. I'll email him. What's your name?<br />
Me: Tell him Dick Trickle is here.<br />
R: (confused face, fingers poised on keyboard) I'm sorry, who?<br />
Me: Dick Trickle (smiling)<br />
R: (still confused) How do you spell that?<br />
Me: (just realized someone was in waiting area and didn't want to sound inappropriate) Oh, just how it sounds. (wink)<br />
R: I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be difficult, I really don't know how to spell it.<br />
Me: (starting to sweat) It's fine. You can just tell him it's Andrea.<br />
R: I'm really not trying to be difficult.<br />
Me: No, no, totally fine. I don't want to repeat the name with (pointing discreetly over my shoulder) someone in the room. It was just a joke.<br />
R: Oh, an inside joke, huh?<br />
Me: Yeah...it's just a funny name of a racecar driver.<br />
R: (still missing point) Oh, I don't watch racecar driving.<br />
Me: Me neither. It was just a joke.<br />
<br />
And then I walk away and bury myself in my blackberry...dear. god. Last time I try that funny business.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-76818824536876978182012-02-01T18:18:00.000-08:002012-02-01T18:18:26.335-08:00Groundhog DayNina's learning about Groundhog Day. She comes home from school and says, "So, Mom, we're learning about Groundhog Day. You can learn more about it by going on-line to dot com. You can look up pictures and find out if he saw his shadow."Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-85384509761262838422012-01-12T09:01:00.000-08:002012-01-12T09:01:20.448-08:00Naked chipmunks & aliens, oh my!I love listening to backseat convos between my girls and their friends. Here's one from this morning:<br />
<br />
Friend: We looked all over our house for the naked chipmunk and we can't find it <i>anywhere</i>.<br />
Nina: Maybe aliens came down from outerspace and took it (dramatic look & pause here).<br />
Friend: We don't even know if aliens exist, Nina.<br />
Nina: They do. They have big heads and really, really big toes.<br />
Friend: Andrea, has Nina been to outerspace?<br />
Me: No, but she's from there.<br />
Friend: (jaw drop)<br />
Me: Just kidding.<br />
Audrey (piping in from 3rd row peanut gallery): But we all are from outerspace! God is in outerspace - in heaven. We all came from heaven. We were created from dirt and bones.<br />
Friend: It's called skeletons.<br />
Nina: Yeah, bones.<br />
<br />
And this is when I turned up the music...Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-73172559395225177962011-12-12T16:08:00.000-08:002011-12-12T16:08:47.911-08:00Keeping secrets that make you wanna pee your pantsA package was just delivered to our door. Audrey yelled, "Thank you!" to the driver, then turned to me and said, "You got clothes." She was guessing this based on the package. I replied, "Nope! It's one of your dad's Christmas gifts, but you can't tell him what it is."<br />
<br />
She starts doodling and says under her breath, "I could hardly keep his presents secret last year. I almost peed my pants not saying anything."Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-91675338374745357672011-12-08T12:53:00.000-08:002011-12-08T12:53:32.228-08:00R-E-S-P-E-C-TI was putting Nina to bed last night when she complained that her lips were chapped. "Go downstairs and ask Dad for some chapstick. Tell him I sent you."<br />
<br />
Her translation: "Dad, I respect you. Can I have some of your chapstick?"<br />
<br />
He and I didn't figure this out until <i>we</i> were going to bed and telling our day's funny story wrap-ups. I nearly choked on my toothbrush, I was giggling so hard.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-8297559219416684992011-12-05T20:50:00.003-08:002011-12-05T20:50:43.118-08:00What? Veggies can hang lights, tooAudrey told our friend, Michelle, "The vegetables are coming today to hang lights on our house."<br />
<br />
She meant "professionals."Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-71568386728846723522011-12-05T20:49:00.000-08:002011-12-05T20:49:49.825-08:00A vacation wrap-upI nearly forgot to post these...<br />
<br />
We finally took a family vaca this summer. Airplane and all. Neither Audrey or Nina remember previous flights due to their ages, so they were uber excited. Here are a few tidbits from the first leg of the flight...<br />
<br />
The flight attendant brings Nina her snack - those little graham-like crackers that are oval-shaped. Nina says loudly, "Scooby Snacks!"<br />
<br />
Then as the flight attendants go up and down the aisle, collecting garbage, Audrey says seriously, "Kinda looks like they're trick-or-treating."<br />
<br />
And last, but not least, during the first descent, Nina yells, "We're going down!"Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-21858835076834457622011-11-29T18:42:00.000-08:002011-11-29T18:42:14.962-08:00Audrey's church singing debutAudrey was thrilled to have a singing part in the Thanksgiving Mass at school. She sang a couple of lines with a boy, whom Audrey said, "Goofed off during rehearsals."<br />
<br />
This video is Audrey practicing at home. Note Nina's "I want attention, too" in the background. (This was the second take of Audrey singing because during the first one, Nina starting talking loudly - just to be heard.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwsY5lUylY-AsZn8HJOGJndcSqnUyTNd_iaT2t0OgKOIZK5e_lZC631jZYzyjWxwnhAkxpwtoFIC2_haiWQ6A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-27775650357552687312011-11-29T18:33:00.000-08:002011-11-29T18:33:01.036-08:00Have to document this dayAudrey and Nina are fighting over who gets to fold the laundry. When they finally agreed to work together, Audrey comes to me and whispers in my ear, "Um, do we have any soft music? We'd like to have it playing while we fold in there."<br />
<br />
Gawd.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7553491828075486486.post-18703230701956369052011-11-29T18:32:00.000-08:002011-11-29T18:32:00.472-08:00What's the password?Nina is definitely the alpha female in the household. And in Nina's mind, Audrey is at the bottom of the food chain.<br />
<br />
Last weekend, Nina locked Audrey out of a particular room. Here's how it went down:<br />
<br />
Audrey: Nina, please let me in.<br />
Nina: Say the password.<br />
Audrey: I don't know the password.<br />
Nina: Say "I love Nina."<br />
Audrey: (loudly) I love my Nina.<br />
Nina: I couldn't hear you.<br />
Audrey: (shouting) I love my Nina!<br />
Nina: Um, I still couldn't understand you.<br />
<br />
Me: NEE-NA! Let her in NOW.<br />
<br />
And Audrey was allowed through Nina's pearly gates.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16217764281613312348noreply@blogger.com0