TGIS

After uploading some photos on FB today I realized that today was 1) one of those perfect Sundays and 2) my husband is really my best friend.  You can't plan perfect days.  You can hope your one day off is relaxing and try and make it that way, but truly awesome days just come together somehow. I slept in this morning even though Wayne had to go to work super early, but at around 9am he came back from work with a triumphant , "it was canceled!" Yippee, we slept in later :)   At noon, we got the kids in the car and took a road trip to find some of Saipan's more popular landmarks.  The girls got to see some places they'd never been to before and I realized that there may not be much to do on Saipan, but that's proportionately dependent on what what you value to be worthwhile. Sometimes you just have to get out and find your bliss.  We make it a point to do things that the kids can get actively involved in, but our usual beach Sunday turned out even better on the road. 

One thing I love about my husband is the fact that we have fun doing even the most mundane of things. Maybe fun is not the word.  We enjoy each others' company no matter what it is we are doing.  That's both new and amazing to me.  As we prepared dinner, I caught myself thinking how great it was to share a task with someone who loves being with me.  We laughed and joked, chopped and mixed and by the time we were done we had a great meal prepared in the time it took the kids to finish their dvd.  After dinner, the kids took over the cleaning and we sat outside in the cool Papago air together.  I love that we laugh.  I don't remember ever being like this and I'm grateful for my best friend.  A lot of times we can't wait for Fridays and we spend our whole week counting down the days, but if every Sunday were like this, Fridays would definitely get bumped off my TGI list.

EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT DISCIPLINE (and life) I LEARNED IN A ROSS DRESSING ROOM

The warnings are everywhere so why don't people ever heed them? Every time I walk into a Ross Dress for Less I am painfully aware of the reality that "young children should never be left unattended". This message is repeated over the intercom every few minutes for a reason folks. Sometimes I get it confused with the airport warning and wonder if I leave my child unattended will Ross security confiscate and destroy her? For this reason, I never bring my children shopping with me unless it is for something I can't avoid and then I begin my spiritual cleansing days in advance by praying the rosary nightly, imploring the divine mercies of Our Lady of What The Hell Were You Thinking Bringing Your Kid To a Crowded Department Store?

Still, other women are not so smart and they pack their little babies in shopping carts intended only for that really awesome $7.95 BCBG shirt that looked fantastic from every angle of the horrid three way mirror. Why would you ever violate that holy space with a squiggly 4 year old? Children have no place mixed up with fashion clothing on sale. Ugh, these women are either ignorant to these truths or they have banded together in an effort to collectively sabotage the shopping experiences of those of us who value tranquility.

There they were, tastefully dressed women with perfect hair, maneuvering their carts through crowded aisles of textile treasures. And, there they were, their innocent, lovable children, before the dressing room transformations. I meander through the same aisles and finally, to the women's fitting area. The nice lady gives me the 6 garment tag and I bravely make my way into the corridor. "So far, so good" I think while I slip my blue Roxy blouse over my head. Then the chorus begins...

"Carter. Carter? Carter, where are you? Where's my baby Carter? Oh, there you are Carter. No Carter, no. No, no, no. Sit down neni. Sit down Carter please. Carter, mommy wants you to sit down, neni. Carter...CARTER!"

(Lesson #1: Sometimes less is more. No, for real.)

"Move, move, move. OMG, what's wrong with you? Look, you fell down cause you can't keep still. Gee-suss"

(Lesson #2: Messages, unlike vegetables, should not be mixed up)

"Pulan! Get out of there, Pulan! Just wait! I'm gonna tell daddy you don't wanna keep still. Do you want me to tell daddy? Daddy's gonna spank you. Do you wanna get spanking? That's it! Look daddy...oh, there's daddy!! DADDY! "

(Lesson #3: Sticks and stones can break their bones, but daddy rarely scares them. Plus, he's probably sitting on the bench hiding too )

"Stop crying, I already told you that if you didn't keep still I'm taking your PSP. So, why you crying now, you wern crying when you were jumping around like a monkey. I don't care. No. No more PSP. THEN KEEEEP STILL THEN DAMMET!!"

(Lesson #4: Mean what you say and say it without being so dang mean)

"Ok, let mama try this on then I buy you ice cream. Good girl. Mommy loves you"

(Lesson #5: If you bribe 'em now, you'll end up paying later)

Ten minutes in a cramped stall is all I can take. I want to choke Carter and Carter's pretty mommy and I want Pulan's daddy to come quickly so he can make his mama stop it too. STOP IT RIGHT NOW!

My How They've Grown

It was almost four years ago Peyton gave up her binky. We had a Bye-bye Binky Party and retired her precious "binchy-ko" in a fitting tribute complete with song and a feast. Tony Jr. had his thumb. Hope, well Hope never had attachment issues as a child. It's a different story now that she's 11. With the advent of text messaging, we'll have to surgically remove her cell phone from her right palm. But, that's another story. Last night, we had a Bye-bye Baba party for Sommer, who is now 2 1/2 and a very big girl. It is probably my fault that she's had her bottle for so long. She is our last baby and somehow that gives me the mommy given right to keep her in diapers and prolong her baba attachment. Okay, so you're not buying it either. I surrender.

So, last night, we gathered at the dinner table, sang a "Happy No Baba" song, clapped to celebrate Sommy being a big girl now and ate ice cream. Get it? Sommy is a big girl now. Ice cream is not baba, but it is still dairy. Okay, only I get it. I made a speech about how Sommer didn't need her baba and Sommer clapped after every testament of her maturity. It was great.