Yes, Sophia rolled over today. I didn't actually witness the miraculous event because I was frantically emailing while she was happily trying to eat her activity spider that was dangling precariously above her on the baby gym. I heard some angry roars that I tried to ignore as I was pushing lots of 'send' buttons. When I got to her she had shifted about 180degrees and was on her tummy. Yowza!
Maybe that's why she's back on newborn hours at night. Last night she woke up every hour. I think partly she can't breathe because of a cold, but other than that, spoiled rotten is the diagnosis. We ignored a few of her pleas out of sheer exhaustion and the knowledge that she wouldn't start to death if she didn't eat something every hour.
Well, she's screaching once again. Gotta go. Maybe when she's five I can write more than a couple of paragraphs and maybe even proof read before I publish my posts.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Oh Rats!
Literally. Yes, now I can smartly add 'clean rat poop' to my list of chores. Since the kids lost their small furries before we went to Indonesia, we agreed we'd get new pets. We waited a respectable amount of time after the passing of Sandy the guinea pig. We looked at snakes, lizards and other rodents, finally deciding on....rats.
Yesterday we went to a local pet store and purchased three month old rat babies. "What are they for, snakes or lizards?" Tony thevstore owner asked.
"Err,...they ar efor pets." I confess.
"Oh, right!" He says. "They make great pets!" Tony thinks we are insane I'm sure.
By buying the cage set up, the rats are thrown in for free, what a bargain.
Rob refuses to ever let me go to a pet store unaccompanied again, as I've agreed to buy two girls and a boy and Tony says he'll take the babies (not for snakes or lizards, I'm sure,.. ) What better way to teach the boys about life? Anyway, we have Zach's boy Skittles FunDip, Kyle's girl Daisy and Jared's girl Peak. What fun.
Daisy and Skittles.
Proud rat owners.
Max wanting to taste a little rat.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Vacation or Bust
The nice thing about working overseas in 'tough' (read: non-American standard) places of the world means you are forced into vacations. Egypt we were paid to take a vacation somewhere in the world at the six month mark of each year. Our yearly anniversary meant the company shipped us back to our home country to decompress. This is to offset the stress of living in a foreign country and working six days a week. Now, if we had lived in Switzerland, I doubt we would have been shipped anywhere. I don't feel bad for my colleagues in Europe - most of the time, while I've made the one hour trek to Newport Beach for the day, they are 'sunning on the French Riviera.' I'm not complaining - while in Egypt we barely rested our heels as we embarked on journeys to Petra, Jordan, Israel, Malta, London, Italy and South Africa. Not to mention our extended weekend getaways all around Egypt to Alexandria, Sharm El Sheik and Luxur/Aswan. Simply amazing hubby constructed anything in the three and half years we were there.
The Philippines was a bit more stressful - we lived five hours out of Manila in the jungle. Which meant we lived on a camp. Although I deemed the camp 'Club San Roque' (the name of the city we were nearest) because we had a cafeteria (led by a German man and his Filipine cohort - interesting food I don't think you've seen even on Top Chef), a three hole golf course, swimming pool, gym and bar, it did start to get very Ground Hog Dayish (the movie with Bill Murray) ; same routine, same people all in an enclosed space. There we were kicked out every three months. We did high tail it to Australia, but then spent our other vacations at resorts spots in the Philippines - Cebu and Borakay - vacation spots all by themselves. We were only in the country for a year (we meaning me and the kids); and there wasn't much opportunity for a white girl and her babies to jaunt anywhere. Kidnappers and terrorists abound. We were escorted with an armed security guard on our weekly shopping trips to the closests city with any sort of shops and that was 40 miles away.
In Banda again we were allowed to leave every three months. While many of our more adventurous friends would spend their holidays camping around Vietnam, we just wanted hot running water and a bathtub. Our first journey led us back to Australia, then to Bali twice. Vacations get tougher the more kids you have.
Now that we are back stateside, there is no boss dictating us to 'take a holiday.' Americans are horrible about taking time off - I think we are up there in the country that works the most hours. Try getting anything done in the Wintertime with Europe - everyone I kow is skiing the Alps drinking shnapps. Maybe it's the company I keep,...
Anyway, I have decided it is up to me to continue to give hubby a break and make life fun. So what if I have 15 more boxes to unpack and we don't have window coverings on the second floor? We are escapting to Las Vegas to see one of Rob's brothers and his wife this coming month and then the kids and I are going to land on Grandma in Washington for a few weeks this summer. We are trying to figure out a fun way to drive back down to California with hubby for about two weeks, then the rigamorol of school and sports starts again.
I had fantasies of going on a nice holiday and looked up the resort Beaches, an all inclusive resort located in Jamaica - they have kid's club for infants and Elmo will have breakfast with your toddler - after inputting all of my information, the vacation modeler spit out my perfect holiday - to the tune of $19,000. For a week. Without airfare.
I have since realized that I have reproduced myself not only out of fancy sports cars, but relaxing pampering holidays as well.
As I told Grandma on the phone, the only inclusive holiday we will have is whatever is included in the cooler we lug to the woods and can be cooked on a stick over a fire pit.
Then one of my bosses at work told me about her fantastic holiday cruisin' the Pacific down to Mexico and back. That sounds more reasonable; you pack and shlep once and hang out. The boat has waterslides and movies for kids. You may not actually see your children for the entire time, but they can't escape since they are on a boat. With high railings, she was sure to point out to me.
But all I can think about are the news stories of cruiseships full of people who fell ill because of the tainted water supply, or people who mysteriously 'vanished at sea' never to be seen again.
Oh well. For the next couple of months, all I have to do is pack the diaper bag and wander down to the local baseball fields for my mini vacations of all day Saturdays basking in the sun getting a racoon tan on my face and eating gobbstoppers while the boys play baseball. Anything that takes me away from mopping the floor is a holiday to me.
The Philippines was a bit more stressful - we lived five hours out of Manila in the jungle. Which meant we lived on a camp. Although I deemed the camp 'Club San Roque' (the name of the city we were nearest) because we had a cafeteria (led by a German man and his Filipine cohort - interesting food I don't think you've seen even on Top Chef), a three hole golf course, swimming pool, gym and bar, it did start to get very Ground Hog Dayish (the movie with Bill Murray) ; same routine, same people all in an enclosed space. There we were kicked out every three months. We did high tail it to Australia, but then spent our other vacations at resorts spots in the Philippines - Cebu and Borakay - vacation spots all by themselves. We were only in the country for a year (we meaning me and the kids); and there wasn't much opportunity for a white girl and her babies to jaunt anywhere. Kidnappers and terrorists abound. We were escorted with an armed security guard on our weekly shopping trips to the closests city with any sort of shops and that was 40 miles away.
In Banda again we were allowed to leave every three months. While many of our more adventurous friends would spend their holidays camping around Vietnam, we just wanted hot running water and a bathtub. Our first journey led us back to Australia, then to Bali twice. Vacations get tougher the more kids you have.
Now that we are back stateside, there is no boss dictating us to 'take a holiday.' Americans are horrible about taking time off - I think we are up there in the country that works the most hours. Try getting anything done in the Wintertime with Europe - everyone I kow is skiing the Alps drinking shnapps. Maybe it's the company I keep,...
Anyway, I have decided it is up to me to continue to give hubby a break and make life fun. So what if I have 15 more boxes to unpack and we don't have window coverings on the second floor? We are escapting to Las Vegas to see one of Rob's brothers and his wife this coming month and then the kids and I are going to land on Grandma in Washington for a few weeks this summer. We are trying to figure out a fun way to drive back down to California with hubby for about two weeks, then the rigamorol of school and sports starts again.
I had fantasies of going on a nice holiday and looked up the resort Beaches, an all inclusive resort located in Jamaica - they have kid's club for infants and Elmo will have breakfast with your toddler - after inputting all of my information, the vacation modeler spit out my perfect holiday - to the tune of $19,000. For a week. Without airfare.
I have since realized that I have reproduced myself not only out of fancy sports cars, but relaxing pampering holidays as well.
As I told Grandma on the phone, the only inclusive holiday we will have is whatever is included in the cooler we lug to the woods and can be cooked on a stick over a fire pit.
Then one of my bosses at work told me about her fantastic holiday cruisin' the Pacific down to Mexico and back. That sounds more reasonable; you pack and shlep once and hang out. The boat has waterslides and movies for kids. You may not actually see your children for the entire time, but they can't escape since they are on a boat. With high railings, she was sure to point out to me.
But all I can think about are the news stories of cruiseships full of people who fell ill because of the tainted water supply, or people who mysteriously 'vanished at sea' never to be seen again.
Oh well. For the next couple of months, all I have to do is pack the diaper bag and wander down to the local baseball fields for my mini vacations of all day Saturdays basking in the sun getting a racoon tan on my face and eating gobbstoppers while the boys play baseball. Anything that takes me away from mopping the floor is a holiday to me.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Life
When you were a kid, didn't you think being an adult would kind of be like this; you know, the world is your oyster? Or in this case, your 'beers-of-the-world refrigerator?
Only to grow up and realize that adult life is more like this?
Not that I'm complaining. Really.
Only to grow up and realize that adult life is more like this?
Not that I'm complaining. Really.
10 hours and counting,..
That's how long Sophie has been sleeping. I know, I can't believe it either. This is the second time she's slept through the night. And yes, alter ego who is completely neurotic, she is still breathing. 
Our little insomniac,..
Yummy, B feeding her baby,...
Evidence that I can be a fun mommy - strawberry shortcake for breakfast,...
Tonight is Zach's game. So this is what we'll be doing,...
Monday, April 21, 2008
I Like Kyle Because,..
My little kindergartner was star student last week,.. yes, of course everyone was star student, but you can't forget the power of being line leader and office messenger and all that,.. what an exciting five days.
The most fun is seeing how excited he is to read the notes his classmates give him. He came home with a little book entitled 'I Like Kyle Because,..'
I had my favorites,.. there was I like Kyle because 'He plas with me. me;' the 'I LIKE KYLE' (like there needs to be an explanation when you are five,.. come on adults. Clue in, duh,..) and his prowess on the monkey bars was written about quite a few times, as well as the fact that he plays 'sokr' and then there was 'I like Kyle od yalp yoh my at because he comes wr we houm mr wes'. ... and also 'I like Kyle because he like goon the monky or su.' and the one I like the best,.. 'I like Kyle because hes my faveret guy.'
I couldn't have said it better myself. : )
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Do Tarsier's Like Rice Cereal?
Because our little one doesn't. Tarsiers, for those of you who are not second graders who have just completed a report on rain forest creatures, are tiny little things with huge eyeballs, much like our little Sophie.
Our little rainforest creature.
Much like a typical wild Tarsier, our Sophie dwells in the upper canopy, not going to the forest floor unless really, really necessary.
Dr. Doolittle and his diarama
Sophie in the canopy. Doesn't really matter what the name of the 'tree' she is in, as long as it is a living, breathing, moving thing.
We are trying to domesticate our little tropical woodland creature, but so far she has the reigns to this pony and isn't letting go soon.
Not only does she not think eating is to-die-for yet, she has decided she doesn't like her bottles either. Friday when I went to work, she drank a whole three ounces of bottle. For those of you without young uns to feed, that isn't a whole heck of a lot. We're still working on the rice cereal, but we're doing it hap hazardly, whenever I can remember and it's convenient. Gotta like that in a baby. Which isn't a problem because the expression on her face looks like I've just given her a big ol' spoonful of hot tar.
Rice-cereal-a-palooza
Hmm,.. what else,..
Have you noticed the grocery bills inching up there? I don't think it's becuase I've got seven mouths to feed here, I think it's an effect of the gas prices. We went to Coldstone for a treat - it was 'glutton Saturday' you see. We had a pizza party at the local pizza parlor for kindergartner's t-ball team and decided that wasn't enough saturated fats, so we had ice cream too. The 'Like It' size was $5, I kid you not! I don't think it was that much a couple months ago, was it???? Yikes. So, today we've broken out our ice cream maker and tried our hand at chocolate. I can make six quarts of ice cream for a fraction of what our bill was last night at Coldstone. Egads. Although I have to admit, I won't put gummy worms in any of my creations, so maybe it isn't the deal I think it is. Or the boys don't anyway.
And I thought I'd break out of my chicken rut and make salmon for dinner. When I unveiled it at the table I was greeted with TWO boys who said they didn't like salmon anymore. WHAT? How can you be my kid and not like salmon? Hush,.. don't tell any of the Western Washington relatives because that is SINFUL. Western Washingtonians know their salmon like uhm,.. Western Washingtonians know their beer and their fancy coffee.
There is no such thing as 'salmon.' and if you go to a restaurant that tries to sell just salmon to a WWer, well, be prepared to answer a slew of questions. What kind? Farm or wild? Fresh or frozen?
WWer's even know all sorts of salmon and will only eat the upper echelon of salmondom. King? Absolutely. Sockeye? Okay, if there isn't any King. Coho? Yes, fine. The kobe beef of the salmon world is Copper River Salmon, something I don't think anyone is allowed to eat unless they are in Washington state, or show their valid Wa. state driver's license. It only runs a few weeks out of the whole year, so it is coveted, and if you are a true salmon lover, you will stock up on it and eat it like you do strawberries or cherries when they are in season - until you swear you will never eat another one again because you are so SICK of it.
Pink salmon? Never. Not even fit for the cat. Atlantic? Get serious. Farmed salmon? Doesn't that stuff kill you?
And canned? If you thought it was gross before, just have a pleasant conversation with someone who drove a forklift in an Alaskan salmon cannery two summers in a row, like Hubby, and you too will never buy that again.
We even have the high falootin' cedar board to cook our salmon on. We used to go to Home Depot and buy a big ol' fence plank and sand that puppy down, but I bought a food grade one, which means someone in some third world country sanded it down for you.
When we first moved to So. Cal. about 12 years ago we went to a highly respected restaurant in Huntington Beach. Hubby ordered the salmon which came with,.. tartar sauce. The horror.
Well, I can't believe the last time I blogged was Tuesday. But at least my house is clean and I've caught up on the laundry!!!
Our little rainforest creature.
Much like a typical wild Tarsier, our Sophie dwells in the upper canopy, not going to the forest floor unless really, really necessary.
Dr. Doolittle and his diarama
Sophie in the canopy. Doesn't really matter what the name of the 'tree' she is in, as long as it is a living, breathing, moving thing.
We are trying to domesticate our little tropical woodland creature, but so far she has the reigns to this pony and isn't letting go soon.
Not only does she not think eating is to-die-for yet, she has decided she doesn't like her bottles either. Friday when I went to work, she drank a whole three ounces of bottle. For those of you without young uns to feed, that isn't a whole heck of a lot. We're still working on the rice cereal, but we're doing it hap hazardly, whenever I can remember and it's convenient. Gotta like that in a baby. Which isn't a problem because the expression on her face looks like I've just given her a big ol' spoonful of hot tar.
Rice-cereal-a-palooza
Hmm,.. what else,..
Have you noticed the grocery bills inching up there? I don't think it's becuase I've got seven mouths to feed here, I think it's an effect of the gas prices. We went to Coldstone for a treat - it was 'glutton Saturday' you see. We had a pizza party at the local pizza parlor for kindergartner's t-ball team and decided that wasn't enough saturated fats, so we had ice cream too. The 'Like It' size was $5, I kid you not! I don't think it was that much a couple months ago, was it???? Yikes. So, today we've broken out our ice cream maker and tried our hand at chocolate. I can make six quarts of ice cream for a fraction of what our bill was last night at Coldstone. Egads. Although I have to admit, I won't put gummy worms in any of my creations, so maybe it isn't the deal I think it is. Or the boys don't anyway.
And I thought I'd break out of my chicken rut and make salmon for dinner. When I unveiled it at the table I was greeted with TWO boys who said they didn't like salmon anymore. WHAT? How can you be my kid and not like salmon? Hush,.. don't tell any of the Western Washington relatives because that is SINFUL. Western Washingtonians know their salmon like uhm,.. Western Washingtonians know their beer and their fancy coffee.
There is no such thing as 'salmon.' and if you go to a restaurant that tries to sell just salmon to a WWer, well, be prepared to answer a slew of questions. What kind? Farm or wild? Fresh or frozen?
WWer's even know all sorts of salmon and will only eat the upper echelon of salmondom. King? Absolutely. Sockeye? Okay, if there isn't any King. Coho? Yes, fine. The kobe beef of the salmon world is Copper River Salmon, something I don't think anyone is allowed to eat unless they are in Washington state, or show their valid Wa. state driver's license. It only runs a few weeks out of the whole year, so it is coveted, and if you are a true salmon lover, you will stock up on it and eat it like you do strawberries or cherries when they are in season - until you swear you will never eat another one again because you are so SICK of it.
Pink salmon? Never. Not even fit for the cat. Atlantic? Get serious. Farmed salmon? Doesn't that stuff kill you?
And canned? If you thought it was gross before, just have a pleasant conversation with someone who drove a forklift in an Alaskan salmon cannery two summers in a row, like Hubby, and you too will never buy that again.
We even have the high falootin' cedar board to cook our salmon on. We used to go to Home Depot and buy a big ol' fence plank and sand that puppy down, but I bought a food grade one, which means someone in some third world country sanded it down for you.
When we first moved to So. Cal. about 12 years ago we went to a highly respected restaurant in Huntington Beach. Hubby ordered the salmon which came with,.. tartar sauce. The horror.
Well, I can't believe the last time I blogged was Tuesday. But at least my house is clean and I've caught up on the laundry!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)