The time of your life..

When the kids were little, I felt like I never got a moment of peace. I was nursing, cleaning, doing laundry, making food, entertaining them, reading books. It was non. stop.

But now I’m looking back at photos and I see that my house was on point! I was letting my creative juices flow and in between the cleaning and the breastfeeding and it gave me life!  I was painting my walls, refinishing furniture, or planting in my beautiful garden. I busted out the power sander and made that Venetian Plaster I applied in the dining room shine like a mirror. Painted the kids room with a fairytale castle, forest and clouds covered the walls.  I even covered the guest room/office completely in harlequin diamonds!  I painted with a baby strapped to my chest in an Ergo, gardened while the twins rolled around on a blanket on the grass, and I knew all about annuals and perennials.  I was always covered in paint, and looking back in pics and videos I can see that my house was pretty damn organized, and my garden was completely fabulous.

I even mowed my own damn lawn, m'kay, people?

Soo.. what the hell happened?? Why is it now that my kids are finally all in school 9-3 do I feel like I have no time for ANYTHING anymore?? I can't seem to complete a single task, and I have unfinished projects left and right.

Is it possible that ADD can get worse with age?  

I feel like all I do once they’re dropped off is put on my workout clothes (in case I get the urge to exercise (highly unlikely)), clean the house, do laundry, maybe edit some pics, run to the grocery store, and then suddenly it’s time to pick up the kids (from two different schools, mind you).  I race the clock from one pick-up to the next and then after school activities, homework, dinner, bath time and then it's time to collapse into bed and catch up on mindless TV.

This blog has not been updated in almost 4 years because I’ve been so busy. The irony of being too busy to write about my busy life does not escape me.

I will say that I personally seem to be a bit more pulled together than I was back then.  I get a shower every day, so that's a big step up... so there's that. 

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da!

At this point in my life, 4 kids, 8 years in, I'm no stranger to gross. There's a stomach bug making it's way through the girls' school right now, and Aurora had it a few days ago, it only lasted 24 hours, no big deal.  She woke up in the morning and said her tummy hurt, then she barfed all over her bed (okay, that was kind of a big, gross deal).  Awesome!  So, we obviously kept her home from school and (after changing her sheets) she laid in bed all day, watching cartoons.  I expected this to make it's way through the rest of the kids at some point, but I was hoping it would be with the ease of Aurora's case.  Barf a few times in the morning after we're all already awake, then spend the day cuddled up with stuffed animals in bed while watching Dog With A Blog.

So, as my nights often go, we start out with no kids in our bed, and at some point in the night, the twins always make their way into our room, either to pee in our bed, or as in last night's case, to barf all over our bed.  Oh, yes, this is the life!  Last night, it started with Atticus.  He went from deep, peaceful sleep to a suddenly gagging barf-sprinkler.  I rushed him to the bathroom to hold his head over the toilet when I noticed a horrible, foul, FOUL smell- cat shit!  So there I am, helping Atticus balance his head over the toilet without falling completely in and I notice a pile of steaming fresh cat shit sitting on the bathroom rug.  Then it dawns on me!  I had scraped out and hosed out the cats' litter box earlier, then left it outside to dry in the sun and I had forgotten to bring it back into the house.  AWESOME!  So here I was at 1am; sick toddler, cat shit, trail-o-barf through the hall... where to start?

I get Atticus back into bed, then Bea starts saying that she needs to throw up.  Bea is really dramatic.  REALLY dramatic, and often pretends to be hurt or sick so she gets attention. If somebody hits their head, suddenly she "hit" her head.  If somebody's toe hurts, suddenly her toe "hurts".  If I call her bluff, she can even shed convincing tears and cry "but, I looove yooou!" and make me feel extreme guilt.  I didn't know if she was lying last night, but I took her word for it (because who wants to take a chance with that??) and pulled her into the cat-shit bathroom, I then watched as she lightly coughed over the toilet and said "all done" then bounced back to the bed.  I took a minute to pick up the bathroom rug and toss it out the back door into the rain (I get to deal with that today) then I wiped up the trail-o-barf, and got back into bed right when Atticus was ready to say hello to the toilet again.  So, back we went. Then (surprise!) Bea joined us again with her little princess cough, and the three of us shuffled back into bed.  Then, believe it or not, Bea said she had to throw up, and I reluctantly brought her back into the bathroom because, like I said, who wants to chance that??  And whadaya know?  She barfed!  So we spent the rest of the night and into the morning doing this dance. We've only got one kid left for it to hit, so I'm hoping the worst of it is in the day because I don't know if I can handle another sleepless night-  It felt like I was revisiting the newborn days- SUPER FUN!  Not.

Now, off to hose cat shit off a rug!

SaveSave

I Should Have Known Better, With A Girl Like You...

A few weeks ago at about 8pm, Beatrix suddenly got hit with a high fever.  I'm not sure how high it was actually because our thermometers are always missing or broken, thanks to the twins' charming ability to hide/lose/destroy any and all useful objects in the home, but she was very hot.  Not long after the fever began, she started breathing rapidly, got lethargic, shakey, vomited, and complained of a headache.  That's what got me; when she started saying "Mommy, my head hurts" over and over, I knew I couldn't brush that off.  So... at about midnight on a Sunday, I took her to the ER.  We got in right away, and while we were checking in with the nurse, I realized her fever was totally gone, and I started wondering if she maybe wasn't as sick as she'd seemed an hour earlier.  I was happy, of course, that she seemed better, but there was a small part of me that wanted her to show some symptoms, damn it!  Not in a Munchausen sort of way, but I knew that she had been sick an hour earlier, and that she would probably be sick again an hour after we got home- so, show the Dr.'s while we're here so they can do their job, kid!

The nurse took her temperature and it was a very normal 98.7.  REALLY??  I started to get mad at myself.  Did I over react?  After all, this has happened before with her older siblings when they were babies, and I told myself back then that I wouldn't jump to conclusions with another sick kid again.  I had taken Aurora to the ER as a baby when she seemed to be having trouble breathing during a bad cold, and when we got to the hospital, she too, was "FINE".  Alert and smiley, only a slight fever, and clear lungs.  I know it's better to be safe than sorry, but frankly, I feel bad for wasting the Dr.'s and nurses time, for looking like a loon, AND for costing us over $800 for a dose of tylenol and a nebulizer treatment.  So, when Bea threw up some neon green bile in front of the nurse, I couldn't help but be excited!  See?  She's really sick!  Then, yes, I realized how insane that was, and continued on with being the awesome mom who wants her kid to be healthy.  Which I do, but, like I said; a little green bile barfing doesn't hurt when I don't want the Dr's to think I'm a nutty, overreacting mom.  They gave her a popsicle and she was suddenly, totally fine- and even insisted on walking down the hall herself to get her X-rays, all the while clutching said popsicle.  Her lungs were mostly clear, and before long, we were sent on our way.  Bea with a big, blue popsicle smile on her face.  Well played, Bea, well played.  I hope you enjoyed your $800 popsicle.

It's been a long time...

I just realized that it's been almost a year since I wrote my last blog entry.  A lot has happened since then, and I often thought "Hmm... I should blog about this!", but life has a way of keeping you so busy with life, that you can't find the time to do the little things.  Since my last entry, I've lived in New York for 2 months- while Monte was there rehearsing for the Madonna tour- with the 4 rambunctious kids where there were plenty of adventures to be had...  that would have been a great time to blog, eh?  But, no.  No, I did not blog in NYC about my daily adventures into the big city with 4 kids.  Trying to squeeze 6 people into a cab, carrying a stroller up and down subway steps, our visit to the Statue of Liberty or Ground Zero, the incredible amount of walking we did because most cabs would avoid us like the plague.

I weaned the twins from breastfeeding in June, they were 25 months old.  It was bittersweet because I know they are our last kids (um... ya think?), and as much as I was completely over nursing (I had officially been nursing for SEVEN years straight), it's also such a sweet, loving bond, and I know I'll never have that experience again *sniff sniff*.  Oh, who am I kidding??  I am going to throw a party every year to celebrate the fact that I am DONE breastfeeding!

Then, this summer, we went to Yosemite and of course Monte was on tour all year, so I took the kids and went with my family without him.  My parents and my sister, her husband and their 4 kids were there, so there were plenty of people to help and entertain.  We're trying to make it a tradition every year, so this year we've already got our reservations.  Looking forward to the trip, the kids love it there, and so do Monte and I!

Monte was gone from January to December (with a handful of 2-3 day visits in between).  I visited him in Nice, France for a week when they were there in September, and that was a really nice getaway for us together.  He then came to play the Los angeles shows in October, and we had a weekend away together in Vegas right after that.  I moved us in November to a house closer to my parents because I couldn't stand being so far away from all that family help (20-30 min), so I hired some movers and away we went.  Now we live on the same street as my parents, it's awesome!  I'm not sure my mom thinks it's as awesome as I do, but tough cookies, grandma!  I've got ya now!  Muahahahaha!

Monte got off tour December 23rd, and we decided to get the kids a puppy for Christmas because we lost our precious Duke in October, they were heartbroken, and we were ready for a new doggie.  It was awesome to watch them open the box on Christmas morning and there was an adorable puppy inside!  She's been a good dog so far, and is as cute as a button.  Since then, Monte has only left to record his new album in Denmark for 2 weeks, and somehow I survived with the kids.  It's amazing how much harder it is to have him leave after he'd been home for a stint.  I get so used to having him home!

I'm going to try to get better about blogging again.  Wish me luck!  ;)

Flying The Friendly Skies!

Traveling with 4 kids is no easy feat. We checked in fine, and it was nice to unload the giant bags, and only have our 4 rolling carry-on bags, backpacks, stroller, car seat, and children to deal with. My biggest fears were security, and boarding. Well, also the actual flight and getting everybody off the plane and to the car. Going through security, at one point, Tiffany was showing her ID behind me, and a TSA agent asked me with great concern if I was alone with the kids because that's what it looked like at the moment. She was very relieved for me when I told her that I did indeed had help. The kids were not required to take off their shoes through security-SCORE! I was able to quickly collapse the stroller and place it on the belt, the girls were very good listeners and they put their own bags on the belt, then held the babies hands for us on the side while we finished loading the belt with bags, car seat, shoes, etc. Nobody wanted to line up behind us, of course, but I must say, we were very efficient! We got through as quickly as possible, with no hang ups, and the security personnel were extremely cheerful and helpful, and the other passengers were very kind and friendly. Once we were through, we even got a big round of applause! It was awesome.

Once we got settled at the gate, I took the girls, and Atticus, with me to get some Starbucks. The line was a good 20 minutes long, but we made it through with coffee for me, and juice, yogurt, donuts, and muffins, as requested by the girls... so I thought. Apparently, Aurora wanted a chocolate muffin, but i got her a banana nut muffin, and I couldn't hear her because it was so loud, but she didn't make it really known until we were done with our transaction and walking out of Starbucks. Aurora is our middle child, and while she is a bright, wonderful, sweet, loving, happy child most of the time, she has a dark side that reared its ugly head once the twins were born and she had to compete for the attention that she once had in abundance... for which i have a lot of guilt mixed with frustration. So, sometimes, when she doesn't get her way, she has a complete "possessed-by-Satan" meltdown that nothing can stop once it's started. Nothing. So, there I was, halfway out of Starbucks, baby strapped to me, Ariel by my side, hands full of coffee and baked goods, and Aurora begins to scream "I HATE BANANA MUFFINS!!! I WANT A CHOCOLATE MUFFIN!!!!!" Shit. I was essentially trapped because my hands were full, Tiffany was at our seats in the terminal with Bea and couldn't hear us, everybody's staring at the lady with all the kids and Starbucks coffee and bags, Aurora is crying, and screaming "NO! I WANT A CHOCOLATE MUFFIN NOW!!" across the terminal. I asked Ariel to hold the bags of food while I tried grabbing Aurora's arm and coaxing her out of Starbucks but she wasn't having it, it looked really bad, I could feel everybody's eyes burning into me. I finally had no choice but to leave Aurora, run over to our seats and toss all the crap down next to Tiffany, leave Ariel with her with no time to remove Atticus from the Ergo because Aurora was now alone, screaming her tushie off in front of Starbucks, and I'm sure people were concerned and security wasn't far from intervening. All I could think about was the family who was kicked off of a Jet Blue flight just the week before because their 2 year old was having a tantrum. I had been mostly worried about the twins, but they were being perfect, even Atticus, as I raced across the terminal, he happily bounced along with me, a little confused, but just enjoying the ride. I finally got back to Aurora and picked her screaming little body up, and carried her into a bathroom stall. She was still screaming about the chocolate muffin, and at this point, I definitely couldn't give in because I would be rewarding her naughty behavior. So... I lied and told her that She could no longer go to New York, and that I was calling grandma to come pick her up. I felt kind of bad about it even as I was saying it, but I was desperate... and at first it didn't even work, and then I got worried because I really believe in following through with threats so they know I mean business, but then again, it never even really works with Aurora, no matter how good my track record is with following through. It took about 10 minutes of fake calls to grandma to get her to stop crying, and once she was calmed down, we entered the terminal, and joined the rest of our group.

Once it was time to board, we were of course struggling to carry all of our bags, babies, and car seat onto the plane, so some flight attendants and a passenger were nice enough to help us out. A nice passenger carried my rolling carry-on bag for us, a flight attendant carried Beatrix to our seat because I was holding both the twins, plus a car seat and a backpack, and another flight attendant offered to take the car seat from me, and she kindly carried it to our seats, and the passenger lifted my bag into the overhead compartment and everything. How unexpected and wonderful that was! Once at our seats, the babies were in need of their naps, although, Atticus was enjoying the view out the window, so I nursed Bea to sleep before takeoff, and she quietly slumbered in my lap. Atticus, strapped into his car seat, was so fascinated by the airplanes and trucks outside his window, the most noise he made was the sounds that trucks make, "Vrooom vroom!", "Wow!" and "Ooooh!". The girls were sitting quietly in their seats, and we were all settled and ready to go. A 30-something British couple found their seats behind us, and they immediately launched into a very loud hissy fit about being "surrounded by children", and spend the last 10 minutes before takeoff trying desperately to change seats so they didn't have to be near kids, and they eventually got their wish, and were moved 3 rows up- thank goodness, because I don't think I could have handled their glares and complaints for a whole flight. Atticus was jumping for joy at takeoff, and before we knew it, he was passed out in his seat. The babies took a 2 hour nap, and woke up refreshed and happy. The girls played with their iPods, colored and read books. Overall, it was an easy flight, considering, although a few of the flight attendants called me "crazy" for traveling with all these kids, despite having Tiffany for help. Once the plane landed and we were waiting for the plane to empty out, we got several compliments from passengers and flight attendants about how well behaved the kids were- score!

Fortunately we had a VAN service to pick us up because they got our bags to the car so we didn't have to deal with all that fun stuff. Also, thank goodness we brought our own car seats because, due to a miscommunication, there were 2 of them in the van and I think they had been manufactured in 1982, overhead shield and all. No bueno. We got in late, so there was no traffic into the city, and the kids were in daddy's arms in no time.

New York, New York!

Tomorrow we leave for New York to visit Monte while he works. He's already been out there for a month, and we're going to be visiting him for 2 months! We're all really excited to see him, and to have a change of scenery for a while. I can't wait to show the kids the museums, Central Park, the zoo, and the Statue Of Liberty. Although the older girls have been there before, they were so young at the time, I'm not sure they really remember any of it. It's sure to be a grand adventure, but I'm pretty nervous about the airport and flight. Fortunately, I have the help of my friend and neighbor, Tiffany, she will be joining us for the whole trip to help with the kids. Thankfully, because I couldn't do it without help. I don't even think I can legally fly alone with this many kids... could I? I'm mostly worried about getting through airport security with 4 kids. Getting everybody's shoes off, the stroller collapsed and loaded onto the belt, the two giant car seats for the twins, the carry-on bags, and then of course, getting the actual twins through before they run off while we're busy doing all of the above, and then chasing them through the airport... which is what Ariel did to me years ago as a toddler when I flew to Europe with her, and nobody helped me, rather, they rolled their eyes. It was probably because they were thinking "Wow, that lady is a moron, she can't even get ONE kid through security without holding up the line. What. an. asshole."

Okay, I guess security isn't the only thing I'm worried about, I am also quite a bit worried about boarding the plane. Gate checking the stroller (and maybe one of the car seats) , dragging the car seat(s) onto the plane, pulling our carry-on bags and backpacks... and oh, yeah, somehow carrying the babies along as well. This might be where the Ergos come in handy so we can go hands-free. I'm assuming the girls will be pretty easy. I imagine that Atticus will be running up and down the aisles the entire flight, saying hello to all of the other passengers and trying to take their electronics, and Beatrix will hopefully sit peacefully in her seat, munching on snacks, and the girls can play with their iPods or watch a movie on the iPad.

Then there will be our arrival at JFK, and getting everybody off the plane, getting our luggage, loading up the car, and driving into the city. I don't know why I ever bought black luggage in the past, because as nice looking and basic as it is, it's almost impossible to find your luggage on the carousel at the airport amongst all of the other black pieces! So, this time, I got the loudest, most obnoxious suitcase colors I could find. Fortunately for me, TJ Maxx is full of all that luggage that (for some mysterious reason) don't sell as well in the real stores. I'm pretty sure that I got some suitcases from Austin Powers' personal collection, so there will be no mistaking it!

Here's to a smooth journey to the other coast!

Lisa, It's Your Birthday, Happy Birthday, Lisa!

Today was my birthday. I had a great night out with Monte last night, just the two of us went to a nice dinner, and did a bit of bar hopping in Santa Monica. I think the kids were in cahoots today, and that their main goal was to present as many obstacles to us as humanly possible. First of all, getting out of the house was a feat in and of itself. The babies decided to take late naps, they resisted any and all attempts to feed them, and we didn't even get out of the house until 4pm. It was much later than planned, so we decided to eat an early dinner at a kid-friendly restaurant, then go to Target to redeem some gift cards that the kids all got for Christmas from their aunt Vikki. I know, very exciting, not only for a Saturday, but for my birthday as well... but I felt like keeping it simple. Anyways, while walking to the restaurant from the parking lot, Monte was holding Atticus, and the girls were fighting over who knows what, when one of them suddenly elbows Monte in the balls- he immediately drops to his knees, several passerby's stare, the girls are completely confused, and he can hardly move, nor talk. After a seemingly very painful minute, he slowly gets up and we somehow make it into the restaurant. Whew! We're in, now we can relax, right? Er... no.

Dinner was ridiculous, the older two girls were just fine coloring their menus, but I wonder what in the hell we were thinking when we decided to go out to a restaurant with all four kids. Every time, we say that we're never going to do it again, but then we do it again- seriously, WHAT THE HELL were we thinking?? If the babies weren't on top of the table, they were under it and if they weren't trying to dump out the salt and pepper shakers, they were jumping on the seats, screaming in their horrible shrieking pay-attention-to-me voices. It was chaos. Monte finally shuffled the kids out of the restaurant, into the mall, while I paid and finished my (much needed) glass of wine. When I met them by a fountain inside, they all seemed happy to be out and about, although Monte was still walking with a bit of a limp.

We went into Pottery Barn Kids, to let them explore for a bit, and I wanted the girls to pick out some new sheets. We spent a few minutes following them all around, picking up toys that the babies were relocating around the store, and of course, the one moment both of us had our noses in our phones, Beatrix decides to climb onto a table to check out the tea party that two baby dolls were enjoying on top of it. A woman (who I witnessed not 3 minutes earlier knocking several boxed of frames off of a shelf, by the way) sneered at us and commented loudly "Is anybody watching her??" while shooting me a dirty look. Okay, first of all, we so were watching our children, if we had not been watching them then Pottery Barn Kids would have nothing left on the shelves because all of their merchandise would be on the floor. Covered in Cheerios. Secondly, Beatrix was in the process of climbing from the chair onto the table, she wasn't technically even on the table yet, so Frame-Knocking-Over-Lady was just an old meanie who could have at least waited until Beatrix was standing on the table, teetering on the brink of death before freaking out on us. Thirdly... yeah... we were sooooo those assholes messing around on our cellphones rather than watching our kids... er.. not that we weren't watching our kids... Suffice to say, we left pretty quickly after that, sheetless, and on a mission to get some bad-ass toys from Target. Woohoo, Saturday night!

We get to Target and tell the kids that they can each pick out one gift within a certain price range, and they spend the next 20 minutes perusing the aisles, eventually settling on some goodies. I had to get tinfoil, and Monte needed something in the opposite direction, so I took the kids my way and we were to meet up in a few minutes by the tinfoil. Who would've thunk that walking 10 aisles with four INSANE children would be such an ordeal? Beatrix wanted to stay in the toy aisle, she would not stay seated in the cart, so I placed and buckled Atticus into the cart, carried Bea, and instructed the girls to walk close to me. The girls start fighting over who gets to push the cart, I start tell them that only I get to push the cart, and of course, as I'm speaking and trying to pry the girls' hands off the cart, Bea squirms out of my arms and runs the opposite direction, I chase her down. Just then, the girls take hold of the cart again, still fighting like maniacs, and begin pushing it full speed ahead towards some shelves full of household cleaners and before I could get to them- BAM!! They ram it right into the shelves, products go flying, Atticus is crying because he was thrown around in his seat, Ariel is crying loudly and holding her face because it was slammed into the cart's handle, and while I'm trying to see what the damage is to everybody, Beatrix takes the opportunity to make another escape, and I chase her down... once again.

Damn you, tinfoil.

So, I imagine at this point that we were quite the sight to see; Baby crying in the cart, 6 year old crying very loudly while holding her now BLOODY mouth, 4 year old trying to explain away- in the whiniest of all possible voices- how absolutely none of this was of her doing, and the other baby still squirming like a maniac in my arms, squealing, screaming, and completely focused on getting back to the toys aisle. I very hastily pick up the items that fell off the shelves and put them back, and rush the kids over to the foil aisle so I could get away from the staring people (because the last thing I needed to hear tonight was more commentary on my awesome parenting skills), and assess the situation. Just then, Monte walks up to us looking completely confused, "What happened?" I've decided never to leave the house again, that's what's happened. So, we went straight home, and opened a bottle of wine. It was very good.

I know this may sound crazy, but it was a great birthday, and I love my nutty family.

Yosemite

I haven't written anything in a long time, it's been a busy few months, and in August, we took a much needed family trip to Yosemite- CAMPING!!! Yes, actual camping. In a tent. 6 months prior, when I booked this trip, I wasn't really thinking logistics, I was just thinking about all the great potential memories we would make for our kids. Oh, how fun it will be to go camping IN A TENT in Yosemite, one of the most beautiful places in the world. When I was a kid, we went to Yosemite every summer in a MOTORHOME. It had a bathroom, and a kitchen, and several comfortable beds. So, as the months went by, and this trip got closer, I kind of realized that I have never actually camped in a tent. Ever. Ever? Ever. Apparently camping in an RV isn't actually "camping"... of course not. So, as the months and weeks got closer to the date, I started to FREAK out. I was nervous about the drive, the bears, setting up camp, keeping the kids clean, the bears, what activities we were going to do- did I mention the bears?? So, I started to gear up, bought the huge tent that would be our home for 2-3 nights, planned on what to pack for clothes, should we bring the stroller? I made reservations 6 months prior, online. Getting reservations at a campground on the valley floor in Yosemite, in the summer, is pretty much like winning the lottery. I actually couldn't get a spot for the early summer, so when the reservations opened up for mid-August on, we ended up getting a spot in late August, right before school was to start- close call! Not only did we get a campsite in one of the most sought after campgrounds, we got an AMAZING spot, right on the Merced river in Lower Pines. SCORE!! I reserved 2 nights, then quickly realized that it's a lot of trouble to go through for only two nights, why not make it three? I was lucky to find a third night online, a few minutes later at a different campsite within the same campground, but across the way against the woods. Sweet. I actually figured that we would barely last the first 2nights and be dying to get back to civilization after night one, so it wasn't a big deal, just a back-up plan.

So, we packed the roof rack, the ice chest, camping stove, stroller, beer, and hit the road at 5am, the morning we had to check-in. The drive up was not so bad, thank the gods for lollipops... and Barbie Princess movies. We got there in about 8 hours, including stops, in plenty of time to set up camp at our amazing campground with our perfect view of Half Dome. Fortunately, we had done a test-run on the tent in the back yard a few weeks prior, so tent set-up took only about 30 minutes, and within about an hour, we were able to (almost) completely relax and enjoy our riverfront view, while the kids played in the dirt, helped us build a fire, make dinner and roast their first marshmallows. The kids thought the squirrels were pretty funny because they would jump up on the tables and literally remove your food from your plate, as you were trying to eat it, and stare you down while they stuffed their cheeks. It was really awesome when they chewed through our bread bag when I forgot to put it back in the bear (and apparently, squirrel) box for 5 minutes.

Our neighbors were close, but not too close... although, I kind of felt for the young, child-free group of people who were next to us. The babies were not exactly quiet, and in order to get anything done, I had to set them down somewhere, which meant the Pack-N-Play... which meant pissed off, crying babies. Who wants to hear screaming and crying when they are in one of the most beautiful places in the world, on a trip that probably took a lot of planning- I'm sure the last thing they wanted was screaming, whining children, and I certainly didn't blame them. I could feel the annoyed vibes coming from the singleton camp, so, we ended up either holding, or wearing the babies on our backs a lot in the Ergo's because we didn't want to disturb them and ruin the experience, plus the babies seemed to enjoy being up high and part of the action.

We were having such a great time the first few days, that we decided that we WERE going to take that 3rd night! Not only that, but my parents suddenly decided to come up and join us at our new campsite, and they got there just in time to help us move our tent across camp. Apparently, this whole moving-camp thing is not an unusual because I saw a few people carrying their completely intact tents across camp and setting up elsewhere. Whew! We threw the tent on my dad's truck, and drove it across camp. I'm sure that our neighbors were happy to see us go.

Our new campground was right up against the woods, not as glorious as the waterfront, but still an incredible spot and I was so glad I had kept the reservation. The kids had a good time helping us set up camp again, and I can't even put into words what a relief it was to have grandma and grandpa there to help hold babies and cook food. They brought wine and yummy cheese and made actual meals- way more gourmet than the cereal and sandwiches that I had going on! I learned a lot on this trip, next time I'm not going to underestimate the power of the campfire. There are many delicious dishes to be made on that thing, but really, I think I should just pack my parents along for the next trip, that would cover all the bases. The new campground was very cozy (aside from my lingering thoughts of bear-attacks, which I most definitely kept to myself). It was very Oprah-goes-to-Yosemite, although my bear-fears were a little stronger in the new spot because we were against the WOODS now.

Apparently, in the wee hours of the mornings, the bears would roam the camps looking for grub, I could hear the rangers shooing them off, but we were extra strict about our bear box and there was nothing in the tent that they would want. At least this is what I kept telling myself every minute of every day there. Monte often walked to the general store at Camp Curry with a baby on his back, and I kept imagining a bear attacking them on the way to or from... once again, I kept this to myself.

The weather was perfection the whole trip, That day, we hiked to Mirror Lake and had a picnic on the sand while thekids frolicked in the water. We drank wine and ate cheese on a sheet that my parents were supposed to sleep on that night, but the babies peed on it... whoops. The girls ran around in the water, and we attempted to get the babies in because this was their only shot at a bath, which Atticus enjoyed all of 2 minutes and Beatrix not at all, she wanted no part of the water, and stayed on the sheet 90% of the time. Apparently you can pay $5 and shower at Camp Curry anytime you want. Camp Curry is a 5 minute walk from camp... good to know for next time because by the time we got home, the kids looked like homeless children.

The drive home took a little longer than the drive there, and for some ridiculous reason, we decided to stop in an Applebee's for some grub in Fresno. We thought that the kids would enjoy stretching their legs, and eating an actual meal. I think everybody in the restaurant must have thought we were insane for even attempting, though, because if the babies weren't on top of the table, they were running in different directions across the restaurant. They refused to sit in their high chairs, and we ended up taking all of our food to go. Why do we always forget that restaurants are off-limits with the kids, especially after going camping in the woods for 3 days? Overall, I am so glad that we were able to show the kids one of natures most beautiful accomplishments, and hopefully when the kids get a little bigger, we can hike the trails and spend a week, rather than 3 nights. When I went to Yosemite growing up, I never fully appreciated it. As a child, I didn't realize what a big deal it was for my parents to take us on this adventure, and as a teenager, I was SO annoyed that they MADE me go on this BORING trip- really?? Who was that girl. So, I am very thankful to my parents for dragging my ungrateful behind to this beautiful place, and I hope my kids don't resent me too much for doing the same to them for years to come.

Episode 1 of "Lisa and Liza" is here!

Someday I'll Land In The Nuthouse, With All The Nuts And The Squirrels! Weee!

Before having kids, when I would see disheveled children with messy hair, mismatched clothes and shoes on the wrong feet, I admit... I totally judged. I would think; "When I have kids, they will have perfect little braids and pigtails, and adorable clothes and their shoes will most certainly be on the correct feet." Well, it turns out that there are a lot of things you say before having kids about what kind of parent you're going to be that don't turn out quite as planned. I actually said that my kids won't watch any TV before 2 years old, but now that's just crazy talk! TV is awesome... and it's all DJ Lance Rock's fault.

I admit, with my first, I kept up with a lot of my expectations and did everything "right". I dressed her perfectly from Fred Segal, Babystyle (I still miss you!!!), Splendid Littles, and Gap. I bought her $75 True Religion jeans and 15 pairs of cute little shoes when 2 pairs were plenty. My house was mostly clean and organized, and trip to a store or restaurant was for the most part, easy peasy. Then #2 comes along, and things get a little more complicated. The daily tasks aren't quite as easy as they used to be, but I tried my darndest to keep up. I still managed to keep the house somewhat together, and darling daughter #2 got lots of faboosh hand-me-downs from her big sister (because at this point, I realized "who the hell in their right mind spends $75 on jeans for a 2 year old??")! Getting out of the house wasn't quite so easy with a toddler and a baby, and I admit that hair wasn't always styled into perfect little pig tails or braids, and sometimes their shoes didn't coordinate with their outfits (GASP!!).

When #3 and #4 came along in one package, it pretty much became sink or swim. If I can get everybody out of the house with clothes on, I consider it a success. No shoes? I have back-up in the car because I was sick of arriving at any destination with a barefoot child. How many times have I been to Trader Joe's with a (usually) shoeless Aurora?? Hair in pig tails or braids(Former self, you're joking, right?)?? Try brushed. There are many things that need to be accomplished before leaving the house and hair brushing is sadly pretty low on the totem pole. Then, of course, if I want to wear clothes, (which is always a nice touch) I need to find the time for that.

So, now I'm often the woman in public with the kids in mismatched clothes, maybe only half of their hair is brushed, and at least one of them has evidence of breakfast still stuck to their face. So, it goes without saying that I no longer judge mothers with kids who fit this description, rather, (much like Larry David in his excitement to see other Prius owners), now I smile and wave at them... like a crazy person... and probably scare them off.

Baby Mama

The other day, I attempted a trip to Babies R Us with the kids. I really needed suction cup bowls for the babies. So rather than wait for Monte to be home to help, there I found myself, balancing babies and herding the girls. Whoever I held on me was happy, and whoever was in the cart... wasn't. After switching them from cart to Ergo a few times at the cart-corral, I realized how ridiculous I must look when I looked up and noticed a woman who worked there staring at me through the window giving me a sympathetic look, and when we made eye-contact, she motioned an offer of help. "No thank you" I mouthed to her with an "I'm used to this shit" expression on my face. Once the babies seemed calm and happy, I hustled the kids into the store and headed for the feeding section. Almost immediately, Beatrix became angry that she was in the cart, so I picked her up and just held them both on me which made her happy, but, along with the other 2 standing at my feet, it's exactly the exact same thing as placing a giant neon sign over my head that says "PLEASE TELL ME THAT I'VE GOT MY HANDS FULL!" because almost immediately, that's what everybody I pass by in the store feels the need to say; "You've sure got your hands full!". "Wow, no shit!! Really?? I've never heard that line before, ever!" is what I truly, truly want to say, but I grit my teeth and simply reply "Yup!" with a smile.

I get my bowls and high-tail it for the registers. The babies are getting restless, and I'm starting to regret this decision. Why didn't I just order these things online?? I must be a glutton for punishment. As I'm standing in line, I am reminded of a time almost a year ago when I was at this same exact store, only under much different circumstances.

I had just been released from the hospital after having a C-section, and dealing with Atticus being in the NICU. We spent one night home with the babies hooked up to bili-blankets, hoping to get their levels down. We went to the Dr. to test them the next morning and had to wait for the results, so we drove home hoping that they were finally fine and we could move on from this.

We were on our way home when the Dr. called with the results of his bilirubin tests, and it turned out that he had to be re-admitted for another night or two, so we had to go back to the hospital. This had already been an extremely stressful few days with my recovery and breastfeeding the twins with cracked, bleeding nipples due to a bad latch with Bea, and Atticus in the NICU. This was almost too much to handle, I was utterly exhausted and now Atticus would have to be away from me for a whole night (maybe more) while I stayed home with Beatrix because they wouldn't allow her to stay at the hospital if I went with Atticus. It was decided that Monte would stay the night with Atticus and cup feed him my pumped milk for feedings, and I'd go home with Beatrix. I had to get some pump parts for my pump, and Monte had no idea what I needed, so we stopped by Babies R Us where I quickly jumped out to get it while he stayed in the car with the now crying babies.

I remember standing in line that day, 4 days after a C-section, my stomach still looking huge and pregnant, my hair a mess on top of my head, my face was surely a wreck of old makeup with bags under my eyes. As I stood there, clutching my valves and membranes, I glanced over to the magazine rack and what I saw brought tears to my tired eyes. There I was, on the current cover of Fit Pregnancy, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed with perfect hair and makeup and my little girls by my side. That was a world so far away from where I was in that moment; a disheveled, exhausted, hormonal mess with a lot of uncertainties ahead; How long would Atticus be in the hospital for? Would I make enough milk to pump for him and nurse Beatrix as well? Will I ever sleep again?? Monte was leaving in a matter of days for 6 whole months. I was overwhelmed and terrified. It was very rough, but fortunately, Atticus ended up being there for only one night, and I was able to make and pump enough milk to sustain both babies. We all survived then, and beyond and at almost 1 year they are still nursing strong!

So here I was again, same exact place, under much different circumstances. My two almost 1 year old babies were happy (a bit whiney) and healthy and clinging to my body, and the girls were by my side, begging for every toy in sight, gotta love 'em. Life is good.

Pain, Love And Destiny

I'm very proud to announce that after the success of his first album, The Deepest Dark, my amazingly talented husband, Monte, is going to record his second album soon. He's already written the incredible songs, he just needs the funds to record it in a studio, so he's started a "Kickstarter" program on Kickstarter.com. I can't wait to hear the finished product!! Check it out!

Beachy Keen

Yesterday, we decided to go to the beach to watch the sunset with the kids, and I wanted to get some cute pictures of them playing in the sand. We surprisingly got a close parking spot, which was very nice because Mr. Whiney Pants still can't handle too much walking on his poor wittle toe. I had Atticus in the Ergo, and Bea was in a Baby Bjorn on Monte. As we neared the steps to walk down to the sand, Monte looked at me and asked "Where are you going?" I was a little thrown off "Um, down to the shore, what do you mean?" he then responded, "I don't want to get my (broken toe boot thing) shoe dirty on the sand" I stared at him for a moment, still confused, "When I said 'let's go to the beach and watch the sunset', what part of that translated to 'from the pier'? We always go down to the sand when we come to the beach. Can't you just rinse the sand off the thing?" He shakes his head. "Well, take the boot off then, weirdo." He looked at me like I was asking him to lick white dog shit on the boardwalk. Basically we both had the same look on our faces, and neither one of us was going to budge. Since we were racing the sun, I just told him to hand over Bea, and I'd trek down to the sand with the kids by my lonesome.

So there I was, carrying two babies, diaper bag, and giant camera while trudging across the sand. Aurora was crying and begging me to carry her because it was "too hard to walk", and I obviously didn't have enough kids in my arms. Ariel was skipping along beside me, like the perfect little sunflower that she is. When I completed the 100 yard journey to the shore, I plopped the babies down, and the girls started digging in the sand. Whew. The light was fading fast. Mental note: next time, arrive at the beach when the sun is actually above the horizon line, not below.

The girls ran down towards the water, and I started to get a little nervous, so I scooped up the babies and ran down to join them. Holding two 17 lb. babies while trying to take pictures of the girls frolicking along the shore, with our giant heavy camera, is no easy feat. If I tried to put the babies down, they cried (plus I was scared of a big wave sweeping them away), but I didn't want to set them down too far behind me because I am paranoid about kidnapping, plus Atticus had already eaten his fair share of sand a few minutes earlier and he didn't really need any more. I could see Monte watching us from the pier above. Damn toe. Suddenly a wave swooshed up and knocked Ariel down in the water. SHIIIIT! What do I do now? Horrible images flooded my mind. I had the babies in both arms, and I couldn't set them down. Damn toe. Ariel manages to climb out and cries "My princess sandals are gone!" Great. "We'll get you new sandals!" Just then, we see one wash up on shore and Ariel runs down to get it. Then, a good samaritan finds the other and brings it to her. I hear "Ooh, ah, eeh, ahh, oooh, ah, eeeh!", and I look up to see Monte hobbling towards us in the sand... holding on to his precious bootie.

I love you toe, toe, toe, toe much

The worst thing that the babies can do to me, is to wake up at the same time in the middle of the night. Yes, I have two boobs, but no, the babies are no longer capable of using them both at once without attacking one another with their claws... which defeats the whole purpose of tandem nursing to sleep because they wake each other up every time. It's so awesome! No, not really. So, normally, they wake up about every 2-4 hours through the night. It's not really "waking up", more like rooting for a boob, which will ensure they don't completely wake up, then it takes anywhere from 10 min. to an hour to get them back down to a deep sleep. Yay! I basically spend the whole night hopping from one side of the bed to the other, nursing whoever needs it. It works out fine, as long as they don't wake together. That's when I seriously consider crying, but who's got energy for that?

Sometimes one will wake up, I start to nurse that one back down, they're almost out, then the other one wakes up and starts grunting and looking for me. Crap. He or she soon realizes that mommy isn't around, then quickly progresses to crying out for me, while I helplessly watch in silence, desperately hoping they'll miraculously fall back to sleep. The other night, it happened to be Mr. Atticus. I almost had Beatrix to sleep, and he got so mad that he started thrashing around the bed looking for me. He began to cry loudly, so I made an executive decision. I wondered how quickly I could scoop him up and get him into the crib in the office down the hall, so that I could at least get Bea back to sleep in silence? I de-latched Bea, grabbed Atticus, and ran down the hall. There was a doorway jumper in the doorway blocking my path- could I shove it aside and run past it? YES! But, that convenience didn't cross my mind at the time. With one hand, I quickly removed it from the top of the door and threw it aside, resulting in a loud crash. Oops. I continue on, setting Atticus in the crib, then... a loud 'THUD!" comes from the room down the hall, then, a deep moaning sound. The sound of my hero getting tangled in his blankets, and falling out of bed en route to rescue us all from the scary, loud crash. I needed to get back to Beatrix if I wanted to get her back to sleep in this small window of time... but I should probably go check on Monte. I popped my head in the door, and there he was lying on the floor. Aw, poor guy, he must've hit his knee again, I thought. He is ALWAYS hitting his knee on everything and it is not unusual for him to curl up in the fetal position on the floor after doing so.

I had to get back to Beatrix, but I felt obligated to ask him, "Are you okay?", his response was a series of moans. Men are such babies. But, really, how many more times was he going to bust that knee and roll around on the floor in pain? At this point poor Atticus was screaming in the crib, and if I could just get Bea back to sleep, I could work on him. But, it was too late, when I got back to the room, she was sitting up in the bed, wide-eyed and looking around the room, and as soon as she saw me, she started to cry. At this point I had two crying infants, and a husband who was STILL lying on the floor of the kids room down the hall, moaning and groaning. I picked up Beatrix, then went to get Atticus. I carried the crying babies down the hall to check on daddy. He was still on the floor. Really? He's still on the floor? "I think I broke my toe", he manages to groan. You have got to be kidding me. How dramatic can the guy be? Sheesh. "Do you need some ice or something?" I ask loudly over the babies cries. He responds with a moan, so I decide to walk around the house with the babies until they calm down, then I can deal with my other child, Mr. Whiney Pants, who I could now hear sliding down the hall on his butt.

Once the babies are calm enough, I set them on the rug in the living room to play. It's 3AM, not the ideal time for a playdate, but it'll do. I find Monte now in the bathroom, on the floor. Okay, now I see that there's blood everywhere- and, excuse me but, it's getting all over the white rug that just washed and- er... okay now I feel kind of bad because he looks like he's in pain... and it's swelling up a lot. He says "I think I need to go to the ER." Oh, really? "Okay, but you have to drive yourself." I say. There's no way I'm loading up 4 kids in the car at 3am, on a school night/day, no less, to take him to the ER for a busted toe. No way. The babies start fussing, so I go back to tend to them. Meanwhile, Monte hobbles into the bedroom to find clothes and a shoe for his working foot. He throws on an Adidas jumpsuit and a scarf. What a sight to see, he was- bloody toes, hopping on one foot- how did this happen again??

He somehow makes it out the door, and drives himself to the ER with his left foot. He later tells me how he felt like he was in the scene from Halloween 2 in the parking lot, as he tried to get from the car to the ER entrance. He hopped from car to car, clutching his now blood-covered foot in a wad of Starbucks napkins that he found in our car. He could see the entrance, and just beyond was the little check-in window with a nurse inside. He hopped with all his might, but couldn't quite make it in one go. As he sat, out of breath on the curb outside, not 20 feet from the entrance, a good samaritan exiting the ER offered to help get him in a wheelchair, and in he went, where he was told to take a seat and wait. For a moment he was glad that he might finally have a quiet minute or two to play Angry Birds, but he was in too much pain to concentrate on it. There weren't many people before him, but it seemed everybody was being let in before him because it was "just a toe." But, it turned out that his toe was busted real good. He broke his big toe-bone completely in half, and jammed his nail down and the cuticle skin with it. It's really gross, and apparently very painful. So, now, he's basically bedridden, on crutches, and I've gained a 5th child.

Fa La La La La, La La La La...

Christmas Eve is in 3 days- it's crunch time- and some of the items that "Santa" got the kids (online), have been showing up at the door. The girls notice almost every package that is delivered, so I have to try to be pretty careful about it, but I apparently can't hide everything. They saw a few big toys come in the mail that "Santa" got for the babies, and they had a few questions. I explained that sometimes Santa mails gifts ahead for mommy to wrap, because he's so busy, and they're short on elves this year (you know, the economy and all...). It seemed like they were processing this in their heads, but couldn't quite pinpoint the inaccuracies in my story. Kind of like when Santa came down the street last week, and Ariel asked why there was a truck pulling his sled, and why the police were following him... and how she asked why Santa was sitting in a chair at the mall all day... "why isn't he at the North Pole?"

Uhhhh... who wants icecream??

Speaking of the mall, this past Saturday, Monte had work stuff, so I decided to go to the mall with the kids. The Saturday before Christmas, alone... with all four kids. Yay. Parking was a bitch, but I eventually got a good spot up close. The main reason for my trip was not for Christmas gifts, actually (otherwise, I would have waited for a weekday), it was for baby clothes for Atticus. I realized he had no "normal" boy clothes, only onesies and footie PJ's. We had a baby shower to attend the next day, and I wanted him to look snazzy. I have plenty of girl clothes, oodles of it, actually. I know people say that girl clothes is so much more fun to shop for, but let me tell you, after having 3 girls and then finally getting that little boy- I LOVE shopping for boy clothes! The cute little collared shirts, cargo pants, loafers, baseball caps and ties- SO adorable! I was having way too much fun at The Gap, I had to hold myself way back from getting too much loot. The kids were being pretty good, but I ended up having to bribe the girls with toys to get them to last the hour that we were there. The babies got fussy, and I had to switch them out from Ergo to stroller, and back again a few times for them to nurse so they'd calm down. I finally got a few fabulous things for my little man, and got his Christmas outfit covered as well.

The parking lot was a madhouse, so when I arrived back to my parked car, another car quickly noticed, stopped, and threw on their blinker. I had opened the sliding doors and back hatch of the spaceship before I had even reached it, so I was able to start loading immediately. Now, if you're waiting for a lady to load 4 kids into a minivan in a parking lot, so that you can get the spot, you want to be waiting for me. I'm as quick as they come, but I'm no magician. I tell the girls to jump in and get seated. Meanwhile, I remove an infant seat (with child) from the stroller, and snap it into one of the car adaptors. I then remove the second infant seat from the stroller (sans child), and snap that into the car adaptor. Then, I remove whoever is strapped to me and place and buckle them into the infant seat. Then, I remove shopping bags and purse from stroller, which are now very wet, and throw them in the front seat. Then, I quickly fold the stroller and throw it in the back, then close the hatch. The person in the waiting car throws up a hand as if to say "Any day now", and gives me an impatient look. I mouth "sorry" to them while giving an apologetic smile. Why am I being so nice to this wanker? Not even 7 years ago, I'd have rolled my eyes, and given them a dirty look, but now I'm apologizing to them because they chose to wait for the spot of a mom with four kids to load in? I then reach into the back from one side-door to help Ariel get fully buckled, then I switch to the other side, and buckle in Aurora. I look back at the asshole in the still-waiting car, and give a little half-wave. Happy now, shithead?

I think I made a decision in my subconscious, years ago, that I'd just let things go when on the road. Road rage is a serious thing, especially in LA, and it just wasn't worth it to me, anymore. I used to drive aggressively, like I was playing Tetris. I'd speed through traffic in my Mustang convertible, zipping in and out of cars, honking and flipping people off. Ya know, like a normal L.A. driver. Now, I let people cut me off, I let people steal my parking spots from right in front of me, and I drive the speed limit. I try not to let it bother me, and I just grit my teeth, and curse them out in my head. Or, I write it down, and post it on my blog.

The Great Escape

Where do all the braincells go when you have a baby... or two... or... more? Are they stored away in some sad little neurological file somewhere? Are they escaping via breastmilk? Did I just get way too boring for them, and they jumped ship?

It is now imperative that I have a system in place for certain things like, say, cooking. For example, I have to set the oven timer, even when using the stove, otherwise I'd destroy every meal that I cook. It took a lot of over-boiled pasta and over-steamed veggies to learn that something had to be done. But, my lack of brain power is not limited to the stove. I quite often place perishables in the cupboards, and put cleaning products in the fridge. One time, I was actually laying in bed about to fall asleep, when I suddenly remembered that I had gone to Trader Joe's earlier in the day, and it was all still in the back of the car... let's just say that a few things had to be thrown out.

It seems that the only things that I don't forget are my children. That's a plus, eh?

One of the most annoying things that challenges what's left of my braincells, is when I drop Ariel off at school, through the valet drop-off. I always get nervous because there are so many steps for my slow, tired brain to remember, and, of course, I don't know how to use all of the features on our semi-new minivan. Did you know that if I unlock my car while driving, it will re-lock itself within a few minutes if I don't open a door? Did you know that if I don't have it in park, the auto-sliding doors won't open? That's a great safety feature, by the way. Fantastic.

Did you know that this is too challenging for me to comprehend on most mornings?

This is how a bad morning with the valet, for me, unfolds: I unlock the doors while waiting in line, so that it's checked off my list. The babies are usually crying because they hate being in their car seats, and Aurora is whining something along the lines of "I want to be a big girl, too." or "I want a lollipop!" So, I pull up to the spot to drop Ariel off, the doors are now locked, and the sliding door won't open. Drat. So, I unlock the doors again, meanwhile, the nice 5th grader, who has the good fortune of getting my car, is trying to open the door which is now unlocked, but still won't open for some mysterious reason only reserved for a special few (namely me). I absolutely cannot figure out why it won't open, I rack my brain, and I start to panic because the cars are waiting behind me to move on, but my kid is still in my car. Crap, crap, crap. I finally grab my poor, confused child from the back of the car and quickly shove her out the front passenger door, "Bye sweetie, have a nice day!" The 5th grader is looking at me like I'm insane, as I pull out and drive away. It's only then that I figure it out. Damn it.

So, now, every day when I drop her off, I have a system. I seriously have to repeat in my head: "Unlock the door, put car in park, push door button. Unlock, park, door. Unlock, park, door."

Get Into The Groove

Monte is home! Hallelujah! I'm so excited! Yay!

Let the re-acclimation begin.

First off, let me just say that Monte is the most amazing father and husband I could ever ask for. He's putting up with my crazy antics one minute, and having tea time with the girls and their Barbie dolls in the next. Massaging my shoulders on a moments notice, and then he's strapping a baby on him in a carrier, so I can feed the other one- he's a great man! Only, it always takes him just a few days to get back into the swing of things. Being out on tour is a whole 'nother world from our Dora Explorin', mini-van driving, suburbia, and I try to keep that in mind every time.

Depending on who he was on tour with, he always comes home with almost an entire new wardrobe that corresponds almost directly with the artist he just worked with, and/or the people around him or her. Like, last time he was on tour with Madonna, he came home with very strict rules about brand-mixing. For example, he wouldn't wear Nike shoes with Adidas socks, a fashion tip learned from the dancers, no doubt. This time, he showed up not only with smudged black eyeliner and a trace of glitter from previous night's London show, he was also wearing skinny jeans tucked into boots. Skinny jeans. On my husband. And NEW boots, I might add. Boots that look exactly like two other pairs that he has in our tiny, overstuffed closet. When I nag him about why he bought new boots that look exactly like the other two pairs, he says "It was cold in Sweden, I needed boots." That is also the same explanation he gives when I ask why he bought new sweaters, scarves, hats and jackets. How long does he really think he can keep playing the "I didn't know how cold it was going to be in Northern Europe in winter" card? He does this absolutely every time. Nice ploy... but, I'm on to you, honey!

Can we talk coffee mugs? The man can't help himself- he must buy coffee mugs in every city and country he visits- and he's been to a lot of cities and countries . I admit, I should take some responsibility for this because when we first met, he had never had a cup of coffee in his life. I turned him into a coffee fiend and now he has a mug from just about every place in the world- Jerusalem, Moscow, London, Tokyo- I have giant tupperware containers of them in the attic because they no longer fit in the kitchen cupboards. I've asked him to move on to magnets or Christmas ornaments or anything else, but sure enough, he came home with (only) 4 coffee mugs this trip.

I think I need to have a talk with him about shower time. On tour, the man can sleep, shower and eat almost whenever he pleases (he will claim the opposite to be true)- I should at least try to be a little understanding of his naivety. The poor dear was away for 6 months, after all. Maybe I should practice here: "Monte, I love you very much, but when you disappear without notice, only for us to discover that you've been in the shower for 30 minutes... it makes me want to spike your coffee with cat pee." How's that?

Another thing is when he asks where random things, that I never knew even existed, have gone.

Him: "Where's that ginger tea that I got in Singapore?"

Me: "Ummm... you went to Singapore 6 months ago."

Him: "Yeah, I know... so, where is my ginger tea?"

Me: "Did I know you got ginger tea? Are you kidding? Check under the couch. While you're at it, let me know if you find my pre-pregnancy body."