Cali Mom's Corner

Artisans

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 20:00:00 +0000

As someone who takes pride in knowing the 'craft' of cooking I take umbrage to all the labeling and advertising that intimates that their products are also handmade.

If you buy something at Target, Walmart, Ralph's or some other mega-food-discount-conglomerate you can be pretty certain that the item is not handmade. At least not handmade by someone in this country, or over the age of 20, or someone paid more than $5 a day, or someone who remotely cares about the quality of the product.

Hand-crafted, Hande-made, Artisan, it's all a bunch of hooey.

Another mega-multi-user product, Wiki, describes Artisan this way...
Manufacture by hand and with hand tools imparts unique and individual qualities to artisanal products, in contrast to mass produced goods where every one is nearly identical. Artisans traditionally work in media such as wood , ceramics , glass , common and precious metals , basketry , textiles , esparto grass , and leather. ~Wikipedia

If it was truly crafted by an artisan and then sold at 200+ megastores that 'artisan' would be on a beach in Tahiti by now and too damned exhausted to enjoy it.

This is how reading about Artisan Bread makes me feel.
After the work and effort I chose to put into the homemade meals I served my family this Christmas...the mega stores and ad agencies can take their 'artisans' and ... well I'm much too much of a lady to tell ya where they can put them.

Just one Artisan's opinion.

The Boy's Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 20:03:00 +0000

It seems that every holiday with the Jakester brings with it something new. There is always a new quirk buried within the festivities and gifts just waiting to come out.

This year had its own story, just like every year that passes. I am so grateful to have such a rare gift as this precocious child in my life.

Shawn and I decided it was time for the Jakester to get a new bike. He had grown leaps and bounds this past year and the old bike had become too small. I took the boy shopping with me while Shawn went to pick out a fine, bright red Haro for the boy. We knew he'd love it.

After a nice Christmas eve with my brother and the grandparents, Jake and I finally settled down to sleep. With all the excitement, I knew the boy would have a hard time settling down. I didn't expect it to be 11:30 before he finally fell asleep.

My dad and Susie (my dad's Jewish girlfriend...they celebrate Hana-mas each year and all us kids get to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, it's great fun) were waiting for Jake to settle down so they could help me wrap presents. I finally got up and sent them to bed. It just wasn't happening. The boy was wound!

Finally, after wrapping gifts, I went to sleep on the couch in the living room. The grandparents had my bed. At 4am I woke up to see the boy looking around the living room. The sight of cookie crumbs on the santa plate and full stockings had the boy smiling with sleepy glee.

"Mom! Santa came!" He said as he flopped on top of me on the couch.

"Yes, he did and it's the middle of the night. Go back to sleep." Except, at that point, I'd had about an hour of sleep and couldn't make myself get up. The boy fell asleep right on top of me until I finally found the wherewith all to get him back into bed.

Finally, morning arrived and with it Shawn parked Jake's new bike and bean bag in front of the tree. Soon the boy woke up and I sent him in to wake the grandparents.

We all sat down around the bright red bike and bean bag in the middle of the living room, while Jake bee-lined it right to the stocking he had seen at 4am.

We all looked at each other askance. Didn't the boy notice the bike?

Around the bike he went to get his stocking. Then, he showed us all his goodies practically over the bike's mid-section. Finally, he walked around the bike to show us his toys. Still no sign of awareness emerged.

After a while, he looked around and said, "Where's my sleeping bag? I thought Santa would bring me one." He meant the bean bag right at his feet.

By then we were all just watching him and giggling to ourselves, trying not to laugh. It took the boy at least 10 minutes to notice the bike and bean bag.

Only after we pointed out the bean bag and he walked further away from the center of the room to test a toy did he turn back and suddenly, finally,

"A new bike?!?!" The boy was stunned and we were all laughing.

One thing is certain, life with the Jakester is never boring.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas.

The Boy Made the Paper!

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 20:13:00 +0000

The Treatment

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 20:24:00 +0000

The boy was in the bath recently and yells out to me,

"Mom, come put a hot towel on my face!" He had a washcloth in the bath with him for some ultra-scrubbing that the filthy knees needed. How do boys get so filthy?

I think this particular occasion it was Funky Friday at school. Jake's imminently cool principal puts on his wild gear and plays DJ every Friday on the black top. An hour of Funky Friday dancing and my child is black from top to bottom.

So, with a rare wash cloth in hand, the boy had pampering in mind.

"Mom, get this towel real warm and then I'll lie down and you can wrap it on my face."

"Where did you get that idea Jake?" I'm all for a fine pampering but honestly, where do these ideas come from?

"The lady did it to dad the last time we got haircuts." Oh! I'm seeing it now.

So, I warm the towel and wrap it around the submerged boy's face, leaving only his little button nose showing.

Ooohs and Aahhs emanate from the vicinity of the towel swathed button nose.

Then, night number two.

"Mom, can I have The Treatment again?"

"The what?" I'm slow to the culminating pattern.

"The Treatment. You know, the warm towel on my face." This comment drips with disdain. How could she be so dense? "But now can I have some music too?"

"Oh! But of course your Highness. Why not scented candles and fine chocolates too?" I can also play high and mighty.

"Yeah Mom, I want ALL that, too!" The child is beside himself for not thinking of it first.

"Well, of course you do!" I'm cracking up as I go get candles and the boom box, lower the dimmer lights in the bathroom and wrap the warm towel around the button nose again.

My child, what a child.

So, now, I really do know what he means when he asks for the treatment!

Tied Up

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:12:00 +0000

I received a phone call from Jake on Saturday while I was out shopping garage sales with Frenchie. The Jakester learned how to tie his own shoes over the weekend!

He and Dad have been working on it and they had a breakthrough on Saturday. The boy is so proud of himself. This morning as we were in the mad dash to get to school on time we screeched to a halt right after clothes on, teeth brushed and before car and seat belt.

"Mom, did you know I can tie my shoes all by MYSELF?"

"Yes, I did. You called me, remember? I'm so proud of you."

"With the double knot too Mom." This sentence dripped with imperious disdain. How do they train kids to sound like that so young?

"Watch mom." Of course I'm watching the clock too. It's a very small window between being early to school and arriving right in the chaos of drop-off which can put you late and stressed in a heartbeat.

With meticulous painstaking slowness the boy tied both shoes. Big loop, around the bend, pull it through and the double knot to boot.

Way to go Jake and Dad !!

The little man is growing up. (sniffle sniffle)

The Terminator

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:15:00 +0000

I'm a little late in posting this but it was worth posting so here I go.

The Jakester decided long before Halloween that he would be the Terminator for the big day.
Easier said than done, apparently. If there isn't a current release of a movie in the offing during a particular Halloween season it is really difficult to find those character costumes.

You'd think in the state of the Govenator we'd be able to find this costume year round but o'contraire!

So, the hubby and the boy went a' lookin' for the prized costume. After a 6 hour excursion, 3 costume shops, two mega stores and 50 bucks later.....ta da! The Terminator.

I was pretty impressed that the deed got done without any input from me, lol.

Anyhow, we planned to go Trick or Treating at my girlfriend Sally's with her kids.
Usually a group comes to our house but this sounded fun and they have never spent Halloween together...this particular group of friends.

On the way there I was asking Jake the usual mom litany of questions.

"When you go to each house, Jake, what do you say when they open the door?"

In perfect Terminator fashion, his dad and I hear from the back seat,

"I'll be back."

We just busted up.

Of course, all the rest of the night we tried to get the child to deliver the primo one liner with no success.

Once was all we were gonna get, why mess with perfection?

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 03 Jul 2007 18:09:00 +0000

Here I go again! Just how many blogs do I really need?

Angels and Devils

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sat, 30 Jun 2007 02:10:00 +0000

Before you even start reading, I’m giving fair warning that this is another gushy episode of the antics of the Jakester. I promise to entertain you with something different soon but I just have to record this one...I just have too, alright?

Lately, Jake is all about emoting, in both affectionate and downright 'precocious boy' ways.

My hubby bought a songbook a couple days ago of children’s songs to try out on our piano. Now, I took piano lessons growing up but I have no clue how to play any longer. Even the recital pieces I had to memorize have vacated my mind leaving me with absolutely no ability. Shawn and I met in high school choir, so his thought was that one of us could at least plunk out the tunes for Jake. Sure enough, he was able to sound out “Farmer in the Dell” fairly easily. As these things go in a busy family, the piano sits open with the music sitting there forgotten for the moment.

With the piano open, Jake has been playing ‘music’ for us the last two nights. I need to record the songs he sings. They will remind me of why I am a mom when he’s 17 and thinks I’m completely out of touch.

“Mommy, I’m going to sing a pretty song for you.” Random plunking on the piano keys ensues. (Though, I’m rather impressed that it’s not the usual mind numbing pounding Jake favors.

♫ “I love my mommy and my mommy loves meeeee. I love to hug her... and I love to kiss her. I love my mommy. That’s my song…..love……yeap, that’s my song.” ♫

OMG, isn’t that just enough to melt an overworked mom’s heart? Kids can be so incredibly cute, loving, touching, you name it, sometimes.

The next song came while he was looking at the picture on the “Farmer in the Dell” sheet music.

♫ “I love the farmers…and I love the cows….and the chickens….yeah….and I love the farmers….oooo” ♫

In my mind, this second piece wasn’t quite as inspired as the first but then it could just be my bias for the subject matter, lol.

To be fair, I need to show the other side of my little angel’s personality this week as well.

He’s almost 4, so potty humor is a riot right now. As there are many successful comedians out there that specialize in this shtick, I don’t suppose this is going to change any time soon.

He’ll sit in my lap, giggling, and say, “I farted on you Mom….ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!! Did you feeeeel it?” At first, I was tickled by the whole new event farting had become. I laughed. Oh, BIG mistake! As my girlfriend Sally says, “If it’s funny once, it’s funny 40 times.” She's right. This joke has gone on and on and on… he’s like the energizer bunny. I’m over it. He was so polite to say, “Excuse me” before the comedy kicked in. Now, after a few months of it being funny… “Haaaa, I farted!!!!” I’m trying to re-introduce some manners. The cuteness seriously wears off in the middle of the grocery store, when at full voice he says, “I’m gonna fart on you Mom!!!” followed by maniacal, devil child laughter.

Oh, the price I’m paying for thinking the little man was cute!

For the Super Moms (That's all of Us)

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Fri, 29 Jun 2007 02:09:00 +0000

My hubby is a stellar Dad, one of the naturally good with kids men, who make life as a mom easier because of all that he does. He'll run out in the middle of a pack of kids, entertaining them for hours with street hockey or pretending to be super heroes sliming bad guys and I so love that about him. I would never say anything against dads, because they are just as important as the moms and so very necessary in the growth and well being of our children. That being said, the following joke struck my funny bone and I just had to share. For the moms, you are the bomb and I still can't believe how any of us do it all and stay sane.

THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives and send cards out on time.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and to a haircut appointment. He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on a holiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation).

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done. Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of each and every character on cartoons.

Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.

Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try to get through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.

They must attend weekly school meetings and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

He will need to read a book to the children each night without falling asleep, and then feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave the home with no food on their face or clothes.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite colour, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. and then spend the remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.

They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, "You're not the boss of me".

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

Happening in the Land of Jakester

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 02:07:00 +0000

During the last few weeks I’ve collected a few memories and quirks of the Jakester that need to be recorded for posterity. My mind turns to sludge with the amount of detail that life requires, so the little fun remembrances seem to just poof like so much dust if I don’t write them down.

When we were nudist camping last month, Jake fell in love with the place all over again. He has been there twice before, however, in the land of three-year olds a year is a really long time. The evolution of his reaction to all things naked has been interesting. He was a naked baby, crawling around our friends RV one very rainy weekend, a couple years ago. He didn't seem to notice any difference at that age.

When he was a naked two-year old, he peed on every bush in sight. “Mommy, we get to pee on bushes when we’re camping right?” Ah, every male child’s dream. The first time we went to our community pool after that trip, he shucked off his swim trunks without a thought. “No, Jake, you need to keep your clothes on when we’re at home.” Getting that point across took several talks. You never know what you’re in for when you decide to change the routine.

Now, this year, he was old enough to understand that the nudist camp is a special place. He had so much fun, he coined a new phrase. “Mom and Dad, we have so much fun being naker. I love Naker World!” After our trip, we returned to the real world and Jake has handled the transition back to clothes without any hiccups.

His jaw is healing well, he was given the okay to eat solid foods again and they have finally taken off the ‘grill.’ Everything he eats is surveyed and if it happens to be something crunchy, he looks up at me proudly and says, “I can crunch now Momma!” It’s amazing how we can appreciate something so mundane after we’ve lost the ability for a while.

His teeth are now crooked, his bite is off, we have to see the oral surgeon for re-checks, an orthopedic dentist to discuss how the wires pushed around all his teeth and finally his regular dentist to wrap up the whole picture; but all-in-all, we are blessed to have a healthy boy with such a renewed gusto for food. He had lost a couple pounds during the initial accident and liquid diet phase, but now I’m sure he’s put on that weight….the kid is heavy! Soon, I will have to stop offering to carry him to bed. Boo hoo hoo, my little man is growing up….again. Funny, how we welcome every milestone and grieve the loss of every outgoing stage of babyness at the same time.

And the 'why' stage is still ramping up to full throttle, I try my hardest to give full and concise, understandable answers but several nights a week I hit the wall. “I’m done Jake, no more ‘why’ questions.” “Why, Mommy?” Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Jake has a new daycare provider. Ms. Betty is the bomb; she has been taking care of children for decades and is completely hardwired for kids. As soon as we arrive she starts with a letter of the day. “What is our letter? P is for purple and potatoes and popping bubbles! Let’s sing the P song.” Off she goes, I no longer exist. I’m so thankful. I was at my wits end trying to find one more family member who was willing to take care of my boy each day. I have the most awesome family and they really came through for us. I just kept saying, this too shall pass….and it has finally. Ms Betty will take care of the boy until he starts Montessori school in July.

Three year olds are a world unto themselves. Jake and I walked in to Ms. Betty’s the other day and another three year old came running. “Hello Jayden, how are you today?”

Jayden is a very active three year old, quite exuberant and still learning good pronunciation. “What’s my name?” He says, with a serious look on his face.

“Jayden,” I respond, always wanting to be the helpful parent figure.

“What?” He says, as if I just called for him, completely forgetting that a moment ago he asked what his name was. At this point I’m thinking, “Hm, not the brightest apple in the bunch.”

Then, once again we do our little dance. “What’s my name?”

“Jayden.”

“What?”

Now, I'm doubting my own intelligence for playing along with this event. You just never know where those little growing minds are going to lead you.

Parenting takes a whole heaping truckload of patience. You just have to laugh and find the amusement in all the silliness or you’ll just end up pulling out your own hair.

Jake and I went shopping the other day. I needed a dress for a wedding we were soon to attend. Jake sees every trip to any store as a possible toy buying excursion. Sometimes I give in, most times not. On this day, he was being a pistol so there was a very slim chance that a toy purchase would be in the offing; however bribery can be a very useful tool when you’ve just got to get a toddler through a store. So, I gave in and we found a small toy. I told him we’d buy it if he made it through the store without a hitch.

After several questions along the lines of, "Can I open my toy Mom?" He finally seemed content to just hold the plastic wrapped prize...or so I thought. I tried on some shoes and finally returned my attention to my child, sitting in the cart and doing his damnedest to slowly peel the backing from the plastic encasing his prize. "What are you doing Jake? Didn't I say you had to wait until we bought it?"

"Well, yes Mommy, but I was talking to myself real quiet and I said 'I am just going to open it a VERY leetle bit.' Yeap, that's what I said."

How can you argue with reasoning like that?

Blonde Jokes

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sat, 23 Jun 2007 02:06:00 +0000

I typically eschew pages that are simply cut and paste joke centers. We all have a bevvy of email folks that send this type of 'filler' to our mailboxes, why spread the plague? However, I'm posting a joke I received today from my father.

My dad has a connection in mind that links me with blonde jokes. Yes, I am still mostly blonde (as are all my siblings, so why I'm singled out is a mystery). But at this point, several years hence from the inception of this now time honored tradition, I fail to remember why.

He's always given me credit for having a fairly intelligent mind, so I take the blonde jokes leveled in my direction with the sense of humor with which they were intended. At least, it is my hope that this isn't some thinly veiled way of telling me to get my tuckus back to college, lol.

These days, every time I see a blonde joke, I think of my dad.

Maybe the Best Blonde Joke Ever! Two blonde girls were working for the city public works department. One would dig a hole and the other would follow behind her and fill the hole in. They worked up one side of the street, then down the other, then moved on to the next street, working furiously all day without rest, one girl digging a hole, the other girl filling it in again. An onlooker was amazed at their hard work, but couldn't understand what they were doing. So he asked the hole-digger, "I'm impressed by the effort you two are putting in to your work, but I don't get it -- why do you dig a hole, only to have your partner follow behind and fill it up again?" The hole-digger wiped her brow and sighed, "Well, I suppose it probably looks odd because we're normally a three-person team. But today the girl who plants the trees called in sick."

The Big "G" Graduates

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 02:03:00 +0000

My uncle will receive his PhD this week. Here's to wishing the Uncle Gary a happy graduation and hearty congratulations. I was just sure he'd be in college until I retired. His first degree and career was as a chemist. After retiring he started anew. So, now on to more worthy endeavors. He is certainly the brains of this little family unit. I could write a pithy article about the man, the myth, but it's late and I'm bushed.

I've been barely treading water for the last few weeks workwise and otherwise, keeping the boy covered with family caregivers and tied up with rubberbands, so now it's off to Davis for a few days to enjoy, relax and celebrate. Good news today, Jakers got the okay to remove the rubber bands. Hubby said they were off before the doctor finished the sentence, lol.

I hope you all enjoy the rest of the week. I'll check back in with you all very soon.

Insanity and the Brainless

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 01:57:00 +0000

Yesterday I was stacked with work. Not fun work but the work that I save for the very last, the work that I dread doing. As I sat before my computer, a full plate of minutiae to tackle, I found my mind wandering to the hundred and two other insanely important things I needed to accomplish which had to wait because of the startlingly important, aforementioned minutiae.

After four weeks of begging and pleading with every family member to watch my wired son, I was faced with yet another week of finding daycare for my boy. My bank account hadn’t been reconciled by the weekend when I logged on to the website to pay my mortgage like a good little soldier. So, Monday morning my thoughts turned to the dread of, “Exactly how much money do I have left?” I have several family tax returns still to finish, my dearest friend Frenchie’s birthday was imminently close (That’s today!!!), and I couldn’t keep my mind focused on that crap on my desk!

Every time I get stuck on one more of those “Does section 103 C apply in this situation and if so and there is a significant departure from GAAP have you addressed this with the client, made the appropriate notations, written the disclosures and gotten a note from your mother?” I found myself....drum roll please….back online looking at my damned 360 page! Why can’t I keep my mind focused on this stuff? Could it be that I’m just not meant for this?

Many of my clients say I have a gift for it. I can easily get to the heart of their problem, make light of it, converse with them in a way that makes accounting understandable and yet sometimes it drives me completely batty. There are a few accountants I know that fall into the ‘bean counter’ variety. They love those damned checklists and thrive on driving the rest of us bananas with SSARS regulations. I’m just not cut out for it. I find my brain turning to mush. I doubt my own intelligence at times like these. Why can’t I just stay focused? I know it takes diligence not to fade off when the going gets tough but at times I can’t even force myself.

I won’t even throw in the, “But I’m artistic, I’m not meant for this minutiae.” That’s a big helping of self justification and I know I excel at that skill. We all have the fun things in life and the drudgery. I just need to suck it up and get it done.

Yesterday, I put up a list of topics and by far the desire is for personal stories and experiences. I’m pretty certain this load of whining is not what was in mind, but that’s what is on my plate for today. If I were a cat, I’d be making that obnoxious sound that gets a boot hefted at them in the middle of the night.

Okay, focus... focus… focus. Lather, rinse, and repeat. Ugh!

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 05 Jun 2007 01:56:00 +0000

One of my friends, the illustrious and mysterious Mister E., has a 360 group which is looking for blog topics to add to a list which will serve to be the muse for those who find themselves without inspiration. Personally, I find that I write as the mood strikes me in those little in-between times that life offers. If I didn’t take those opportunities as they presented themselves, I’m sure I wouldn’t write at all. For those of us who choose a busy life, these little escapes are very necessary and tend to be the only option. I have tried setting a time in the evening, after my day was complete, to sit and write in earnest. Some of you may remember that bleak and barren time. I didn’t post a blog for a solid month. Some things cannot be planned, at least not in my current state of affairs.

However, I have on occasion; found myself with a deluge of ideas to write about and no computer handy with which to record them. Typically, as soon as I find a computer the ideas vanish as if they were vapor.

So, in the interests of sharing, I thought I’d make a short list of topics that are currently on my mind, ideas which may or may not come to fruition. If you see a topic that just dazzles you, let me know, I may give it more thought if there’s interest. Or perhaps there are ideas you have that you would like me to write about…a writer’s challenge perhaps. I’m simply brainstorming here. It is said that you should write what you know, but it is also a good exercise to stretch your wings a little and try something new.

So, without further adieu, here are the ideas currently percolating:

The OC, the good and bad of the illustrious Orange County

Huell Howser, California’s Gold or where did he get that accent?

The Continuing Jakester Files, always in process.

Surfer Rider Foundation, beach awareness.

That QuickBooks Series (Yes, Will, I’m still pondering how to present this)

My brother’s triathlon in full color. This would take learning a new skill (multiple picture posting, which I just figured out) and finding out if my bro wants to be ‘in the news.’

My fifteen minutes of fame, or the story of how I got involved in taking 100 women to Alaska to meet men.

More on personal discovery, topic depends on the day’s musings.

More fictional stories. I’m not sure if there’s any interest here, except my own desire to learn how to form and execute a full plot, but I thought I’d include it.

Art History - I minored in art history and plan on becoming an art restorationist for my next career. This may be a topic I'm not qualified to write but I would enjoy trying my hand at research.

More recipes from Frenchie Pooh.

Frenchie Pooh blog to come….it’s her birthday tomorrow! Happy Birthday Frenchie! She may be one year older but she’s still younger than me. Ask her, she’ll tell ya!

Well, that’s all that comes to mind at the moment. I’m interested to know what you want to read and also how you approach your own creative process.

I would like to give all my friends a writing challenge. I would love to read about your thoughts on your local area, state, etc. Some of you do an amazing job at giving the rest of us a bird's eye view of your hometown, like Eddo, for example...others, I have no idea where you live, lol.

If you choose to take the challenge, happy writing!

Patterns

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 01:55:00 +0000

It has been three weeks of the fabulous liquid diet and we finally caught a break. The oral surgeon gave the go ahead for soft foods this week. The Jakester has been in heaven eating pasta, eggs, and whatever else he deems worthy of mashing between the crisscrossing rubber bands that hold his jaw together. My job title has thus changed from the Queen of the Blender to the Mistress of the Rubber bands. Everyday he is popping them off or breaking them in his wholehearted glee at the re-introduction to food.

I’ve found that with children, the only real constant is change. As soon as you catch sight of a prevailing pattern and snuggle down into a routine they grow or mature in some tiny way and the pattern is skewed. Then it’s time to adjust and learn the new pattern. Whenever I come up against a wall with him and we’re struggling I have to remember this. I’ll find myself raising my voice and wondering what's wrong? My angelic child disappeared, leaving me this wild unruly animal. Then, I’ll remember. It’s been about 4-5 months, time to change.

Lately, Jake has discovered adjectives. They all represent speed and size. At 3 ½, a boy is only interested in things being bigger and faster. I’m sure several women would venture to say that nothing really changes as they grow older, but I’m nearsighted so I’ll only judge from the little man I’m raising at the moment.

This morning,

“Did you find your shoes little man? We’ve got to go!” (There is a constant searching for shoes around our house and I am always running late.)

Silence radiates from the vicinity directly in front of the TV tuned to the Disney channel. I’m late and I have a child with TV coma to deal with now, great.

“TV’s off, go find your shoes!”

“Awww, Mawwmmmm!” Sarcastically laced whining emanates from my child. I was sure kids didn’t sound like that until their teens. I was wrong.

5 minutes pass, while I'm making breakfast, doing dishes, putting in laundry, emailing the office which client I'm visiting today. “Did you find your shoes?”

“No, momma, and I looked All Everywhere!”

I open the shoe closet, the last place I would have looked too. “Here they are.”

“Ahhhhh, I’m a silly Jake!” Where do they come up with these lines? Still, I'm smiling now.

Every car is Really Super Fast. Actually everything that moves is Really Super Fast.

“Look Mom, I built a really, super fast rocket ship!” “Look Mom, a really, super fast boat!!””Look Mom, a really, super fast……” Do you see a pattern?

Trackers

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Fri, 01 Jun 2007 01:53:00 +0000

Recent Readers

View Entire Community Provided by MyBlogLog

I'm not techy enough for this stuff, lol. I set up a 10 user Novell DOS network for the first company I managed but this cyber stuff...I'm clueless, lol. Got this from Dorid's page...someday I'll be cool, but not today! Perhaps the cyber knowledge drains out once you've passed your twenties?

Create your own visitor map!

artists

Two maps and they both show.....drum roll please.....me! I visit my own blog! I am a narcissistic thing, aren't I? I'm really not good at this stuff, lol.

Image

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Wed, 30 May 2007 01:52:00 +0000

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Also, what do other people see and how do they perceive you as a result? Many would say that they don't judge by appearances. But the truth of it is that we all do to a degree. How many men would come running to my blog with this fine babe of a picture posted? How many women, upon seeing this face would say....ooo let's see her darling kids!

I'm not sure yet where I'm leading with this. I'm still trying to absorb the media blitz that the nudey blog created, lol. I will say that I loved all the comments, pro and con. So many were very thoughtful and full of honesty. I did expect some fringe traffic because of the content and part of my mood today is likely coming from that. Still, image is a good topic and I may expand upon it when I have more time.

Any thoughts?

The Nudey Factor

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Thu, 24 May 2007 01:50:00 +0000

Right on the heels of baring my soul with the story about my curves which are bustin' out all over, here is the story behind becoming a nudist. It is timely because this weekend I will be spending most, if not all, of the holiday weekend "memorializing and making merry" in my birthday suit. I have mentioned being a nudey but I've never set pen to paper (or sat at my computer going clickety clickety) about how a shy, curvy, accountant type like myself got acquainted with this particular pastime.

If someone had told me, before I shucked my drawers, that I would be one of the few to bare it all in public I would have had them committed. As I mentioned in my last post, I have had a long and less than stellar love/hate relationship with body image. I am the last person on the planet to say, "Oh baby, I'm hot....look at me!!" Why, in the name of all that is sane, would I want to 'let it all hang out' in broad daylight?

The chain of events in this unlikely history begins with my mother-in-law, oddly enough. Now, Marna is not like any other mother-in-law. This 5 foot and not much more, dynamo of a woman has, since the day I met her added spark to my life. She has been married 4 times, the last husband was younger than all her kids except one. The first three husbands all passed away of natural causes after she divorced them. The fact that she's outlived the first three was such a joke in the family that the last hubby refused to grant her a divorce for years claiming he would die if he did. Gordy, was a party in and of himself. Not much taller than Marna, with a thick seemingly Scottish brogue that earned him the nickname "Leprechaun" by some in the family, though he's Canadian through and through. The two of them would spend half the year in a Canadian cabin buried in snow while Gordy worked the pipeline, the other half they would enjoy the eternal vacation in California close to family.

Needless to say, it was these two eccentrics that led us to the nudey camp. They started going out to "The Camp" and brought back stories of fun times and amazingly nice people. Then my hubby's uncle and aunt jumped ship. What was going on out there? It seemed the sickness was spreading! Finally, my hubby went out. Being his mother's son, he loved it. A bit of an adjustment had to be made to go buck naked with mom around but he got past it. Meanwhile, I'm still sitting at home, grabbing another sweater and knee high socks to cover up any signs of skin.

I gave the idea due consideration and after deliberating one nanosecond decided, no bloody way I'm dropping trou with a group of strangers. I don't care how many people in my family are doing it!

But then, how long do you think you would let your hubby go to a nudist camp without you? Now, he's going with family, it's harmless. I trust him, that's never been an issue. But still....everyone's naked out there! The mind keeps working and working.

Short story long, it took me three years. The Marna contingent would go every summer and at least once a summer off my hubby would go with them. Okay, fine. I don't go on roller coasters with him, we can have separate interests. I am not taking my clothes off until I lose some of this weight...damn it. I am going to be one fine, hot momma before anyone but my husband sees me in my skivvies!

Well, about this time the nudey friends were infiltrating the family. Marna and Gordy's nudey buddies began to come to family parties. The shocking part of it... with their clothes on, those nudeys look just like us!

Finally, the last straw fell. My girlfriend Kerri went out...and loved it. She told me she had never felt so comfortable around other people in her life. She mentioned how amazingly open these people were and how you had no way to judge someone by their clothes, jewelry, standing in society, etc. when they weren't wearing anything. Good point.

Then again Kerri is a free spirit, very much like Marna. Fun loving and not at all shy, I rather expected she would love the freedom of it. The only time they use the word 'free' describing me is when I do family members taxes no charge.

One evening we were having a family get together. One of the 'nudey' friends and I were talking. She is a big girl. She is one of those boisterous women with an infectious laugh and a heart big enough to match the kickin' size of the junk in her trunk. She gets teased about the size of her booty all the time. Actually more the shape of it. If you look at her sideways there is almost a shelf there where you could set your drink. I ask her how she decided to become a nudist. She told me much the same story I was living. She had a boyfriend who started going out and she knew she'd better make her peace with it or get going. She told me she drove out to the camp and sat outside the gates for over an hour. Finally, she took the plunge and went in. She said it had been the best decision of her life. Her self esteem knew no bounds after that. The boyfriend didn't last long but now she had friends for life.

Another year goes by... tick tock.

The next summer I've had about enough of this. By now I'm just flat disgusted with myself. I'm still fat. 95% percent of the wardrobe for the lower half of my body is black. Just love that slimming black. I have no more excuses and can't face another weekend alone wondering why I'm so freaked about being naked. It's just skin. We all have the same body parts...don't we?

Friday afternoon hubby and I both get home from work. I packed... uh... sunscreen. Told him, I'm ready to go...let's go, don't ask me any questions...start the car NOW. I hate anticipation. Do it, don't think about it anymore!

Off we went. The strangest thing happened when I got there. I went in...and I loved it! The weirdest thing happens to your perception of the word 'normal.' After going in the gates, everyone I saw was naked except me. Suddenly, I stood out like a complete oddity. I quickly stripped down...just to blend in.

I have met the nicest, most non-judgmental, open, fun people. It's the best. So, the next time someone asks you to do something you think you will NEVER do...just remember, you may be missing the time of your life.

The Story Behind the Legs

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 22 May 2007 01:47:00 +0000

Sex appeal, who has it and who doesn’t, I suppose that’s the main topic of the legs story. Or this could be a discussion about beauty being in the eye of the beholder, either way I promised an explanation about the legs and by now my brother is avoiding my page because the legs representing his sister is giving him the willies so I’d better get on with it.

I’ve always battled my weight and issues arising from being overweight. I was a normal, active, skinny child so the weight issue came along with puberty and all the other insecurities that crop up at that age. My self loathing and insecurities about my weight knew no end for a good long while until my inherent belief in my self worth kicked in. About this time, I realized I was reasonably smart and could pretty much accomplish anything I wanted if I set my mind to the task. Still, there were times when being thin would have saved me from some awful treatment by the dim witted majority known as teenage boys. Even into my twenties, I would shy away from groups of men in social settings. One man, all alone, can be trusted to act like a gentleman but get a group of immature guys together and you have a recipe for striking terror in the heart of the ‘fat chick’ who is certain to be the target.

To make matters worse, I live in Southern California, the home of Hollywood as well as more plastic surgeons and diet centers than anywhere else in the world. The women around here are like the cars I see on the freeway. Sparkling SUV’s with the upgraded sports package out rank old beater Datsuns by at least 10 to 1. If you don’t have a full rack up front and minimal junk in the trunk you are just not going to make it around here. They say you shouldn’t read fashion magazines if you want to keep your self esteem intact. Around here those waif model types are walking around freely, no need to buy a magazine to feel like you need a head-to-toe black burka to appear in public.

So, getting back to the main point of this dissertation, I made my peace with my kickin’ hips and curvy form a while ago. I grew a thicker skin and worked on my charm and twisted sense of humor. We all have something special about us…and for most of us it’s not the shape of our ass. It took me a while to figure it out, but it’s all good, I learned. So, at about the time I decided “To hell with looks, I can be all that and the bag of chips anyway,” I found out that there is this alternative counter culture of men who like a little meat on their women. No, scratch that, they like a woman who is just bustin’ out all over and then some.

Now, I’ve been married since I was about 2 so I'm late to finding out about all this. The first time a man hit on me and made it clear that the Plus Size package was his preference, I was completely floored. “What? You’re kidding right?” I’m just sure that the first thing this guy is going to want (after getting into my queen size pants) is to see if there’s any hope that I’ll go on a diet. But, lo and behold, it seems there is a whole culture of men and women on this crazy planet of ours that are not only okay with being Goddess stature but prefer it over those boney women we’re all envying around here.

My girlfriend, Frenchie Pooh is one of those model types. She is lythe and winsome, tall and statuesque. Recently, she went to a gym in LA that had a more rounded ethnicity than we get down here in the glaringly white OC. At this gym the women who were getting all the attention were the ones with the full package, Amazonian curves pushing the limits of their spandex. Frenchie was floored, she couldn't get the time of day. I'm still having a hard time believing her, usually I'm completely invisible standing next to her.

All this came up when Alli Pie and I got on the topic of Goddess potential, so there you have it. It seems that whether you’ve got the legs to fill size 2 stockings or are on the other end of the spectrum, there is likely someone out there in this nutty world looking for you. Yet one more reason for me to stop feeling like I need to blend into the woodwork, lol.

BBW and proud of it? Not yet, but I'm learning!

It's all about me.

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sat, 19 May 2007 01:45:00 +0000

Height: 5’ 9”, tall for a girl but not as tall as two of my best friends!
Name: Kassy
Right or Left-handed: Lefty and proud of it.
Heritage: Swedish and German
How do you alleviate stress? Kiss those chubby toddler cheeks...mmm.
Do you swear: Used to swear like a dock worker. My first CPA firm cured part of it, then motherhood took the rest. (big sigh for my inner rebel)
If you could have any job, what would it be? Teacher
What are your favorite sports to watch: Gymnastics
What was your first car? Two tone blue Thunderbird, awesome!
Do you like thunderstorms? Yes, bigger and louder the better.
Is the glass half empty, or half full: Only plastic cups survive in my house.
Best places you have ever been: Florence, Italy
Favorite Food: Sushi
Least Favorite Food: Bran Muffin (shudders)
What type of music do you dislike most: Kids music that treats your child like they're stupid...ya know the kind, sappy, drippy, sugary.
Do you take illegal drugs? Not after that one time on ...shrooms, whoops.
Do you believe in love at first sight? Lust for sure, love takes time.
Are you a risk taker: With proper insurance and a backup parachute.
What do you think about most? What am I doing, what still needs to be done, why haven't I done it yet, when will I have time to do it.
Ever cheated on a b/f or g/f? Be honest: Still with the first one, I'd be to paranoid to cheat.
Have you ever been in jail? No, I'm usually the one they call for bail.
Birthday: April 5
Hugs or kisses: Both.
Favorite thing to do? Snuggle in bed.
What is your bedtime? Depends, either I fall asleep putting the boy to bed or I get back up and get a second wind.
Boxers, Briefs or Boxerbriefs : Nudists don't care, it's all textile.
Piercings/tattoos? Just the ears, no tats, not Gen X or Y.
Place of Residence: The OC
I have a low tolerance for people who: Are critical and unforgiving. I'm too fallible for that.
Do you sleep with the TV on? Nope, the boy would stay up forever!
Can you handle the truth? Yes, I'm a realist.
Hair color? Blonde enough.
Marital status: Married.
Will you have sex w/ any pretty little thing or does it actually mean something? Gawd, my life is too boring for this question.
Friend you've had the longest? Sally, sorry Frenchie but she was first.
Early bird or night owl: Night owl, Wouldn't fit in my family otherwise.
Best advice you’ve ever received? It doesn't matter what someone else would do or why, when you are ready, you will do it.
Favorite quote: "Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity."
Favorite type of music: Blues
Biggest Weakness? Ice Cream and Praise
Are you close to your parents? Yes, both
Any brothers, or sisters. Yes, 2 brothers and a seeeester!
Have a religion: Hm, raised non-practising Protestant, threw in some Buddhism, Indian gurus, 60's style wisdom, a few self help philosophies for good measure, and a new age theory or two. Then in my teens Dad fell in love with my Catholic step mom and we became Episcopal to split the difference. If Henry VIII could do it, why not Dad? Needless to say, I gave the priest a run for his money during my confirmation classes. Not sure who was more confused. I'm none of the above these days. Perhaps one day, when I'm in the mood, I'll enlighten those who have an interest. I gave up swaying the masses years ago.
Views on politics: I try to stay informed and be concerned in my free time which is entirely taken. I see politics like jury duty, it is important and serves the greater good but if I can write a good letter to get out of it I will. I have work to do and a child who needs me. I am, however, very concerned about the environment and if Bush succeeds in cutting into the Alaskan reserve for the oil his supporters are after then he deserves a place in the worst hell the Catholics can dream up.
Worst habits: Taking on too much and thinking I can do it all.
What’s the one thing you’d like to do but haven’t done yet? Be successful in my own business to the point where I have time to travel.
Where do you picture yourself in five years? At peace and enjoying life.
Do you like to try new things? Yes, take a deep breath and know it will be fun or at least I'll learn something.
Are you laid back or high strung: Very laid back
Is family important to you? Yes, very
Are you optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic unless it interferes with my practicality.
Are you a procrastinator? Yes , it's why I'm so busy, lol.
Favorite pastime? By myself, reading. Otherwise, being with family.
Longest Relationship? 20 years!
Biggest Mistake? I try to think of them as lessons and I'm ALWAYS learning, lol.
Craziest Thing you’ve ever done? Go to a nudist camp...and like it!
Like to Party? Yes, if it doesn't interfere with my sleep.
Drink a lot (of Alcohol): Nope. Two drinks and I'm horny, three and I'm asleep.
Set your own path, or follow the crowd? Set my own path.
Like kids? Love kids, adore my own ridiculously.

For the Mom's

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sun, 13 May 2007 01:39:00 +0000

I'm not the poetic type, I've mentioned this before. Oh sure, there are times when I appreciate the poetic form of communication, it serves to inspire and bring beauty to our lives. However, I'm not one for concerning myself with 'to rhyme or not to rhyme' in my own efforts to share.
So, on this day before a rather useless holiday which holds a lovely sentiment at it's heart, I thought I'd share a poem that was sent to me. For all the moms, I hope you receive what I've asked for as a gift tomorrow... free time. It's my wish that you are not dragged by your grumpy spouse and bored kids to an overcrowded, expensive restaurant and served semi-warm food by an overwhelmed staff. Too close to my usual morning routine at home for my taste.
I wish for every mother to know that what she does is infinitely valuable and appreciated. That your efforts do not go unnoticed and are priceless beyond your comprehension. GO get your hair cut, spend too much time at the local Beauty Supply, buy some fragrant lotion you don't need. Get a pedicure, buy a girly magazine. You know, the kind with fashionable clothes you'd never buy because they won't look good with toothpaste handprints on the hips and spit-up on the lapel. The kind with incredible sex tips that would require you to soundproof your bedroom walls.

So, without further preamble...

Mean Moms Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a parent, I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me:

I loved you enough . . . to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.

But most of all, I loved you enough . . . to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all.

I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won, too. And someday when your children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates parents, you will tell them.

Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother in the whole world!

While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.

When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.

And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.

Mom insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison.

She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work.

We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.

I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in the back of her head.

Then, life was really tough!

Mom wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced.

None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault.

Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom was.

Happy Mother's Day

The Learning Curve

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Fri, 11 May 2007 01:37:00 +0000

In every new endeavor you have a learning curve at the beginning. What you want to accomplish takes longer because you are learning as you go. The process is slowed by lack of practical knowledge and limited skill. I’ve learned this the hard way this week and my little Jakester has paid the price.
After the jaw wiring along with the hospital and doctor visits, we were finally able to be at home to relax and let Jake start the healing process. Round one, “No, Mommy, I don’t want the medicine!” Calling the doctor, Shawn found that the pain should be subsiding at about a week. I gave the decision over to Jake. You want the medicine or not, your choice. Once or twice he took it, but most of the time he turned it down. As long as he’s sleeping through the night, I’m not pushing the drugs. I don’t take them myself, why be ‘mommy, the drug pusher’ if it’s not necessary?
Round two, the liquid diet. Oh, strike fear into the hearts of all who love to eat. Jake is not a picky eater, he loves to eat and is very active…pan back to 3 accidents in 3 years… yeap, very active. So, he eats well and still maintains his svelte figure. If only I had a bod like that. I suppose I did once…long, long, long ago. (Big sigh.) Eh well, I’m over it. For the first couple days all I wanted was to please my little man, put a smile on his wired grill. “Chocolate milk and chocolate shakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Of course sweetie, anything you want.” I’ll admit, it wasn’t my best choice but he was smiling again, life was good!
At about this point I’m realizing that a child can’t live on chocolate milk alone. I whipped up a mean puréed vegetable soup and Shawn dazzled us with several fruit smoothies. Jake was less than thrilled, but he slurped down enough to get us out of the line of sight of the Disney Channel.
Day three of the liquid diet extravaganza dawns and all hell breaks loose…or rather comes to a screeching halt. After several days of meds and a less than stellar diet my little guy was completely constipated. Now what? I’m no dietician but I know I’m doing something wrong. Back to the drawing board. Now we’ve added prune juice to every smoothie along with fiber. Replaced the milk with Ensure shakes and soymilk. At this point, I’m sure I’ve lost some weight myself. I seem to be on a liquid diet too. Everything Jake doesn’t like or doesn’t finish, guess who gets that? By now, I’m feeling pretty ‘regular’ myself.
Cod liver oil, glycerin suppositories, Phillips Milk of Magnesia…tried them all. The Phillips was the last resort yesterday, watch out for that stuff, I’m tellin’ ya right now.
After a week off, my husband and I had to return to work. Now each morning I am training a different Grandma, Uncle, or Aunt how to do “The Diet.” Every one of them has been on “Poop Patrol.” You really know your family loves you if they’re willing to sit on your dirty bathroom floor and entertain your 3 year-old while he tries to do the deed. Yesterday, Grandma Susie, Uncle Mike and Aunt Kat were all in attendance in my little closet of a bathroom whilst the little guy grunted. It’s unbelievable how one little event can take on such meaning.
Today, life is good again. The little man is on his way to healing, on his way to being ‘regular’ and I’m optimistic that whatever comprises “Round Three,” we’ll be ready.

The Saga

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Tue, 08 May 2007 01:35:00 +0000

I have to say I’m totally floored by the stoic nature of my little three-year old. When I first saw him after the accident, lying semi-comatose in my sister-in-law’s lap, I just about fainted. His eyes were clouded with pain, he could barely stay conscious and his lower jaw was alarmingly askew. We rushed to the hospital where he proceeded to pitch his breakfast into my lap. Watching a child retch with a broken jaw is not something I need to see again. After a 6 hour stint in the ER, complete with a wild ride down the halls of the hospital to the outpatient CAT scan (better equipped for children apparently) and back, we were taken by ambulance to the other hospital in the area because it is a children’s hospital. If I had known I would have chosen that hospital in the first place….eh well, live and learn.
They kept us overnight mainly for safety reasons, nothing to do with the fracture. They just wanted to make sure he stopped throwing up and could keep some water down. Amazing what shock will do to a toddler’s system. Through it all my little guy would patiently raise his shirt every time a doctor came near him with a stethoscope. Everyone was astonished. I’m not taking any credit, from what I’ve heard children are either born to patiently endure or make a big scene, no idea which one until they come out. He stayed in my arms for two solid days though. Thank goodness for my hubby, who took the brunt of all the work, shuffling cars back home, clothes to the hospital, food to the house, you name it.
After we were released from the hospital we were headed right back the next day for the jaw wiring procedure. I was so not looking forward to putting my Jakester through another round of needles and tubes. After the pre-op prep, hooking him up to all the wires and monitors I was a wreck. I’m usually calm under pressure, know the details and am fine but I was dreading it. The surgeon took one look at me and said, “Folks, lets keep this in perspective… he’s going to be just fine.”
The minute our little guy woke up the difference was astounding. He was hungry, he was thirsty, and his clear blue eyes scanned the room with wolf-like focus for what he had been promised… “Where’s my ice cream?!?”
Upon seeing a glass of water and juice propped on the bed, he about launched himself, tubes, wires and all out of my lap. “I want water, I want juice! Here, let me show you what I want!!”
Shawn and I started laughing so hard, all the while trying to slowly give our son what he wanted. He was still coming down from the anesthesia. The last thing we needed was to re-live the retching all over again. But is felt so good to see our son return to his normal outspoken self!
Now, the liquid diet is a whole other story, but life is good. My boy is back.

Shocking Real Life Intrudes

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Wed, 02 May 2007 01:34:00 +0000

Hello to all my wonderful friends and family,

I'm breaking in on the fun to let you know my son had an accident and broke his jaw yesterday.

We spent the night at the hospital and are finally home. He was such a brave boy, I'm so proud of him. We will be back to the hospital tomorrow to align his jaw. Thanks in advance for keeping us in your prayers and sending any good, positive healing thoughts our way.

Hugs and Kisses,

Jakester's Mom

Yentl and the House of Mouse

noreply@blogger.com (Cali Mom) — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 01:32:00 +0000

On the big day, the divine day to Disney, we awoke to a very happy boy. Lying between my hubby and I, Jake babbled on and on about the day to come. His clothes were set on the bed in hopes that the excited 3 year old might be coaxed out of jammies and into Disney appropriate attire at some point following morning snuggle time.
Jake spotted his Batman underwear and pulled them over his head, his cherubic face popping out a leg hole. And as he looked up to see us laughing, I had the image from the final scene in “Yentl” of Barbra Streisand wrapped in a shawl on the boat to America flash before my eyes. I chimed in, “Oh look honey, it’s Yentl.” Without a pause in conversation Jake starts jumping on the bed shouting, “It’s the Yentl, it’s the Yentl,” thinking it was some monster. What a way to start the day.
All in all, Disneyland was a fun day. The weather was a gorgeously sunny California day. There were crowds but not terribly so. Every time we went on a ride that was dark inside Jake would hold my hand and whisper, “Mommy, I don’t like this ride.” Only to say as we’re leaving it, “That was sooooo cool!”
We visited the Horseshoe Saloon and watched 4 brothers play the fiddle, bass, and guitar. It was an awesome, comedic, song wielding performance. The best part was when they played each others instruments at the same time. A definite must for anyone into live entertainment.
Then we went to Toon Town, a newer addition to the Disney repertoire. You get dragged into Mickey's house for a picture with the mouse himself, which Jake just loved. Then to top it off, we saw Goofy shaking hands outside. They had just cut off people from getting in line. Jake was so dejected until he waved to Goofy as we passed by and the big dawg waved back. (Goofy is a dog, isn't he? I will never figure out why Goofy talks and walks on two feet but Pluto just barks.)
We stayed until the parade, which is always at the end of the day and travels down Main Street. Jake played with a little girl who was in the stroller next to him. Clapping their hands together and yelling “Superman!” Don’t ask, I have no idea where some 3 year old ideas come from.
The next day it rained and we all took turns sleeping in and napping. It was the perfect finale after all that walking.
And yes, Dale, we got mouse ears for Jake...I'll have to owe you a pair.