Gettin' By

Around here lately...

he:

-is learning all about gourmet gecko diets -  all while trying to keep the crickets & mealworms far, far away from his squeamish mama.

-can play an incredibly beautiful rendition of Musette on his trumpet.

-is often seen sporting stylish fedoras and most recently a newsboy cap, thanks to gifts from his Uncle Ben.

-had us cracking up over the Bad Lip Reading channel and this NFL clip. "Orange Peanut? I accept you!"

she:

-has become my little kitchen apprentice, doing everything from chopping to measuring to polishing copper. Now I just have to convince her that ironing is fun and I'll be home free.

-grudglingly practices her math flash cards before bed each night.

-is currently writing a story about two second-grade girls named Jenna & Kaley that largely focuses on what they wear to school each day.

-loves showing us all the new moves she learns at her hip hop dance class (and delighting in the fact that she's the only Dickinson with any sense of rhythm.)

he:

-is on a mission to get fit for our spring break trip to Mexico and has been doing P90X every night. Which is slightly different from my regimine of consuming margaritas and tacos.

-is headed to D.C. for a few days to hang with some lobbyists in his stylin' new suit, where he's sure to win friends and influence people. Or at least look hot doing it.

-has decided that it's more calorie-conscious to sip whiskey rather than drink beer.

she:

-thinks that whiskey smells a lot like kerosene. And calories be damned, still loves beer.

-has resolved to snap more photos with her DSLR this month, after the realization that no photos makes scrapbooking very difficult.

-is almost finished with her December Daily album. Alert the folks at Guinness!

 

And what's up with you these days?

In case you're wondering what an elephant with gas sounds like.

Someone recently started the adventure that is Sixth Grade Band, and has been filling our house with the unmistakable sounds of trumpet practice:

 

Or as we like to call it, Sounds of Gassy Elephants in the Wild. And while it may confuse and confound the dog, my dream of one day forming the Dickinson Family Mariachi Band is now 25% complete.

Enjoy the Monday, folks!

I bet Prince Harry takes naps, too.

I had truly intended to get up early, compose a riveting blog post, and astound you all with my Monday morning wit and humor.  But here it already 8:30 and I'm still on my first cup of coffee, wiping sleep from my eyes, and attempting to get the day rolling. This is due in large part to a Sunday night engagement with this handsome guy:

Last night we attended a fundraiser for Tennyson Center (an event Mike's company sponsors) which meant an excuse to get dressed up, enjoy a nice dinner & adult beverages and raise some money for an incredibly worthy cause.  And of course we bribed Hayden into documenting it all with photos...

...and provide photographic proof as to why my modeling career never really got off the ground:

Of course, being the total party animals we are, we stayed out UNTIL ALMOST 10:30. On a Sunday night. Because we have a rock-n-roll lifestyle to maintain, y'all. Which means my 5:30 am alarm was largely ignored and repeatedly snoozed until the last possible minute when I had to drag my sorry butt out of bed.

So my post is a bit late. But I got the breakfast made, lunches packed, and the kids off to school.  I've consumed my coffee and am attempting to talk myself into a workout. And I will quite likely be sneaking in a nap later this afternoon. Living la vida loca, folks!

Happy Monday!

 

 

Signs I Might Be Getting Old.

1.  I've spent a week scouring Pinterest for the perfect breakfast casserole recipe to serve at an upcoming family gathering. I'm pretty sure that young, hip people spend time selecting the perfect Italian prosecco or asparagus souffle to serve with their brunch, not weighing the merits of bacon vs. sausage in their baked egg dishes. {Ohhhhhhh bacon.}

2. I may have referred to my purse as a pocketbook yesterday.

3. In less than a week, I will be the parent of a middle schooler. Today H has invited several of his friends over for one last celebration of summer, during which I will insist they play with Thomas the Train, dine on a lunch of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and listen to Laurie Berkner cds. Deny, deny, deny!

4. While contemplating the correct grammar for the title of this post, I got caught up in perusing Wikipedia for the definition of split infinitive, which led to more research on dangling participles, and effectively wasted an entire hour this morning.

5. A recent diagnosis of a herniated disc in my lower back has me hobbling around the house like a crotchety grandmother, despite my highly scientific ibuprofen-doping procedures and absolute refusal to accept that I'm old enough to have any ailment involving the word "herniated." All I need now is a cane to raise in the air and shake at the neighborhood kids while I yell "Get off my lawn you no-good hooligans!" and I will officially have achieved senior citizen status.

So that lovely shade of silvery blue I'm sporting on my toenails?? I'm thinking it might be a more appropriate color for my hair. I'll have to contemplate the change over my prune juice this morning.

 

How to Raise Smart & Resourceful Kids. Or Mountain Goats.

A few weeks ago, we began a landscaping project on our backyard. Though "began" is a bit misleading. Saying "we hired someone to come in and finish a job we started five years ago but were too unmotivated to finish" would be much more accurate, but then you might get the impression that we are lazy and would rather spend our summers drinking beer on the patio than planting trees and laying sod. Which would be true.

Somewhere in the design process of this job, the topic of whether or not to install a playground area arose. Since we live within walking distance to several parks, we didn't think it was critical. Then our landscaper showed us several projects where they created more natural "playgrounds" for children using large boulders, dirt, and plantings. And when the kids inevitably outgrow the need for a play area, you're left with a beautiful landscape rather than a trip to the dump to relocate a broken-down swingset.

So it was decided: No playground, just hardscape. And Mike and I were relieved that our marriage had somehow dodged the bullet known as Assembling Play Equipment With Your Spouse.

And the kids reaction? Well, let's just say over the last 10 days that these giant boulders (120-tons of them, to be exact!) have started popping up in our backyard, there is rarely a night the kids aren't happily scrambling all over them. They climb, jump, hide and seek, have Nerf gun wars, and stage time trials around the giant obstacle course. We may pay for it in trips to the ER, but these kids are going to be Everest-ready in no time!

The other night after dinner they were frolicking in the rocks while a summer storm was brewing, stirring up mini dust storms in the expanses of exposed dirt. Not wanting to cut their playtime short due to weather, they resourcefully donned ski goggles to protect their eyes and went about their shennanigans.

Who needs a swingset when you've got a view like this?

Even Daddy got in on the moutain-climbing action.

And why were they wearing ski hats and scarves on a 90-degree summer evening? Um, I opted not to ask. After all, they were willingly posing for photos and inadvertedly providing me with lots of new material for scrapbook pages, so I skipped any opportunity to question their fashion choices. This "smart and resourceful" thing? It's gotta be genetic.

He married me for my sarcastic wit, after all.

Recently overheard at our house:

MIKE: Hey babe, you need to be careful not to use profanity in your emails to me at work. One of them got flagged by the guys in IT because it contained the word bitch.

ME: Bitch? They'll flag an email for that? Are you kidding me?!

MIKE: No, really. They frown on all curse words.

ME: So I guess the email I just sent accusing you of being a selfish m@+?®! f#¢*&® for not replacing the g^!@#&d toilet paper roll this morning is really gonna send them into a tizzy, huh?

Have a happy %$!#@) Wednesday!

In summary.

The kids spent Memorial Day weekend in the mountains with their grandparents: biking, horseback riding, cattle rustling, parade watching, golfing and generally getting spoiled. Mike and I enjoyed the long holiday in Southern California for an adults-only weekend to celebrate the wedding of a college friend. These photobooth strips from the wedding pretty much sum up our adventures:

And now we are all back home attempting to get into the swing of a summer routine. Which may or may not include unpacking, laundry and mega-doses of allergy meds. Because nothing makes laundry more fun than being doped up on Sudafed.

Enjoy your Thursday, people!

Road Trip.

This past weekend we loaded the whole family in the car and took a little drive to the mountains to visit some VIP mamas in our life.

(Despite her insistance that she should ride in back to read to Shinerbock, Riely was later relocated to her booster seat.)

We stopped up in Grand Lake to see Grandma D:

Nothing like a little post-dinner hula dance!

Then we made a stop at Nana's and tortured the kids by making them take photos in bright, bright sunlight.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH.....My retinas are burning!"

And then Mike caught my reaction on camera to the news that there would be no wine involved our Mother's Day celebration:

Just kidding!

Hope your weekend (and Mother's Day!) was equally delightful!

Weekend Summary: No Pants. No Margaritas.

And if that blog title doesn't increase hits, I just don't know what will.

Our weekend wasn't lacking in the celebration department. With three birthday parties, two family gatherings, two BBQs, National Scrapbook Day, and of course, Cinco de Mayo, how could it be? Sadly, none of these events involved margaritas.  

(Those of you that know me well are saying WHA?!?!?  I know, I know. As your Queen of Gratuitous Imbibement, I've let you down)

But it did involve wishing a very cute pantless nephew happy birthday:

Apparently when you're three, it's totally your perogative to celebrate the big day by refusing to don pants. And scowl at your Aunt Pete for taking photographic proof.

But a birthday cake and crazy relatives singing off-key can always improve your mood:

And just so you know, tonight (after our last volleyball game of the season) I'll be heading out for margaritas with the girls. I've got a reputation to uphold, after all.

They call this one The Flirt.

Last Saturday, Riely went to a friend's birthday party where one of the party favors included a variety of self-adhesive mustaches. Who knew that a sticky little piece of faux fur would lead to hours of posing fun? The particular style she's modeling here is named The Flirt. On a grown man, I think this flesh toned, pencil-thin version just might be a tad bit creepy, but I have to admit it is pretty darn cute on this sweet little face:

This may be the only time in her life that a fuzzy upper lip doesn't send her running to the depilatory aisle at Walgreens. Enjoy the moment, little girl!

Hope your Tuesday is is filled with funny flirtations! (And hey - HAPPY MAY!)