Camera on the Run

During Easter lunch, a certain young boy absconded with my camera - here's what I found when I uploaded the photos:

Oh, that's sweet....

But oh dear, what's going on here....

Holy Mother of all that is good and right, what is that - amass all the villagers and tell them to bring their pitchforks!

She is just the epitome of sweetness and light, isn't she? So demure, so ladylike

Ahhh, and there's our camera-stealing culprit

Yummy

My Jared, he makes some yummy, yummy orange rolls. He learned it from his mother, and I will be eternally grateful to his mother for it. They're beyond yummy.

He puts a yummy, orangey sugary mixture in them.

The only bad part is that there ends up being bowls of rising dough and pans and pans of rolls all over my kitchen...

...and my floors look like this

But people, it's worth it. Trust me. Me love orange rolls.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

This is pretty much what my hair looks like every morning

Poor Ellie has inherited it. The true beauty you can't see - it's in the back, and little hummingbirds try to nest in it every morning.

Every time we get her hair cut, the stylist pulls out the industrial sized bottle of detangler. Poor girl. It reminds me of the first time I saw my current stylist - she stood back, looking perplexed - I asked her what the problem was, and she replied "hmmm.....I just don't know whether I should recommend to you the products for damaged hair or the products for thinning hair!"

Easter Fun

So the Easter Bunny came early on Easter morning. Or rather, our kids came downstairs early, in anticipation of the aforementioned Bunny. That's ok, though, because we got them in bed early the night before since the Easter Bunny watches through his magic egg to make sure kids have gone to bed. Yeah, I made that up on the fly. Totally worked, so I'm fine with the lies.

Another reason I had to make stuff up was that I found that I'm totally ignorant of the Easter Bunny mythology. The kids kept asking questions - how does he get into the house, how big is he, can he talk, where does he live, and I was like, uh, duh? So after days of "uh, duh"s I finally had to start making stuff up. Seemed to work, but if my kids tell your kids kinda wacky Easter stuff, well, just go with it please.

Yeah, Ellie's real thrilled with the picture taking - how can you tell?

The traditional pre-egg hunt picture at John & Remi's house. As usual, they had a very yummy meal too.

When we opened the door to let the kids out, it was like Lord of the Flies as the kids trampled over each other. You'd think there was gold bouillon inside those dang plastic eggs.

See that little kid in the pink vest? He was so cute - he just strolled around, picking up the occasional egg, and then gazing in wonderment at the pretty colors. "Look! it's purple! Pitty purple egg!"

In the end, everyone was satisfied with their Easter booty - and thankfully for me, the kids have since forgotten just exactly how much candy is in their basket - and how much is ending up in Mommy's tummy

No sombrero for you!

So, at least once a week one of the kids gives me all the details on what kind of party they want for their next birthday. Not sure why it's such an obsession - I think it's part of Jack's larger obsession with how old everyone is - he always wants to know how old someone is, so he can better chart his placement in the grand scheme of things - I'm younger than Garrett, Michael, and Matthew, I'm older than Gracie, Annabelle, and Ryan, etc etc.

So Ellie's party ideas usually involve Chuck E. Cheese and people giving her lots of things. Jack's? Well, here's his latest one - a Mexican party.

(While driving home from swim lessons...)

Jack: "For my next birthday party, I want to have a Mexican party!"

Mom: "Really?"

Jack: "Yeah! When everyone walks in, I'll say "hola, como estas!" and we'll have a pinata and queso dip and then if everyone is good, at the end they get a sombrero"

Ellie: "Right, but they have to be hay"

Jack" "What?"

Ellie: "They have to be hay"

Jack: "What?"

Lydia: "She's saying they have to behave - they have to be good"

Ellie: "Yeah, and if they poo or pee or spit or toot or fart, they don't get a sombrero"

Jack: "Well, that's ok if they say 'excuse me'"

Ellie: "Right, but if they toot or fart and don't say 'excuse me'"

Jack: "That's right"

Ellie: "But they do get a goody bag"

Jack: "No, no goody bag - if they don't behave, no goody bag and no sombrero - that's the bad and sad part of their mean behavior"

Ellie: "Ohhhhhh"

So watch out people, or no sombrero for you!

App Crack

So clearly my "crack" of choice is Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs. And I've now just discovered Ellie's crack - the iPad. We got ours just a few days ago - remember, I bought my brother's iPad1 and he upgraded. So we got ours a few days ago, but I hid it for a while waiting for the right time (meaning, when they were driving me bonkers). So I was trying to do a telecon the other day, and Ellie kept chatting me up. So...I pulled out the iPad. They're very user-friendly, so I didn't even have to explain things to her - I just handed it to her, and voila, she was mesmerized for the rest of my telecon. And since then, she's wanted to use it pretty much every waking hour. And every time I turn around she's asking, "hey Mom, did you download any apps for me?" She's full-on addicted, my friends - which SHOULD trouble me, but instead it delights me immensely, since I have finally found a way to bribe/threaten/persuade my previously untouchable child. My friends, I have discovered her crack. Let choirs of angels sing.

Oh, sure, she may not look crack-addicted - but just try taking that iPad away from her and watch her hands shake.

P.S. - Yes, I know this is a temporary thing, as she will grow tired of the existing apps. Which means you all must recommend to me new apps, so that I can get more time out of this addiction.

P.P.S. - Notice that rub-on tattoo on her arm? So we had dinner with my mom the other day, and my mom HATES HATES HATES tattoos. So she sees Ellie's children's rub-on tattoo of an Easter egg, and yes, even hates that. So she casually tries to talk to Ellie about how tattoos are yucky - but Ellie takes her straight on, talking about how she LOVES LOVES LOVES tattoos, and they're her favorite thing ("they REALLY are, Grandmom!"), and that she can't wait to get a real one - all while my poor mom is sputtering and shaking with fear and dismay over the downfall of her wee little granddaughter. I tell you, sometimes that Ellie is just awesome.

Bob. James Bob.

Happy Birthday to my big brother Frank. If you're ever in North Carolina, definitely look up Frank, because trust me, he's the kind of guy you want to hang out with. If the sombrero alone doesn't convince you, let me tell you a little bit about Frank:

(1) He literally has an encyclopedic knowledge of everything - in that he has read through an entire set of encyclopedias. More than once.
(2) He is also a movie connoisseur. He knows everything there is to know about old movies, so if you're ever stumped in that pink pie wedge in Trivial Pursuit? He's your man. Unless it's about an R-rated movie - then you'd better call me.
(3) Just call him Bob. James Bob. Because when we were kids he ran a super-secret-spy school called the James Bob School of Spying. Not James Bond. Trademark issues. But he would teach us his stealthy techniques, then have us try to sneak downstairs after bedtime. I rarely succeeded. He often succeeded. Because he is James Bob.
(4) I am still mad at him because back when I was in college, I called my car-having big brother to give me a ride to the video store, as I had to rent a video for a class the next day. And he told me no. Because he was about to put some Banquet Extra Crispy Fried Chicken in the oven. I'm not sure what annoyed me more - that he wouldn't give me a ride, that he had a car and I didn't, or that he (instead of just saying "dinner" or "chicken") repeatedly kept referring to his Banquet Extra Crispy Fried Chicken. Yes, I am still mad about it.
(5) He is 6 ft. 3 and weighs the same as I do. Damn. Him.
(6) He is crazy flexible - if you ever want a little entertainment, have him put his legs behind his head. It's freaky, but in a fun way.
(7) He was the leader of not one but two different boy bands in his teens. Boy bands that played in his bedroom and charged us all 25 cents to attend. The Lay-Ups and the Dynomites. They were both very groovy.

So next time you see him, pop open a couple of Orange Crushes, have him cook up some Banquet Extra Crispy Fried Chicken, and ask him to sing you one of the Lay-Up's greatest hits. That's what we call a party, people. And that's how our Frank rolls.

Happy birthday, Frank!

Wonder Twin Powers Activate!

Nowadays, pretty much every time we go out, someone asks if Jack and Ellie are twins. It's not surprising - they're only about a year apart, and size-wise only a couple inches apart (and decreasing, as Ellie is poised to catch up with poor widdle Jack pretty soon). Add to it the fact that they like to match their clothes, and bingo, you've got two twin-looking kids. We've now taken to referring to them as either Thing 1 and Thing 2 or the Wonder Twins.

Wonder Twin powers activate!

Anyone out there old enough to remember the Wonder Twins from Super Friends? If not, get thee to a YouTube or a Netflix and check it out! The Wonder Twins are Zan and Jayna, two, well, twins, I think from a different planet. Anyway, they were superheroes, and had kinda lame transformation powers. Zan I think could change into water and weather-related stuff. In order to get around, he would transform himself into water, throw himself into a bucket of water, and his pet monkey would carry the bucket around. Go with it, it worked. And Jayna could transform into animals. I can't quite remember how turning into water and a jaguar would conquer evil-doers, but that's not really the point. They were cool twins with matching leotards and super powers.

Now, my little Wonder Twins may not be able to transform, but they have other super powers.

The power to change time: Somehow, they're able to make one day feel like it's a week.
The power to change biology: They also have the power to modify their sleeping patterns so that they wake up at strategic points throughout the night to ensure that I don't get any actual R.E.M. sleep.
The power to expand matter: Just like with the loaves and fishes, my wonder twins are able to expand the smallest item to become the biggest spot/smear/puddle/stain you could imagine. Give them one chocolate chip, and they can make a 4-foot stain on the couch. Give them one glitter pen, and they can decorate the whole wall.
The power to multiply: I haven't figured it out yet, but somehow they're able to multiply themselves, so that at the same time Ellie is dumping flour on the ground, Jack is climbing up the pantry shelves, Ellie is grabbing my iPhone out of my purse, and Jack is setting a small brush fire in the living room.

I haven't quite figured out how to harness their powers for good, but I'm working on some schematics now. My plan definitely involves matching leotards, stylin' 60s haircuts, and groovy catch phrases. I still need to work in the pet monkey with the bucket.

My little Wonder Twins


I include this photo because it just looks so Frat-Party-Drunk-Kids to me - that should frighten me about my children, but actually I think it's kinda funny


By the way, if you are familiar with the Wonder Twins, here are a couple funny videos:
Wonder Twins:
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1758238/aots_wonder_twins/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdZ4JgGm2p4

Junkie

Last month, I decided to get an early start on Easter, and bought a bunch of stuff for the kids' baskets. I made the mistake of getting one of my favorite Easter treats - Reese's Peanut Butter eggs. Oh, people. Oh, my. Let's just say that those eggs never made it into the basket. They did, however, make it into my tummy and subsequently into my thunderous thighs. End of story. Except, it's never the end of the story for junkies. Because they just can't stop. I, I mean they, just can't stop.

So yesterday I wanted to finish up the baskets and lock them away in the guest room and not have to worry about getting ready for Easter. So I made a final trip to the store, got all the kids' stuff, and couldn't resist getting the crack, I mean Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, again. But this time was different, said the junkie ho. This time I bought a 6-pack of eggs - one for each of the kids' baskets, and still 4 for me to gorge on. And thus I did. End of story. Except, it's never the end of the story for junkies. Because then those 2 eggs kept calling to me from the kids' baskets.

Calling to me.

Calling to me.

We're so yummy.

We're so fluffy and peanut buttery and chocolatey and delicious.

Come get us, Lydia.

Your kids will never know.

They'd never appreciate us anyway. They eat Fruit Loops, for crap sake, how could they appreciate the finesse of a Reese's Peanut Butter Egg?

You owe it to us to come eat us. You owe it to humanity.

They said all of those things to me, people. Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs are not just delicious, they're also very articulate and quite persuasive.

And so I ate them.

I stole candy from little kids' Easter baskets.

And oh the carnage.

Oh the destruction.

Oh the sweat pants that I will have to wear tomorrow.

I am a Reese's Peanut Butter Egg Junkie Ho.

It's a Burden Being Such an Amazing Parent

It really is. I mean, it's so hard being such a role model, such a parenting icon. So much pressure, people, knowing that you all look up to me, that you all watch my every move and say, I'm going to do that, because if Lydia's doing it, it must be the right thing to do. But alas, it is the burden I must carry, being such an amazing parent.

Like when Jared went out of town yesterday, and I did all the amazing parent things that one must do in that situation. Like-

(1) feed the kids McDonald's for dinner - I mean, I managed to feed my kids junky food, waste money, AND eat food I shouldn't be eating all in one, quicky and easy jaunt through the drive-thru.

(2) Now keep in mind that this was done on the way to Toys R Us - yeah, that's where I took my kids as a BRIBE. Remember, you MUST bribe your kids. It's really the only way to raise a well-adjusted, morally centered child. Really, it is. I bribed them to be good during gymnastics. They've been not-so-good lately in class, and I guess I COULD have talked to them about good behavior, perhaps attached some consequences to their behavior, blah blah blah. But really, the right approach was to just bribe them - if you're good during class....Toys R Us.

Wait, are you writing these down? You really should be writing these down. It's not often you get real-world examples from one of the best parents in the world. Don't let this opportunity pass you by.

(3) And really, I should mention that they weren't ALL that great during class, but once I mentioned Toys R Us, it really was out there, and if I took it back, well, there would be a hissy-fit in the car, and I was tired and didn't want a hissy-fit in the car, and really, they didn't bite/hit/spit on anyone or call anyone a poopy-head and with my kids that's practically sainthood so I totally ignored the deal and took them to Toys R Us anyway. Because that's the RIGHT thing to do. Trust me, I'm an expert.

(4) So, then we spent the evening at Toys R Us. They were each given a $20 budget ($10 of which would come out of their allowance, $10 from me). True to form, Jack dragged me all around the store, looking at every over-priced item, and chose the $5 Peter Cottontail book. Also true to form, Ellie dragged me all around the store, looking at every over-priced item, and chose the $100 Princess Carriage Piece of Crap. Once she understood that $100 was slightly more than $20, she was stumped. So that's when I implemented my next amazing parenting technique - convince them to buy what YOU want to buy. As you may know, as a child I always wanted the Snoopy Sno Cone Machine (along with the Easy Bake Oven and Barbie Makeup/Hair Head), but never got it. But never fear, thanks to my Jedi mind tricks, Ellie came to believe that she really, really wanted a Snoopy Sno Cone Machine. So that's another piece of advice - always burden your children with YOUR dreams. That's really important.

(5) And finally, a last piece of advice - after filling your children with junky food, bribing them, ignoring all bad behavior to avoid the hassle of discipline, and convincing them that they want what YOU want, the best way to end your day is with some nice chocolate milk and cartoons. Sure, some (some less awesome than I am) would suggest scripture study, bonding time, blah blah blah. But no, the proper way to end the day is with sugar and cartoons.

Now if you didn't catch all that - I know it's hard to take in all of my parental awesomeness in one sitting and apply it to your life - just wait until tomorrow, because I'm sure I'll display some truly amazing parenting again. It's what I do.

Three Guesses

As to what my darling dog is doing in this picture:
(1) Hopping onboard the 140-pound Hershey for a quick piggy-back ride between friends
(2) Giving ol' Hershey a much-needed push to get his paws unstuck from the mud
(3) Doing unsightly-and-not-for-mixed-company-nor-for-youngsters'-eyes things

Yup, you guessed it. People, Otis has a PROBLEM. Yes, I know this "activity" is a normal dog thing, to show dominance or anxiety or a particularly pesky itch or whatever. But he does this ALL DAY LONG to his poor Uncle Hershey. We shoo him away, nudge him with our feet, say "bad dog!" 'til the cows come home (until they see what he's doing, then they run away again). But all he does, all day long, is dream of ways to do this before we notice it. He really has a problem. And he really is quite lucky that Hershey is such a relaxed dog, which is the only explanation why he hasn't snapped Otis in two pieces yet.

Do you think they have an applicable 12-step program for dogs?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Stay, Spring, Stay.

When we went to see the Jazz play the Wizards, we discovered that I have remarkable powers to change the course of nature. You see, that night I agreed to wear a Wizards baseball cap ALL NIGHT, despite my lifelong fear of wearing hats, to show my support for our oft-fledgling basketball team. The Fates harnessed the Power of Lydia, and not only did the Wizards beat the much-favored Jazz, the Jazz after that went on a losing streak that made Jared want to cry. So now I've decided to harness my Power for good and force Spring to not just arrive, but STAY.

You see, Spring keeps teasing us - we'll have an 80-degree-day, followed immediately by a 40-degree-day. Today is supposed to be in the mid 80s, only to plummet tomorrow to below 60 the rest of the week. So it's time to take matters into my own hands. It's time for Operation Springtime, dammit. First step, do all things Spring in the hopes of tricking the beeyatch Mother Nature into letting Spring stick around.

So we're sporting the buzz cuts. Nothing says warmth and sunshine like a kid with a buzz cut, right? Of course, the poor hairless wonder has to wear a hat out in the gloomy 50s, but hey, he's willing to take one for the team.

And we're taking trips to the local farm to see the baby animals. The animals think it's Spring, right? They can't be wrong, can they?

We even flagged down the Ice Cream Man the other day. And yes, please picture Middle-Aged-Lady-Lydia running down the street yelling to our 12-year-old neighbor "Stop Him! Stop Him!" I'm more than willing to shame myself for a greater cause, people.

We even planted some flowers and veggies, in the hopes that they won't be frosted out before they have a chance to grow.

Will this work? Will the Power of Lydia triumph over Winter? Not so sure, but dangit, I'm SICK of dreary, cold days, and obviously YOU PEOPLE are not taking action, so someone must. You can thank me later.

On Social Justice...and Snacks

While driving home from swim lessons:

Jack: "Ellie, I'll give you some of my Rice Krispie treat if you give me some of your cookies"
Ellie: (no sound - not clear at this time if non-verbal communication was provided)
Jack: "here you go"
Ellie: "thanks"
Jack: "ok, now give me some cookies"
Ellie: "no"
Jack: "Ellie, we traded, you have to give me some!"
Ellie: "ok, I'll give you one, and I'll eat a hundred"
Jack: "That's not fair, because 1 is a small number, and 100 is a huge number!"
Ellie: "I don't care"
Jack: "But Martin Luther King had a dream that all people would be treated fairly and equally and you're not treating me equally!"
Ellie: "ok, I'll give you 7, and I'll eat a million"
Jack: "Mommmmmm!!!!"

Humility

Do you want to know the ultimate cure for a big ego? Have a kid. Trust me, I know. Because there's nothing that inspires more humility than knowing that I am ruled by a 4-year-old. A 38-pound midget who pronounces banana "cabana" is ruling my life. And really, how much more humiliating can that be.

Take the other day. Ellie was WONDERFUL all last week, and through the weekend too. But just when you get complacent, she strikes.

So we had just returned from our weekend in the country, and while unloading the car I realized it really, really needed to be vacuumed out. So I put the kids back in the car to drive to the nearby gas station. And that's when Ellie decided to remind me who's boss. First it started with the unbuckling of the seat belt. She'd unbuckle her seat belt (and of course inform me while saying "nah, nah, nah"), and I'd swerve over to the side of the road, get out, and put her seat belt back on. That was twice. Then came the opening of the car door - while we were driving 40 mph down the road. So she opens it up (luckily just a crack), and again, I swerve over, get out, and close the door. Get back into the car, off we go, and she does it again. Nah, nah, nah. So I get out (yes, by this time I'm threatening all kinds of punishment everyone knows I will not enforce), close the door -- and before I even get back to the driver's side, she opens it again. Nah, nah, nah. At that point, I break - and all passersby would see a crazy lady, halfway into the car, big butt sticking out, screaming "we have to be safe!!!!!!" as I wrestle Ellie to hold her still, get her seat belt back on, and close her door, while at the same time reaching up front to push the "lock" button on all the doors. I finally succeeded and managed to calm myself down by the time I headed back out. But I came out of the experience with just a little less dignity than I started the day out with. That's what happens when you realize that you're controlled by a 4-year-old.

So if you're ever feeling really good about yourself, like you are just all that and a bag of chips? Head over to my house and hang out with Ellie for a while. She'll cure you of that real quick. Nah, nah, nah.

Pet Peeve

Why?
Oh why?
What did the butter ever do to you to make you treat it so?

Grandpa Week and Country Time

Jack, who will make a holiday out of anything, declared this past week Grandpa Week. That's because he and Ellie got to spend time with both of their grandfathers this week. I had to go on a business trip for 3 days, so we were lucky enough that Grandpa Sorenson was able to come and help Jared out with the kids. With two men-folk running the household, you might expect to come home to a dirty house, grimy kids, and lots of Taco Bell wrappers. But the elder Mr. Sorenson kept the house running like a well-oiled machine - kids got to school on time, went to bed on time, were well fed and clean, and had a REALLY GOOD TIME with Grandpa. There were hours and hours of Candyland, horsey rides, and hide-and-go-seek, and the kids had a blast. Hopefully they'll lose those high expectations quickly now that Mommy is back.

After dropping Grandpa (and Dad) off at the airport, we headed down to see the other grandfather, GrandDad Candland, and of course Grandmom along with him. We got to spend a couple of days in the good ol' countryside. The first day was mainly long walks and exploring - but then the cousins arrived on Day Two, and boy, did the kids play hard. Country Hard. For those who aren't familiar with what it's like for kids to play Country Hard, just picture lots of fresh air, lots of running and climbing, lots of sweat, and lots and lots of dirt.



This is country hard. It involves lots of running. And a dog, of course.

That - that's country hard, too. It must involve lots of discovered pine cones and gumballs and sea shells and rocks and dirt (which must end up in your car).

It involves Mom taking lots of deep breaths and avoiding saying "not so close to the edge!" a million times.

It's not country hard unless half of the Potomac River ends up in your shoes.

And it's not country hard unless the kids have to take all items of clothing off at the door, and all clothes, shoes, and coats have to be go through HAZMAT processing.

But thankfully, country hard results in this. Amen.