AMomTwoBoys

Growing up in New York, we watched The Weather Channel constantly.  My dad and I were big on watching thunderstorms roll in and so I’d keep an eye on the radar so I’d know what to expect and when.  Then we could go sit on the back deck and see it all unfold before our eyes.

Of course, we’d go inside before it got too crazy out.  Nothing like being struck by lightening to ruin a good day, right?

Anyway, if you grew up in a part of the country that snows, you know how important knowing the weather forecast is every night before school.  Because snow days?  Are a precious commodity, and if you know the night ahead that there’s a big storm coming, your night can be filled with dreams of all the fun things you and your friends would be able to do the next day.

And if you’re like me, you’d probably also spend the night jumping out of bed to look out the widow to make sure the forecasters hadn’t given you the wrong forecast AGAIN.  Nothing like planning a snowday filled with movies, hot chocolate and glop only to have your dreams dashed when you wake up to find 50+ degree temps and no fucking snow on the ground.  Assholes.

Where was I going with all of this?  Oh, yes.  Weather.com.  So living in Southern California, I generally don’t have a great need for the weather forecast.  In my area, you can plan on temps ranging from 60-70 degrees with fog in the morning and afternoon sun for 300 days of the year.  The other 65 days are either over 70 and sunny or colder and possibly rainy.

It’s the rainy days that get me.  I find myself once again obsessively checking weather.com or even turning on The Weather Channel when I can get my kids away from The Wiggles and Dora for a few minutes.  I CAN NOT help myself.  It’s like a sickness and I should probably seek professional help.

So, now that I’m in New York for the next few days, I’m once again glued to the “weather in motion” radar feature on Weather.com.  I might have to just suck it up, buy myself some kickass rain boots and head out in the rain.  Because as much as I love watching the weather unfold online, I’d rather get out and get rained on in my favorite city.

Zach Zach (as he’s called around these parts) is sick.  BOO.

He woke up yesterday and promptly threw up on me.  So that was fun.

Then he acted FINE, so we went out and he and his brother rode their bikes and all was well.

Came home and ate lunch.  He had three strawberries and two bites of a turkey & cheese sandwich.

Then he took a nap.

And woke up and threw up on me again.  (btw, regurgitated strawberries are NOT appetizing.)

Then he acted fine AGAIN, except  he didn’t want to eat or drink anything.

He even ASKED me to go to bed.  A full hour before his normal bedtime.

Today he’s sluggish and still not hungry.  But he’s not feverish AT ALL, which is nice.

It’s 9:00am as I type this and he’s been napping for the past hour.

This is not a good sign.

Also?  I’m missing out on Dylan’s first school field trip.   :0(

I think a Mimosa is in order.  Or bacon.  Or BOTH!

OH!  Did i mention I’m leaving in less than a week?!  GAH.

Here’s Zach Zach rocking OUT to The Wiggles the other night. Before he was brought down by The Yuck.

After watching that, I don’t know how ANYONE can suggest I stop putting on The Wiggles for him.  That right there is solid gold entertainment, people.

I know it will shock you to know that, in my youth, I was never much of a party girl.

I didn’t drink in high school. I didn’t drink (a lot) in college.  I was more likely to go hang out in my sweats at a friend’s house on a weekend than I was to get hussied up and cruise DP, like most of the kids who attend UCSB do.

In my old age, I’ve become even more of a homebody.  We don’t to go out.  And when we do, it’s to Applebee’s for their 2 for $20 meal.   I know.  We’re awesome.

Anyway, I’ve found myself recently in the midst of preparing for TWO BIG BASHES.  Each on a weeknight.

That? Is SO not normally my thing.

But I’m so excited for these parties I can hardly contain myself.  The Aiming Low girls are invading the East Coast and, with the help of HP, we have some exciting stuff in store.

For YOU!

But only if you live in or around Boston or NYC.  Or are willing to travel to either of those cities.  Which you totally should be, because I’m not exaggerating when I say that these parties are going to be fracking awesome.

I’m a little nervous about two things:

1. Having to stay up late.  I’m hopeful that the time difference will help.   Since, you know, it will only be like 8pm for me when things wrap up.  But still.  8pm IS late for me.
2. What the freak I’m going to wear.  If it were JUST the Aiming Low girls, I’d be more than comfortable in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants.  BUT, it’s not just the Aiming Low girls.  It’s lots of people.  People I’ve never met!  People who might not KNOW that I’m a total schlub.  So I need to look presentable and stylish.  Two words that generally don’t enter my vocabulary.

B what does all this mean for YOU?

1. It means you need to get your butt to Boston or New York.
2. It means that if you have cool friends & family, you need to invite them (No losers, please.  Non-bloggers are welcome!  The more the merrier!)*.
3. It means you need to put on your party hat.
4. It means you need to be prepared to possibly walk away with some COOL ASS prizes.
5. It means you need to also be prepared to hang out with ME!  And some other super fantabulous Aiming Low ladies!
6. It means you need to see this post for more information!

Now get to planning!  I expect to see you there!  Because it’s the chance of a lifetime!  Seriously!  Go!  Plan!  NOW!

*I’m totally kidding about the losers.  Kind of.

1. Boys are capable of getting filthy dirty in even the most boring of circumstances.
2. Feed the boys dinosaur chicken and macaroni and cheese and each of them will only eat half.  It’s easier to just give Dylan the chicken and Zach the mac and cheese and not argue with them about what they’re each not eating.
3. The President was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize?!  QUE HORROR!  (that was sarcasm, btw)
4. I can’t decide if taking my kids to Vegas is a great idea or an awful one.  Only time will tell.
5. I’m still excited for cold weather, I just wish Mother Nature would make up her freaking mind.
6. If there’s something for Zach to run his head into, he will.
7. Trolls are stupid and mean and deserve a swift kick somewhere it would hurt a lot.
8. The Aiming Low girls are some of the best friends a girl could ask for.
9. If your son’s first ever fieldtrip is planned for the pumpkin patch, you can count on the fact that the first major rainstorm of the season will arrive for that day.
10. Mother Nature has a shitty sense of humor.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend!!!

Dylan and I were driving home from preschool today when we passed an old, rusty, beat up, nasty ass car.

He asked me “Mom, how did that car get so old?”

So I said, “I don’t know, how did YOU get so old?”  (I know, I know, missed teaching opportunity.  Whatever)

And he said:  ”I’m not old!  I’m just a kid.  You’re old when you’re…”

*dramatic pause*

“How old are you, Mommy?”

“Thirty.”

“You’re old when you’re thirty.”

Fucking kid.

She’s been gone six months.

SIX.

A half a year.

It’s hard to believe.

It’s hard to imagine.

It’s impossible to come to terms with.

I think of her every day.

Throughout the day.

I WILL think of her every day.

Throughout the day.

Always.

We love you Maddie.  We miss you.

We don’t really have definitive seasons here.  It was something that, after moving from New York, took me some time to get used to.

There are a few things that happen, though, that make me realize fall is definitely upon us.

• I look for any excuse to wear a sweater.
• I cook dishes that contain cranberries.
• I put my  kids in footie pajamas.
• Grilled Cheese Sandwiches and Soup are a logical meal choice.
• Pumpkin Spice Lattes are at the top of my must have list.
• I don’t wear my flip flops every single day.
• I put a blanket on the bed.
• I stop sleeping with the window open.
• I look at the thermostat.
• I try to remind myself what a thermostat does.
• I buy socks.
• I debate whether my kids need to wear a jacket.
• I opt for the jacket, because they look so gosh darn cute.
• I think about buying myself a rain jacket
• I decide against it.
• I think about drinking hot tea.
• I decide against it.
• I break out the flannel sheets.
• I decide to wait a while before I put them on the beds.

As soon as it’s time for flannel sheets, though?  It’s my cue that winter is upon us.  Just wait for THAT list.

THAT?  Really shouldn’t have been a thought in my head.

But it was.  OH, how it was.

I had it all planned out.   The title of the post.  The pictures I would include.  The STORIES I’d be able to tell.

But, alas.  It wasn’t meant to be.

And the thought that I was *slightly* disappointed that Dylan does NOT, in fact, need an eye patch?   May be a little sad.  But only a little.  A teeny, tiny, itty, bitty little bit.

But, I do have one awesome story.

When we were on our way to Dr. Ocular’s office, I was talking to Dylan about the visit and trying to prepare him that he might have to wear a patch over his eye.  I was telling him about it and ended with “You might  not like it very much, but you’ll get used to it.”

He thought about it for a second and said “I’ll like it!  Captain Feathersword on The Wiggles wears an eye patch!”

I fucking love that kid.

Oh, and suck it, Imagination Movers.  Beat THAT awesomeness.