Archive for the ‘Who’s Spawn ARE you?’ Category

I made sloppy joe’s for dinner last night, yes it’s a veritable cornucopia of gourmet treats at my house.  While browning the ground turkey, it occured to me that other people might not pound the crap out of their meat with a wooden spoon like I do to make sure there is not one bit larger than a pea and god forbid there be a ‘string’ left.  You know how the meat comes out of the grinder in long strings and if you don’t, well, pound the crap out of it with a wooden spoon, it will brown in those long strings and that just makes me want to gag.

So I started thinking about the fact that I’m kinda OCD about stuff, but they are very random, which keeps things interesting.  It’s like I have some distant relative of OCD who comes to visit my brain once in a while at completely unexpected times and yet, when he’s here, HE’S HERE TO STAY.

I’m completely compulsive about the pillows on my couch.  The hub unit will throw them on the couch in any order and while I applaud him for the effort, IT MAKES ME INSANE that they are not all straight and in a particular color order.  I don’t mind that they get used, but for goodness sake, PUT THE ZIPPER SIDE DOWN!

Actually I’m pretty compulsive about how my house looks in general, as it must be NEAT.  However, I really couldn’t give two figs about whether it is CLEAN.  So thank you to Cathy for sending me EVA, our saviour 🙂

Then there is the difference between hub & I.  This morning he made a big show of putting on his Santa Clarita Choppers t-shirt, which came with the Harley we brought home a few days ago.  We got one for the monkey as well and as hub was putting his on, I kept shaking my head NO NO, cause the little guys t-shirt was in the laundry.   OOPS.  Meltdown. 

Hub:  How dirty is it?

Me:  Well, he wore it all day, and then he slept in it.  He’s eaten in it and played at the park in it.  Since then, it’s been in the hamper, under other dirty clothes for two days.

Hub:  Only two days?  Kid come here, let’s put your SCC t-shirt on.

Different standards.  Made my hair stand on end, but the smile on monkey’s face helped me keep the bile down.  Of course, I can’t hug him, but whatever. 


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I’m catching up on my blogging today so you get two entries for the price of one!  We are on vacation in Carlsbad, CA.  – cute village, wine tasting, spas, cafes, nice restaurants, pretty beach, and yes, surfing.  We are at the Carlsbad Inn, which is pretty nice, just across a small street to the special stairs to the beach, complete with free chairs, umbrellas, boogie boards, and sand toys for the asking.  Because the water is not really warm yet, we rented the boys surf wetsuits yesterday and also rented a foam longboard for them to try out.


This brings me to the surf thing.  My oldest tried it out a couple summers ago with friends and was told he was pretty good at catching on.  Since then, he has wanted a board.  The skim board I bought him before he went away to school (Cal Poly San Luis Obispo – yes, a surfer campus) was no substitute, although he has gotten quite good at sliding on the water film made by the retreating waves, and can do spins and jumps.  I am pretty sure one of the reasons he chose this campus (besides the highly-ranked aerospace engineering program and the bowling alley in the student union) was the fact that they offer a “for fun” class in shaping your own surf board. 


I was not surprised when he told me he was taking the class the first month he was on campus.  I WAS surprised later on when he informed me that it would cost $225 to pick up the board from the guy who was doing the fiberglass coating on it, and that he’d be late getting back to his room to meet me when I picked him up for Christmas break “’cuz I just gotta get my board!”.  When I asked where he got this $225, it became clear he would be a little short on the rent money January 1st.

  First surf culture observation #1: Surf stuff is really cool and worth spending your rent money on, as long as you believe you still have enough parental credits to get it covered in time. 

The surf board glass guy only reinforced my son’s view of how cool this board was when Kyle called him to arrange for the pickup.  He said: “DUDE!  You’re sooo stoked!  This board is great, man!”  ( Surf Observation #2:  Doing fiberglass for a living might be fun and even lucrative, but it really does a number on your brain cells.)

Now Kyle thinks he can not only surf (“You’re picking this up really fast!”, but that he can make boards, too.  It doesn’t help that I flash back to when we moved to southern California with our then 9-month blonde son and our friends prophetically said, “I can see it now – you’re going to have a surfer on your hands.” 


Surf culture observation #3: Anyone’s surf stuff makes all other surfers or wanna-be-surfers really excited.  Case in point:  Kyle “got to” store his friends long board (read over 9 feet long) in my garage for about a year – never used it – whole other story– but he thought it was so cool to look at and think about using.)


Now back to this week in Carlsbad.  I have now lugged the hand-made surf board all the way from SLO to Santa Clarita and now here, we have rented the wet suit, and as it turns out, he cannot try the board out because it has developed a crack.  We have looked up repair shops in the phone book, and thankfully thought to ask the nice surfer-dude man at the rental shop if he knows where to get repairs done.  Surf Culture observation #4: surfers are easy going and nice, and many are attractive in a sun-worn, muscular way.  Sorry to digress – the good news is he tells Kyle that he can use Solarez (a tube of special epoxy-like gunk), to repair the crack himself, and that it cures in the sun is about 1/2 hour.  “Great!”, I think, “this will save some of next month’s rent money.”  So a good part of yesterday was spent with Kyle repairing the board, AND re-finishing the skim board with spray on polycrylic we had to stop at a hardware store for.  Our condo deck looks like a repair shop (yes, my husband brought sand paper and steel wool along – don’t ask!), and the living room smells like what I imagine glue sniffers (or surf board fiberglass guys) are attracted to.

Surf Culture observation #5: working on your boards is almost as attractive as using them. 

While at the surf shop, we also had to purchase a “leash” for said new surf board, and some wax.  Cold water, and also base coat, since it has not been waxed before.  There were lots of fun things in there – cute and provocative clothing, board covers, and many other accessories and toys.  Surf Culture observation #6: There are lots of sexual undertones in this sport – and actually, some are pretty overt.  We could choose between Sex Wax or Sticky Bumps.  Kyle wanted Sticky Bumps.  He got an “XM High Performance Leash”  We could order a cover for his board called the “Thruster Cover”.  The wax packet said “How to wax your stick”.  Kyle told us one of his teachers says: “If it swells, ride it!”  You get the idea.  Slight uncomfortable feelings looking at all of this with my two sons, but sorta fun when I focus on my hubby.


After all of this, the boys ended up skim and boogie boarding with the wet suits – “The waves are no good for surfing.”, and the new board has still not made it into the ocean.  I do have to admit that it looks great, and it’s kind of neat to think of my muscular blonde son riding it, just like our friend foretold all those years ago.  Maybe I’ll get to see it on this vacation, or perhaps a future one.  Maybe there will actually be an application for it when he gets to fluid mechanics or aerodynamics in his aero program (a mom can hope!).  Maybe he’ll just develop another great physical hobby that makes him feel good and lets off steam. Surf culture observation #7 (really a Mom observation) : There are many less desirable things a kid could get into, I do think it’s cool,  and mostly, I wish I could do it, too.

Have a good one, dude!


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My big sister is here visiting from northern California.  She is this fabulously creative, supportive, nurturing, giving and incredible woman (who by the way, doesn’t see any of that in herself, sheesh, maybe we set the bar too high for ourselves??) and I love her unique perspective on the little things in this world.  The following conversation took place while we all sat at the dinner table watching a recording of the Discovery Channel show about the Endeavor Space Shuttle launch, which my three year old is completely fascinated with.  Yeah, he’s smarter than me, so what?

After watching all the astronauts get suited up and hearing a little personal history, including the list of degrees each of them have, my sister turned to me & the hub unit and said:

Sis:  ‘Jeez, these are really smart guys.  It makes you wonder if these are the kind of people we SHOULD be sending into space.  I mean, what if something happens again, like it did with Columbia?  All that knowledge and experience would be lost.’

A moment of silence.

Hub: ‘Weeeell, if not these really smart guys, who should we be sending up?’

Me:  ‘PERHAPS we should send up some guy named Earl.  After all, the inside of the space shuttle probably doesn’t look all that dissimilar to the inside of a double wide.  Actually, if you could just make the controls look like a TV remote, we might have a shot . . . ‘

Let’s take a vote.  Really smart astronaut guys or Earl?? 

Just a glimpse into the profound thinktank that is my house, where we delve into the pressing problems of the day and come up with viable solutions. 

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I used to think I was a patient person.  Actually, if I’m being honest with myself, perhaps patient isn’t the correct word.  I was, um, easygoing.  And possibly just easy, but that is definitely another post.

Being an older mom, I really started out feeling like I had patience in spades.  After all, we waited so long and went thru so much on our infertility, hysterectomy, adoption journey just to bring the kid home – why would I ever YELL at him????

Then he started wanting to do things for himself.  Freakish. 

Do you know how long it takes a three year old to brush his teeth?  WELL, let’s see.  He must walk to the bathroom, climb up on the stool, climb down from the stool, open the drawer, take out the toothbrush, close the drawer, climb back up on the stool, climb back down from the stool, open the drawer, take out the toothpaste, close the drawer, climb back up on the stool, put down the toothbrush, turn on the water, open the toothpaste, squeeze the toothpaste onto the toothbrush, close the toothpaste, tip over the toothbrush and smear the toothpaste all over the counter and the clean shirt I put on him only one minute ago before he walked to the bathroom, cry, cry, yell at me for trying to help, say ‘I do it,’ open the toothpaste, squeeze more toothpaste onto the toothbrush, close the toothpaste, set down the toothpaste, pick up the toothbrush, put the toothbrush in his mouth, swallow the toothpaste without it ever having touched a tooth, move the toothbrush back and forth three times before saying ‘I all done, mama,’ point to his teeth and say ‘white teeths,’ climb down from the stool, open the drawer, put in toothbrush and toothpaste, close the drawer and leave the bathroom.

Perhaps this is why I may need a few more sessions with his holiness, the Dali Lama. 

But hey, things are looking up.  I read today that the Catholic church is going to allow confessions via the INTERNET.  Talk about a blog I wanna read . . .   That would be a real timesaver if I were Catholic.

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Zac joined a new basketball team here in the valley.  One of his friends asked him to come out.  It’s nice to see him enjoying being part of a team again.  They seem like a great group of families too.  I like that.  Keep ’em busy with good kids I say.

This team does a fundraiser for March Madness.  They pass out the bracket (or whatever you call that) to everyone via email and you can enter your choices on it and turn it in with $10 (kids) or $20 (adults).  A lot of the families did it and we even have two copies pasted on my office door that Ron and Zac made their predictions on.  Seems an awful lot of people in this group are UCLA fans.  I think they are favored in our pool to win in looking at the breakdwown that the coach sent out this morning. 

Ron and I talked about it and I said, “I guess we’ll be watching more college basketball than before huh?”.  He said, “well we’ll at least be more interested in the games.”  I think it’ll be good for ALL the kids on the team to start keeping a closer eye on the college teams since most of them have it as their dream to play for a college somewhere. 

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I tried to post yesterday and I sat in front of the computer and thought to myself, “what will I post about today?”  Nothing came to mind … just the sound of crickets.  Huh. 

It reminded me of years ago in college in an English class I was in.  I had this great teacher that looked like a droopy dog from a cartoon that I can’t recall the name of right now.  He taught us to meditate on the first day.  Now I lived in Visalia and really, meditation was FAR from what was the norm.  In fact, I believe a lot of the kids went home and told their parents who promplty filed complaints with the school.  I wasn’t one of them because I saw that it actually worked.  He walked us through relaxing our bodies and minds while we sat in that chair and then taught us to just write whatever came from our head.  Kind of like our intuitive painting class a few weeks ago.  So that’s what I’m doing this morning … letting it fly – haha. 

I have so many topics in my head right now but none that seem very clever or witty (which is what I like to write on most). 

I read a blog this morning that inspired me.  I found it through the tag surf feature and it showed up because of the common “friends” tag.  It’s written by a guy that has a great voice in his words.  You know what I mean … when you feel you that you can hear their voice as you read their story.  He wrote about friends today, but in digging through his blog a bit more, I learned about his real story.  He and his wife are adopting two children from Haiti – Amos and Story.  If you have some time, take a look at his blog … I think you’ll dig it.  

I remember years ago when my ex and I decided to adopt.  It’s a scary and exhilarating journey.  You have so many naysayers to contend with, yet you know in your heart that you are on the right path.  The first time I saw the picture of Zac, I knew that he was meant for me.  In a weird way, I’m grateful to my ex for opening that door for me (even though he didn’t stick around for the long haul).  If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have adopted so early.  There is a lot more to that story, but I don’t feel like getting into that now.  I love the journey that Zac and I (and now Ron too) have been on together.  There are days I freak, days I yell, days I cry and quite a few days where I laugh a lot. 

I can’t wait to hear more about their journey too. 

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It was a really bad day for my marriage when our three year old stopped taking naps, since the hub and I always enjoyed our own afternoon playdate (sly boots wink) while he slept.  Or at least we had the OPTION to enjoy it.  Now our only options are early, early and I repeat, early in the morning, which has never been my best sexy kitten time.  Or late.  And by late, I mean past 8 pm after which the hub staying awake becomes dicey, but which is when the little guy goes to bed perchance to sleep, perchance NOT.   He is still awake in his bed as I write this at 10 pm, while my husband is peacefully snoring in our bed, see earlier post ‘fluffy review’ for the medical explanation for snoring.  And if monkey is still awake by the time hub & I miraculously do manage to both be awake and in our room at the same time, I’m terrified he’s going to tiptoe in and startle us by asking ‘What doin’ mama??’ complete with hand gestures and quizzical look on his face.  This also does not lend itself to sexy kitten behaviour.

So I had to enroll the kid in a class during the week just to get some alone time.  We have about a one hour window, so I figure we can clean the house with the other 55 minutes.  This morning hub unit dropped kid off with the understanding that he would return to our house forthwith where I would be waiting for him.  Waiting.  For.  Him.  Meow.

I miscalcuated.  Now, I’ve never been one to worry about other women.  Sure that 19 year old may LOOK hot, but eventually she will have to speak, which, thankfully, would result in my man losing immediate interest.  When I start to notice him spending time with a young, attractive mute I may need to pay attention.

Nope, the mistake I made was to not scout the businesses surrounding said school.  My bad.  While the candles burned down to puddles and the Showtime after dark special languished on hold, I sat alone drumming my fingers.   Should I just go ahead and clean the house?  Nah.  I’M GONNA CALL HIM.  So I did.  And ya know what?  Turns out there’s a little place called SANTA CLARITA CHOPPERS right across the street from the school.  Perhaps there should be a law about that, requiring all motorcycle shops to be registered with the WOA (wives of america) and housed at least a mile from any type of family establishment where husbands might be distracted by something shiny.  Put them in an orange light district to at least give us a little warning.  

Seems the other woman is a 2002 Harley Davidson Softail, with 10,000 miles.  Yeah, she’s used.  Yeah, she needs some work.  Yeah, he’s gonna spend money on her.  And he’s taking me to meet her tomorrow morning. 

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