Where Peace and Joy Abound

We're back in Twinsburg for Thanksgiving.

It's nice to be home.

It's also nice to know that my mother has not changed one bit since last Thanksgiving. She is still the gracious host she's always been, dedicated to making the holiday a joyous and stress-free occasion.



Shortly after this footage was shot, we settled in, my dad said grace, and we went around the table stating what we're thankful for. La is thankful for princesses. And we're ALL thankful that we all made it through the preparation of the feast alive, with all our limbs intact. And that my mom didn't have a stress-induced coronary.

ThankYouLordAmen.

Side note: If anyone is ever invited to my parents' house and happens to be permitted to cross the threshold of the kitchen (Grandma Fern), please, for the love of all that is good, DO NOT set an empty egg shell on the granite counter top. I wish that kind of wrath on no one.

The poor sponge didn't stand a chance

Friday evening, La was lucky enough to go to her friend Kaitlyn's birthday party. She was picked up from school by K's mom, and I showed up at around 6:30 to pick her up ... Just in time to witness a savage beating of a defenseless Mr. Squarepants. 

IT WAS FRIGHTENING. (The fact that the assailant was clad in a Snow White princess gown didn't do anything to ease the terror either)

I would have posted the video footage of La smacking at the piñata, but frankly, it was too pathetic to post. In fact, I wouldn't even call her maneuver "smacking." It was more like "gently tapping."

The following video features Miss Kaitlyn herself bringing home the glory like a real champ. (I apologize for the length of this clip, but I didn't want to stop recording for fear that I would miss the big moment) (I also apologize that I didn't keep recording for another 10 seconds, which is when the owner of the venue FREAKED THE HECK OUT at all the kids. I mean, he really let them have it for getting too close to the kid with the stick (LAW SUIT!). However understandable the outburst was, it was still a bit unexpected, since five minutes prior he had shouted this very sentence: We only have ONE RULE at Fantasy Kingdom. And that is to HAVE FUN!!! ... um ... apparently there are TWO rules.)

As I watched this scene unfold, all I could think was: This is so barbaric. In a fun way, but still barbaric. And I also thought: Jeez. Whoever designed this piñata was not trying to match the expression on Spongebob's face to the horror of the situation that would become his demise.

Maybe this choice would have been more appropriate:

Hopefully this is no indication of her future career path

Oh yes we did.

The above is not a photo of last year's tree.

Last night, Aunt M, La and I spent the evening listening to Christmas music and setting up the tree. I guess we were just feeling the spirit of Christmas, plus La will be spending time with her dad and his family for almost three weeks over the holidays ... So I didn't think there was any harm in starting a bit early this year. 

And, more importantly, I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a family of rats inhabiting my tree and had to do something about it. 

I was certain that last year I had purchased a plastic Rubbermaid container to store my tree in. Turns out I only thought about purchasing this novel item. I discovered this when I ventured down to the storage dungeon a few weeks ago to retrieve La's Halloween bucket and saw that I had indeed stuffed the tree back into its tattered cardboard box ... Oh, and with the top flaps wide open with the soft, lifelike fir branches poking out seductively, BECKONING THE RATS TO BUILD A NEST IN IT. Since M was over, I decided last night was a good time to go down to my storage unit in the bowels of my building and dump the tree out to see if my theory was valid. It would help having M there. You know. In case a rat were to leap from the box and latch onto my bottom lip, causing me to DROP DEAD RIGHT THEN AND THERE. I figured there was about a 50 percent chance of that exact scenario taking place. And it would be nice to have a witness in the event that it did occur.

So, I dragged my sis and La down there and sifted through the box. And guess what? 

No rats. 

Just a pretty tree for us to decorate ... and being that it was strewn all over the ground anyway, we decided to put it up. Isn't it lovely?

Adventures in Babysitting

Yesterday, we had La's friend "K" over for the day. (I'm really hoping I've never sent her mother the link to my blog ... but, if I did, it's okay. She already knows everything I am about to divulge to the Internet)

"K" is what I would call High Maintenance. I know this because I have now watched her three times. And after three times I think it's safe to assume that it's not a fluke. She's ALWAYS THIS NUTS.

I am aware that there are many other kids just like her. My own mother is a survivor of the exact method of torture that K has thrice inflicted on me. When my brother was young, he had a buddy named Daniel Hixon, and BOY WAS THIS KID A HELLION. I mean, the kid would get my brother so riled up that my mom would all but pull out the bourbon to get Aaron to sleep that night. One time, when they were about 4 or 5, Daniel convinced Aaron that our newly-planted lawn had "cracks" in it. Being that it was Kentucky Bluegrass Sod, the cracks were in fact normal. They would have filled in after a few more days. That is, if Daniel and Aaron hadn't rolled the sod pieces up into coils that littered the muddy yard.

Anyway, back to K. She came over around noon and immediately started working her witchcraft on my sweet La. Within moments, they were wildly running back and forth around the house like banshees, knocking over toys, books and large pieces of furniture along the way.

I told them to get their coats because, "WE'RE GOING TO THE ZOO YOU CRAZY MONKEYS!"

K responded with, "Well, do you have money to buy us treats at the zoo?"

And I was like, "No. And I wouldn't give you any sugar right now if your life depended on it."

Placing her hands on her hips defiantly, she countered with, "Then I'm not going to the zoo!"

... Let's just say that I won that battle with a stern look, a small bribe, and an empty threat. And then we were off!

When we got to there, I noticed a sign for a "Children's Zoo." La and I had never ventured to this section before, so we headed that way. We got inside, and what we saw took my breath away. The clouds parted and a ray of heaven's light shined down on me while a chorus of angels sang a sweet melody. 

What I saw was a whole bunch of weird twisty boards and other crap suspended from the ceiling with ropes that children were allowed to climb on. It was beautiful!

So, the two of them climbed and climbed and climbed. And I sat and sat and sat. The zookeeper even came out and let me pet a snake, which added to the coolness factor of this Secret Garden of Glory. And then I sat some more. And they just kept on climbing.

It was amazing.

We also discovered a wall of glass inside the Children's Zoo that had playful little otters frolicking around in water on the other side. They were even doing back flips. Yes, back flips! I'm not kidding!

K and La and I sat there for an hour watching them. And I was all like, "Little otter! Yes! You're an otter! Yes you are! And I want to take you home with me! I want to tickle your toes and kiss your nose! You sweet, sweet Otter you!"

And then, after annoying plenty of fellow zoo visitors with our incessant cooing, it was time to go. With a little prodding, some physical lifting, and even a stern lecture from La on why K should just DO WHAT MY MAMA SAYS ALREADY, we got K to the car. (Which was parked a whole three blocks away from the zoo.)

We then drove the the theater to meet K's mom (oh, sweet relief) and to see Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa.

The movie was cute, the girls were good at the theater, and I was so happy to get home that night, relax with my little La, and Escape 2 MahBed.

My dad will be weeping tears of joy

I have been named the "Floor Warden" at my work. (Okay, maybe I wasn't really "named" Floor Warden -- I more or less volunteered.) This means I am responsible to get as many people out of the office as possible in the case of an emergency (ie: fire, bomb threat, big sale at Nordstrom Rack).

And the best part about the job? Of course, it's the awesome fire-orange hat and the rockin' red binder that come with the title. Oh, and being able to run down the halls screaming, "STOP DROP AND ROLL OR YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIEEEEEE!"

Shopping. Ya. You betcha.

We were going to hang out with La's friend Kaitlyn today, but alas, Kaitlyn was sick. I felt like La and I were due for some mother-daughter bonding time ... and what better place to bond than the shops on Michigan Avenue? 

After ballet today, we walked a block to the bus stop, and sat down to wait for the 151. That's when I realized that I had accidentally dressed La in a Canadian Tuxedo. 

It was totally my fault, because she was wearing a cute pink top and a tutu with skinny jeans underneath. When we were about to leave, I ran into her room to grab a jacket. Since I wasn't physically LOOKING at her when I grabbed the coat, my mind failed to connect the dots. 

True, the tux may be a complete fashion faux pas, especially when you're headed to shop the Mag Mile ... But I wasn't about to turn around and go home to swap one of the denims for something not as denim-ish. THANK GOODNESS she insisted on wearing the tutu from Aunt Ashley. It really helped break up the monochromatic blue jean look.

ANYHOO. 

We went to a few shops, and ended our afternoon at American Girl. La so badly wants one of these dolls. However, there are four problems associated with this wish:

1. The dolls cost $90 each
2. Their "accessories" (day clothes, night gowns, books, bedroom sets) can add up to more money than the doll itself
3. The box CLEARLY states that they are intended for children ages eight and up
4. They are made of porcelain, and are very breakable (and knowing the magnitude of La's clumsiness, I don't think she will ever qualify to own anything made of porcelain)

So usually La ends up doting excitedly over all the DOLLS! AND CLOTHES! AND BEDROOM SETS! AND MINI WICKER CHAIRS!, and then we walk out empty handed.

This time, just for kicks, I asked La what doll she will choose when she's old enough and rich enough to obtain one. She walked around the store for a good 15 minutes, stopping to ask me each girl's name and background story (there are 14 or more dolls to choose from). I pointed out Kit Kittredge, who has an inspiring story of growing up during the Great Depression, using her resourcefulness to help save her father's business and her home. She's also the doll that looks most like La and myself. 

La turned her nose up at the blonde "Kit" and – after a moment's contemplation – decided firmly on Addy Walker, a slave child who has escaped into freedom along with her parents and brother.

And then she made me take this picture so that when she turns eight, we will remember precisely what Addy looks like and will easily locate her in the store.

Missin' the Heartland

This photo was taken a few weeks ago during our trip back to Cleveland. We were on a wagon ride up to a festival at the Fruit Farm. The day started out with sunshine and a light breeze. Within an hour or two, the sky was covered with a dark cloud and wind gusts were chilling us to the bone. 

I don't know why I'm writing about this, except that tonight, for some strange reason, I'm missing Ohio –– unpredictable lake-effect weather and all. This might be the first time I've felt homesick since we've moved here. Maybe it's because yesterday marked one full year at my job, and it's sinking in that this will be our home for a while. Or maybe it's because Aunt M deserted us and went to Florida to visit a friend. (lucky!)

Right now, I would love to be sitting on my parents' couch, sipping a nice glass of red wine. I just called my mom and found out she's having "the girls" over (my dad's in South America). That's right. My mother is having A PARTY tonight.

I guess I'm just really missing my mommy (and her party!). And I'll never be too old for that.

I hope the same is true for La someday.

The Princess Has Spoken

Here's the conversation that just took place in our living room:

La: "Mom, I'm THIIIIIIRRRRRSSSTY."

Me: "Hi Thirsty! I'm Friday. Want to come over Saturday and have a Sunday?"

La: "No. I'm REAAAALLLLY, REAAAALLLLY THIIIIIIRRRRSSSTY!"

Me: "Okay. Well. You can have water or milk or juice."

La: "Juice! Juice! Juice! ... (long pause) ... In a sippy cup!"

Me: "La, you know we only have the kind of juice that comes in a box. You can just drink the juice through a straw poked through the top of the juice box. Just like God intended."

La: "But you could poke a hole in the top of the box and then SQUIRT the juice INTO a cup!"

Me: "Yes La. Indeed, I could do that. But if I did, it would push you into a whole new category of SPOILED ROTTEN."

I stood in line for an hour and voted today

... And I didn't just do it for the free cup of Starbucks™.

Now, La and I are just waiting in anticipation.

I won't say who I voted for, but I will say this:

Barack Obama could be a Swenson. I see it all the time in his face. Look here ... Doesn't my uncle Mark look just a teeny-tiny bit like him?

Chicago Tribune photo by Pete Souza

The cat and the bat ... and the Crayola magenta crayon

This year, my work friend Angela invited La, Aunt M and I out to Oak Park for a Halloween bash at her home. She has two boys around La's age, who La has not stopped talking about since Friday. 

We trick-or-treated, we ate delicious food, and we met a bunch of really great people.

As you can see, La was a ferocious Bat Girl, I was a kitty, and (I'm kicking myself for not getting a photo of this) Aunt M was a magenta crayon. M won the "most creative costume" award in my book.

For some very bizarre reason, I did not get a full body shot of La in her batgirl costume with the mask on. You'll have to refer to the photos taken the day we got the costume to get the full effect of how rockin' bad (in a good way) she looked.

By the time we got around to taking the above photo, I had at least two (or three?) mugs of spiced warm wine in me (YUMMY) ... And La had about eight pieces of candy in her, which I'm sure you've already assumed from the FANATICALLY CRAZED expression on her face and the orange-ish goo around her mouth.

Yes, it was a good night indeed.