Thursday Evening Jam Session

La and I spent a good hour tonight rocking out to real rock classics like Hannah Montana, Celine Dion and Jewel. 

I would show you more footage, but I don't think the Internet is ready for that degree of HARDCORE.

A few brilliant rays ... and butterflies and princesses too.

Along with the rest of the world, I have been a bit stressed lately. Work is especially crazy (which I should be thankful for because it means I'm employed) and I'm SO OVER this "winter" baloney.

But tonight, when I was feeling overtired and just plain frazzled, La cheered me up by simply being herself. 

An excerpt from a conversation between two of La's barbies that I overheard this evening:

Barbie #1: Oh, Mom! I just love you so much!

Barbie #2: Sweetheart, dear, I love you too!

Barbie #1: But, mom, I have an ... an ... ADDICTION!

Barbie #2: OH NO!

Barbie #1: I just can't stop watching Barbie and the Diamond Castle

Barbie #2: Oh Darling! How TERRIBLE!

... and then the two of them continued to discuss rainbows and buttercups and ponies and various other ADDICTIONS.

Another thing that made me smile tonight is looking at these drawings La did on Sunday. The yellow smiley face with two E's above it is a moose (as you can plainly see) and the thing she is in the process of drawing is a rabbit. 

After dinner tonight, I was working and La was playing so nicely by herself, while Enchanted played in the background. 

This footage cracks me up ... It's a prime example of her inability to focus on one thing at a time. I have the same problem, and so does my mom. I think they call it "Adult ADD."

And another one bites the dust

When I was about four or five years old, my parents rented the movie Old Yeller for me to watch. Little did they know that this thoughtless decision (Honey, what shall we rent for the children to watch on this lovely Friday evening? Ooooh, look! Old Yeller has not been taken! Goodness, dear let's snatch it right up! How lucky we are!) would become one of my life's defining moments. The moment when I realized that all things must die. Dogs, birds, fish, lizards and even people. They all die. They're born, they live, and then THEY DIE ... and sometimes, OH DEAR, they are bitten by a rabid animal, begin to foam at the mouth, and then must take a bullet from a ten-year-old boy that they've considered family all of their life.

Walt Disney sure knows how to jerk those tears.

I spent much of my life wondering WHY? Why would anyone bring a movie like Old Yeller home to their impressionable four-year-old child to absorb over a bowl of popcorn? HAVE YOU PEOPLE NO SENSE? Even more tragic is the fact that The Old Yeller Incident has been referenced by my parents in a joking manner many times over the course of my upbringing: Oh, Kari's upstairs being dramatic again. She's crying her eyes out over a haircut I just gave her. You know, the one where I make her bangs extend all the way across her forehead from behind her ears? It's not that bad. But, the way she's carrying on, you would think I had forced her to watch Old Yeller or something!

Seriously.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tonight, La and I had a change in plans and ended up going to a movie for a little mommy-and-me "date." I looked through the movies that were playing at our neighborhood cinema, and saw that Marley & Me was one of the options. It's rated PG, so I knew the content would be okay for her, and — oh joy! — it's not a cartoon.

As the movie came to its bitter, depressing end, I sat there clutching La, both of us sobbing like blubbering fools ... and it occurred to me that this movie is a modern-day Old Yeller (alas, without the shotgun and the rabies). 

Indeed, I have done the same thing to my own child that my parents did to me.

And then — I kid you not — I laughed out loud right then and there at the thought of it. 

I am convinced that everyone in that theater thought I was stark raving MAD to be audibly crying, with my daughter's sobbing face shoved into my armpit, and then to abruptly snort out an uncontrolled, inappropriate laugh (a laugh that incidentally sounded EXACTLY like my mom sounds when she finds something suddenly profoundly funny and can do nothing but explode nasally).

But, if I've learned one thing from being a young single mother, it's to not care about what other people think.

I figure the time has come for me to accept the fact that my parenting is not perfect. I will not do everything right. I will make the same mistakes that I observed in my parents and promised myself I would never make. 

Except for the Homecoming mistake! I promise that I will not make La wait until she's a Junior in High School to attend Homecoming. Unless she's planning on going with a bunch of grungy druggies who smoke cigarettes or something. Then she'll have to wait until she's thirty, of course.

Another fact I have to accept is that I am slowly becoming an exact replica of my mother. 

But, that's a whole other blog posting.

SLIPPERS!

A couple of weeks ago, it was FRIGID in our house. Our building is about 100 years old, and all the windows are original. In short, it's drafty. Despite the windows' effort to keep the place cool, our condo is usually way too hot for comfort (due to a few freeze-babies that live in my building and insist that the furnace runs nonstop) — but it had dipped down to the -15 degree range outside, and for the first time ever, it was a bit nippy inside our place. 

La saw me bundled up in my long underwear, sweats, and slippers. She looked down at her own feet, and realized that she doesn't own any slippers. She had a few words for me regarding that matter, which made me feel so guilty that I immediately fired up my computer and let her pick a pair out online.

We went to my favorite online boutique, Etsy and did a search for children's slippers. (If you're not familiar with Etsy, it's a website that sells only handmade goods. But let me warn you: if you venture over to Etsy to "browse" for a while, you will most certainly become addicted. They sell everything. Pottery, clothing, handbags, fine art, jewelry, furniture ... EVERYTHING.) We found a shop called Goody Two Shoes that had purple slippers that La loved. When I placed the order, the instructions said to specify what color and size we wanted, because all of the shop's slippers are custom made after the order is placed. AND! They're only fifteen dollars. 

You heard me right.

Aren't they just divine?

The seller even included a pair of handmade leg warmers that match. 

Of course, La will not put the slippers on her feet, being that it's about 90 degrees in our house right now. 

But, if it ever gets cold in our house again, we will be armed with fashionable slippers.

My Friend James

Last night, I had the distinct pleasure of having one of my long-lost college friends over for a few too many glasses of wine. 

James and I lived in the same dorm during our freshman year of college (and now we live about five blocks from each other). We met in the laundry room of Dodds Hall. A few days later, James ran out to his car, and on the way back in — seeing that our door was open — stopped in for a quick chat. He was toting an armful of Mardi Gras beads, which both Meagan and I found a wee bit odd. And when he offered the beads to us (they would have complimented my green iMac splendidly, now that I think of it), Meagan and I confirmed in our minds that he was indeed a wee bit odd. In a good way!

Last night, James and I spent most of our reunion obeying La's commands to STOP TALKING AND WATCH THE MOVIE — and — reminiscing about that first eye-opening year of college. There was the sorority "crush" party that I invited him to ... that we showed up ENTIRELY too early for ... where I ate blue cheese dressing in front of him and almost made him vomit. There was his purple Acura Integra. There was Absolut Citron and crowd surfing at OAR concerts. There was the time I forced him to sit still at his desk for an hour, so that I could draw a detailed portrait of him ... And he's pretty sure I made him take his shirt off, which I do not recall. (this is not odd, considering I drew actual nude men and women every day in my drawing classes, some of whom were ninety years old and entirely hairless) There was the Asian Art History class that I convinced James enroll in, where the professor pronounced "kiln" like "keeeeln" and had a real bona-fide female rat tail. There was the song Hemorrhage by Fuel that James played incessantly on his big boxy computer. And there was the time James tried on pair of my Abercrombie jeans just to be funny and THEY LOOKED BETTER ON HIM. (the jeans never actually came up in our conversation last night, but I'm still peeved about the incident)

It's inconceivable that nine entire years have gone by since then. We've both gone through our shares of life-altering events since then. But, we picked up right where we left off, as if we were just sitting in my dorm room yesterday rocking out to Edwin McCain.

Setting the poor boy up for failure, if you ask me.

A recent article in Collegiate Baseball magazine has predicted YSU to finish third in the Horizon League and Aaron to repeat last year's feat to become the Horizon League 2009 Pitcher of the Year (you can read it here).

All I have to say about that is: Thanks a heap, guys, for jinxing my bro's upcoming season. NOT. COOL. AT. ALL.

If he throws out his shoulder during his first game, I will hold the editor of this magazine personally responsible, and he or she should expect to find his or her house covered in T.P., with a nice, heavy paper bag full of flaming dog poo greeting him or her at the doorstep.

We believe in you, Aaron. Good luck! (I won't even say break a leg)

Dancing Queen

Aunt M and Kate came over tonight, and we had chicken marsala followed by a real, true, bona-fide singing contest (inspired by American Idol). We all did exceptionally well, in my opinion. Except for La. She gave us the "angry brows" the whole time and sat in the corner of the kitchen, complaining that our music was making her ears hurt.

Stick-in-the-mud if I ever saw one.

This video from two nights ago proves that La's ears and the rest of her body do just fine with music. At least when Beyoncé is singing.

Presenting ... The Ice Goddess. In all her squishy splendor.

Saturday evening, La and I hopped on the bus to go ice skating. 

An observation I made while riding down to the rink with La: Being clad as an Oompa-Loompa while on the city bus has its ups and downs. The good thing about it is that random people smile at you and talk to you and tell you they want to EAT YOU UP YOU'RE SO CUTE, which can make you feel happy. The bad thing about it is that random people smile at you and talk to you and tell you they want to EAT YOU UP YOU'RE SO CUTE, which can make you feel a bit weird.

I think La was mostly weirded-out by all the cheek-pinchers this time. 

But, I have NO guilt for dressing her this way. None. I can't not put the Oompa-suit on her. It is imperative that I get to see her in that thing as many times as possible before she outgrows it. And I can't very well take her shopping or to a restaurant looking like a chubby marshmallow. So, each and every time we go skating, she will wear the suit. She will wear it and be glad. For it makes her mama SO HAPPY. 

Every time we go skating, we run into our ice skating friend Steve, who works at the rink on the weekends. He helps La with her skating and tells her in his New York accent, "You're doing so great!" ... even when she's not really doing that great. He gave us free hot chocolate this time and took this picture for me.

Here's a video showcasing a new trick that La learned. I must say, she's come a mighty long way.

The "Paint My Living Room 4 Times in One Year" chapter of my life is now complete.

It is finished! 

La and I were completely snowed in today, so I decided to give myself a literal pain-in-the-neck and paint my living room ceiling. It is now a darker shade of the walls, and I am loving every bit of the monochromatic blandness loveliness that the room exudes. HOW I LOVE GRAY. You can all sleep soundly tonight knowing that I am finally truly happy with my favorite room in my house.

Phew.

Another thing I should mention is that La had a serious breakthrough while I was painting. I had everything pushed toward the center of the room, and she was making a nest-home for her dolls among the furniture. She was cooing and whispering oh-so-sweetly to her little dolls, and I was losing myself in the sound of her voice as I painted. It was the perfect music for the job.

She suddenly stopped babbling to her dolls and looked up at me and announced, "I JUST LOVE BABIES." ... To which I replied, "Well, maybe you can be a pediatrician when you grow up. That's a baby doctor." And she said, "No mom. I want to be a MOTHER to lots and lots of babies."

This is huge, people.

Especially considering that a mere month ago, she would tack the following request onto each of her bedtime prayers ... "And please help me to NEVER EVER have a baby in my tummy. Please thank you amen."

I can sleep soundly tonight knowing that I will one day have lots and lots of grandbabies.

... On a completely unrelated note, I leave you with La's rendition of Celine's version of Beauty and the Beast (along with some freestyle voice warmup exercises). Just because it's THAT GOOD.

Oh yes. She's back.

Little La made it home safely last night. Her flight was delayed, and Aunt M and I waited anxiously at Midway until she arrived. 

It was the strangest feeling ... It was as though we were waiting to greet Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. Both of our hearts were pounding with excitement. And then we saw the suntanned little shrimp sauntering down the concourse with her Aunt Ashley. I can't describe how I felt when I saw her walking toward me. For some reason, I had it in my head that two-and-a-half weeks away would have been enough time for La to blossom into a five-foot tall pre-teen. I was prepared for her to be bigger and badder and more independent. But, she looked even smaller and sweeter than when I dropped her off at the airport. 

And then we hugged. And La and I both cried.

-------------------------------------------

Today, I worked from home so that La and I could spend a little time together before having to go back to our daily routine (and so that we could stay in our pj's until noon). For the first hour or so, she sat on my lap and snuggled with me as I typed away. 

She finally got bored with that (thank goodness) and remembered the easel that I got her for Christmas. (which Aunt M kindly put together for her last night)

I can't tell you how great it is to have her back. She keeps coming up to me and hugging me and telling me she's SO HAPPY to see me.

Alas, tomorrow is a real school day, and I've already had to convince La that she won't ABSOLUTELY DIE when I drop her off in the morning. I'm not sure what I'll have to bribe her with to get her to consent to a horrific day at school. Looks like someone's having rice crispy treats for breakfast tomorrow.

ONE MORE DAY TIL LA COMES HOME!

I know that I've been utterly delinquent in posting blog entries while La has been out of town. I have no excuse. Except for the truth. Which is that I really don't have a whole lot to say. 

I knew I would be able to sum most of it up in one posting, so here goes:

Heart-Stopping, MIND BLOWING Things I Did While La Was Away (in no particular order):

• Threw away La's Halloween candy. (Finally. Gosh.)
• Cleaned my house.
• Found buried treasure in my couch cushions.
• Purged La's clothes, her toys, my clothes, and random stuff around the house, filling roughly 15 large garbage bags ... and then took them all to a donation box in the Aldi parking lot.
• Accidentally smacked into a parked car in an effort to avoid an oncoming conversion van — thereby removing the poor little parked car's mirror (Whoopsies! I left a note, but they did not call yet.)
• Ate Taco Bell whenever I passed one.
• Went out with my Milwaukee relatives for a real Friday Night Fish Fry, complete with all the fixin's and plenty of Miller Lites.

• Flossed my teeth.
• Drank the best margarita of my life at Mayan Palace.
• Looked at pictures of La on my computer.
• Cried because I missed that little nugget and kept crying because I COULD NOT STOP LOOKING AT THOSE GOSHDARN PHOTOS OF HER.
• Bought my first pair of skinny jeans (who cares!?), which I swore I would never buy the minute I first laid eyes on them over a year ago.
• Painted my living room for the 4th time in one year (I'm not kidding at all). I've learned so much from this living-room-painting experience. Mainly, that I don't like color on walls. I like GRAY. Isn't it pretty? (still have to do the ceiling in a darker shade of the wall color, hence the blue tape. I know. Getting CRAZY with the shades of gray. Somebody please stop me.)

• Ran 3 miles on a treadmill barefoot. (WHY?)
• Went to the grocery store and DID NOT buy any juice boxes.
• Partied with some great friends and Aunt M for New Year's Eve.

• Went out a few more times and drank a little too much.
• Ate various forms of meat and didn't care.
• Got a little crazy and parted my hair on the wrong side ... and immediately made a pact with myself that I would never make THAT mistake again.
• Got photo-bombed by Phil.

• Hung out with two of my favorite people, Meagan and Mark, who visited for a few days.
• Taught Meagan a really neat trick that might change her life. (don't ask me what it is unless you REALLY want to know)
• Filed AND painted my toenails. (dream big!)

• Missed my little La like mad.
• Discovered that I'm not complete without her.
• Wondered repeatedly what I ever did with myself before she was born.

La, I'm ready for you. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. I'm going to kiss you and hug you and squeeze you until you tell me to back the heck off and get ahold of myself.

Bring it.