All Rileyed Up

The kids and I went to Irvine Regional Park today and met up with some friends (the ones responsible for our attending A Faery Hunt). Irvine Regional Park is what a park should be. There are trees to climb, grass to run as far as little legs can go, scads of squirrels to chase, multiple species of birds (including… wild parrots?), not to mention great park facilities like a duck pond, train, zoo, horses and ponies, and tons of other stuff.

The last time we met up with this particular friend at Irvine Regional, our kids collected acorns and feathers and other interesting natural finds (the oddly shaped stick, the unique colored leaf, etc). Steel trap of a memory that he has, The Boy requested before heading out the door that we bring a collecting bag for him to use. Upon arriving, the three kids immediately set off with their bags. Each of them promptly found a stick to tie their bag to and hold over the back of their shoulder, a la Huck Finn. Very cute. Not so cute were the things The Boy put into his bag.

Because Irvine Regional Park is so big and so fun, lots of people go there. Despite the number of trash cans provided by the city and the amount of money spent in general on marketing reasons to not pollute, there still seem to be a number of people out there who just can’t grasp the concept of putting the garbage in their hand into a trash receptacle, and instead find the ground a much more appropriate place for their discards.

While Little No Limit and Friend were off and looking for acorns, I noticed The Boy was hunting around the swing sets and walking path. I suggested to him he join his sister and friend and he said, “I’m picking up trash, mom.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m picking up trash so that the earth can be clean and the animals can have a place to live.”

Yes, he really said that. Yes, I had a witness. Yes, she and I both made that little mom-ish “oh, how cute” smile. And yes, I’m still smiling about it now.

Sigh.

It’s moments like that when I really do love being a mother.

Give a hoot, don’t pollute!

Mustang. Corvette. Camaro. Bel Air. Woodie. Barracuda.

What do these cars have in common? They were all ignored by Little No Limit today when we attended the San Clemente Classic Car Show . What did she point out instead? Dogs. Little dogs, big dogs, dogs wearing unfortunate outfits, and last but not least, dogs being carried around in what can only be described as Baby Bjorn for dog owners. It just goes to show, you can take a dog lover to a car show… and I have no idea what the rest of that saying is (possibly because I just started to make it up and then got lazy and didn’t finish it).

The Boy, however, did show an interest in the cars. We met up with a friend of his and between the two of them, they very animatedly discussed the function of a gear shift, whether or not a car was a good color, the precise location of the cotton candy booth, and how very cool the mammoth-size shark tooth fossil was at the Toll Roads informational booth (and to answer the question “What do Toll Roads and fossilized shark tooths have in common – about as much in common as they had with the free Frisbees the Toll Roads people were handing out).

There was other excitement going on at the car show today. In addition to your to-be-expected cover band musicians singing classic rock, there was also an In-N-Out truck (huzzah!), a farmers market ($5 orchids!), and, regrettably, absolutely no parking spots. Yes, indeed, I parked a good quarter-mile away. Ah well, the kids got good exercise.

The car show is always fun to walk around, because I love nothing more than checking out cool Mustangs. One day, I tell you, one day, I will have one to call my own. What can I say? I like muscle cars. I don’t exactly know why either. It’s not as though I was alive during that time period and it’s not as though I particularly like the idea of using so much extra gas or cars without shoulder belts. It’s all about image, I suppose. Simply put, I think these cars are cool. And I am cool. Hence, I should drive one. Had I only been alive back in the day. I’d have been so cool. Like these guys (without the “someone just died” fear):

P.S. To anyone wondering where my pictures are — I forgot my camera. So NOT cool…

The Boy lost his first tooth the other day. It was wiggling to the left and right to the point that blood would spurt, so Husband extracted it with a pair of tweezers (nothing like a few extra gross details to brighten up a blog post). We explained to The Boy how the Tooth Fairy (cue the magical music) would take the tooth while he slept and leave money (cue “well the best things in life are free…”).

I gave little thought to the “how much do you leave for a tooth?” concerns and just slipped a dollar under his pillow. In the morning, he woke me by waving around his dollar bill chanting/yelling, “The Tooth Fairy came! The Tooth Fairy came!” Mind you, this may sound cute, but it’s not nearly so endearing when it’s in your face waking you up. But I digress.

I promised The Boy he could use the money to buy a treat for himself after school. Sure enough, the moment he was off the school bus in the afternoon, the only question he asked was “When are we going to buy my treat?” I took him to the store, where The Boy bought himself a popsicle.

Naturally, when we got back home, Little No Limit wanted to know where her popsicle was. I gently explained to her that this was The Boy’s special treat that he had bought for himself with his Tooth Fairy money (and yes, I am fully aware of the irony that Tooth Fairy money was spent on a sugar-laden popsicle). Little No Limit handled the news rather well, seeing as I expected a tantrum and instead just got a silent nod.

The next morning, however, I was again woken by the chanting/yelling of a child. This time, though, the refrain was “The Tooth Fairy didn’t come! The Tooth Fairy didn’t come!”

I realized at that moment that Little No Limit had not fully grasped the whos, whats, and — in particular — whens, of the Tooth Fairy. I re-explained to her that she had not yet lost a tooth and that is why the Tooth Fairy didn’t come.

She tearfully told me, “But I left (sniff) the Tooth Fairy (magical sigh followed by a sniffle) a picture.”

Dear Tooth Fairy,

Please accept this lovely watercolor painting. I’m sure it will add a much-needed dose of color to your teeth collection.

Best,

Little No Limit

P.S. You do realize this isn’t free? Artists cannot live on paint, after all. We live on popsicles.

Continuing with the umbrella theme I started in my previous post, we’ve moved from singing in the rain to skating in the rain…

The Boy brought this home a few weeks ago and I just love it. Makes me want to do arts and crafts time all the time. As well as sing “I’m singing in the rain, just siiiiinging in the rain, what a glorious feeeeeling…” (you get the picture)

See more artwork at 5 Minutes for Special Needs’ Magic Marker Monday.

I recently discovered that I can fit into my sister in law’s clothing. This may not sound like a big deal in and of itself, but I used to wear a size 16 and I recently put on my sister in law’s size 4 black dress. Yes, it was totally snug and I would have to remain standing in it at all times, but still, I put on a size 4 dress and zipped it up. My niece even commented on my appearance in it, “You have such a nice flat stomach for that dress.”

This is of course, not entirely true. The dress had a nice cut to it. But I have also been working out. In the kitchen.

You read that right. In the kitchen.

About a month ago, I learned that GE started a “Strong as Steel” program, which is an exercise routine you can do in your kitchen with your kitchen appliances. Why spend money on some huge piece of exercise equipment that takes up space (and, if you’re lazy, eventually collects dust and serves as a testament to your laziness) when you can just use your oven, fridge, dishwasher, etc.

Here’s a video to explain it:

Now, when I first watched the above video, I admit, I laughed a lot. It seemed so silly. Plus, there’s something unnerving about recommending workouts for weight loss/body toning in the kitchen. But, I’m game for trying things out and I figured, if it worked, then I’d benefit, and if it didn’t, I’d be able to write something rude and funny about it.

And for real, it works. I’ve been doing these “Get Cut in Your Kitchen” exercises for 3 weeks now, and you can tell a difference. After all, teenage girls are telling me that I have a nice flat stomach…

I’m sure you want to see a before and after shot, but I’m waiting for that size 4 dress to go from “too snug” to “just right.” Just a few more weeks with my dishwasher perhaps…

From the Angels - White Sox game on Memorial Day. The guy was clearly safe, but seeing as the White Sox slaughtered the Angels 17-3, I was thrilled to see that inning come to an end.

Two things you should know about the morning bus pickup: the bus usually arrives between 8:50 amd 9am to pick up The Boy, and at 8:55am, I needed to use the bathroom in such a serious not-number-one kind of way that I was clutching my stomach and trying to avoid sudden motion.

Any reasonable person would have just gone into the house and used the bathroom, but like my stomach, I can sometimes behave unreasonably. I stood outside waiting for the bus because I just knew that if I went into the bathroom, the bus would arrive right when I sat down. And who can comfortably take the Browns to the SuperBowl when there’s a bus driver honking his horn outside?

So I’m standing out there, humming, trying not to think of phrases like “dropping the kids off at the pool” or “the turtle’s head is poking out”, and the minutes continue to p-a-s-s. My thoughts move towards regret. Why did I have that extra cup of coffee, why?!!!! I’m now fantasizing about running into the house and going to the bathroom, bus honks be damned! The Boy interrupts my thoughts and asks me if I’ll help him climb atop and walk along the two foot wall that separates our driveway from the sidewalk and street. “I can’t,” I say. “Mommy has to go potty.”

Well, more minutes continue to pass, and I decide the driver is clearly late and I have every right to go in and use the bathroom. So I walk inside, but still fearing the bus honk (it must be a mental thing — why do I fear it?), I call school transportation first to confirm he is running late and hasn’t instead forgotten us.

The transportation rep confirms my driver is runnning late and draws out our good-bye with helpful comments like “Let me see here, maybe I can find out when exactly he’ll get there, I just need to call–”

“No, no, it’s okay!” I say, hoping I don’t sound as hysterical as I feel, “I’ll just wait outside, gotta go, bye!” I hang up and make a run for the bathroom, where I do my business to the tune of The Boy knocking on the door and saying things like, “Mommy what are you doing?” “Are you going poo poo?” (followed by snickering) and “Mommy are you done yet?”

Ah, glorious world of parenting.

No sooner do I finish up than the phone rings. It’s bus transportation and they tell me the driver is outside my house, where he has been for five minutes.

What?

“I-didn’t-hear-anything-are-you-sure-well-nevermind-I’ll-just-go-outside-sorry-thanks-bye.”

I rush to the front with The Boy and there is nothing on the street. I call transportation back, and the rep is like, “He is out there right now waiting for you.”

I say, “I’m standing outside, and I can see up and down the street. There is no one here.”

“Hang on.”

More of those walkie talkie sounds that I always hear in the background when I call school transportation. She gets back on and says, “Sorry, I guess he wanted us to tell you he was on his way. He’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

Ten minutes come and go. It is now 9:30, the time when Kindergarten starts.

I call transportation again. “Hey, is the bus coming here?”

Pause of silence. “He’s not there yet?”

About 9:45pm, the bus finally arrives. Mr. Bus Driver explains that the big hold up was on account of a jammed wheelchair ramp. He had to wait for someone to bring him a replacement bus. “I hope this didn’t cause any problems for you,” Mr. Bus Driver says.

And what does The Boy say?

“Mommy really had to go potty.”

I don’t know about you, but I love a good challenge. The Double Daring Book for Girls recently came out and it is chock full of truths, dares, double dares, triple dares, and even the dreaded triple dog dares. What does that even mean? While the obvious audience of young girls attending slumber parties is a no brainer for this book, it should also be known that there’s a lot of fun here for adult women too.

Case in point, I attended a mom’s night out at a friend’s house not too long ago. I had just gotten the book and had been flipping through it, randomly exclaiming “Oh my gosh! I can do that!” or “Hey! I did that once!” (or in the case of surfing, “Dude, it is just not that easy”). I decided to bring the book with me to the moms night, and it turns out, I am not the only gal out there who likes a challenge.

Nine women spent the evening drinking wine and eating hors d’ouerves and flipping through that whole book. We discussed the things that used to keep us awake at night when we slept over our friends’ houses in high school, and found that most of us still have a keen interest in these same subjects. And thanks to my friend’s well-stocked toy closet, we found ourselves attempting things we haven’t done in a while:

Hula Hooping: I failed miserably at hula hooping anyone under the table, and instead chose to brag that my sister in law would have smoked all of them if she’d been at the girls night. No lie – she could easily hoop for 15 minutes straight.

Tying a sarong: I rocked this one. Oh yeah. I can not only tie faster than anyone, I knew ways to wear a sarong that weren’t even in the book. Call me straight off the islands, baby!

Dreams and their meanings: I learned that one of my friends thinks she is above it all (I can still hear her arguing “That’s not what it means!” while the rest of us laughed) and we all learned that nightmares have nothing to do with horses.

Moon and Moon Lore: We quizzed one another on lunar fact and fiction and found out not a single one of us know anything about the moon. In other news, none of us are astronomers (though a couple follow astrology).

Playing the harmonica: following raiding the toy closet for the hula hoop, we attacked it again for a lime green, sort of transparent harmonica. Everyone kept insisting on wiping it down with an antibacterial wipe after using it, which really left a bad taste on my lips (I don’t recall being nervous about germs like that when I was a kid). Anyways, it turns out one of my friends can actually play the refrain from Piano Man – it’s the only thing she knows how to play and it took her a while to remember it, but still pretty impressive seeing as the rest of us just know how to make noise.

Charades: The evening ended with a massive game of charades during which every single one of us told a charades memory from our childhood (mine being the time my brother answered Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde within seconds of my other brother performing the answer).

As for the next girls night? We all agreed that the book should come back. In some ways, it’s more fun than Bunco. On the other hand, you can win money from Bunco. So take your pick: money or fun. Because if I have to bet on who has better calligraphy, I’m not betting on myself…

For more information:

Visit the Double Daring Book for Girls website here.

Buy the book here.

I also reviewed their first book, The Daring Book for Girls, here.

The Boy’s open house was a couple nights ago. I was presented with a magnificent folder full of artwork (it’s not even all in this photo). There were farm animals and storybooks, a diary and a journal, children’s art renderings of famous masterpieces, and a very hungry caterpillar. Of all of this, I’m most thrilled with the storybook The Very Hungry Kindergartener, about a boy who ate 1 cookie, 2 muffins (gluten, egg, and dairy-free of course), 3 carrots, 4 watermelons, and 5 lollipops. This is, coincidentally, an actual meal plan in this house.

This post contributed to Magic Marker Monday.