A stop for lunch

We stopped for a late lunch at Split Pea Anderson's. Wouldn't it be
great if all restaurants had big old toy stores at the entrance? And
when I say great, I mean painful.

Disneyland, here we come!

The plan was to leave at 8am but as usual, we were running a bit
behind. Finally in the Eurovan, we quickly discovered the a/c wasn't
working.

Umm, it's a long drive and it's HOT. We visited the VW dealer, who,
told us a few hours later that they wouldn't be able to get the
necessary part until Tuesday. Oh and it will cost around $1850. Yay!

While Scott was at the shop, I was searching around for a mini-van to
rent. Trying to rent a mini-van at the last minute is not as easy as I
expected. Sold out! We did find an SUV for about $700 but then Scott
thought about his truck. Scott's mom is with us and we've got too much
stuff to fit in either of our cars.

So here we are, in Scott's Dodge Dakota. The girls and I are crammed
into the undersized backseat. That's cherry juice on Alyssa's
forehead, not blood. We're about five hours behind schedule, but we're
on our way!

Blast from the past

In response to my post about the Ding-a-ling sisters, my niece, Courtney, said this:

You totally get to be Farrah.

I swear, every time I am having a really good hair day--I am grateful that I took your advice when I went to the hairstylist. You were the one who told me to make sure I looked really cute, dressed nice and actually did my hair before my appointment with a new stylist so she would be sure to give me a cute, sassy do. I took to heart that warning that if I showed up frumpy looking at a salon, I just might leave looking even frumpier.

Now that I'm thinking about it...was that actual personal advice that you gave to ME, or was that a blog post? I take these things very personally.

Anyway. Love your hair, love your blog, love-love-love it!!!

Thanks, Courtney! So my first thought was really? I gave hair advice? Good hair advice? I thought about it for a bit and then it started to come back to me... I couldn't remember exactly but vaguely recalled that it had something to do with an embarassing story, as usual. Since I don't throw anything away, within moments, a quick email search turned up the letter that follows. To answer your question, Courtney, it was personal advice... well sort of... it was written just for you... the fact that you turned my embarassing story into words of wisdom well, go Courtney.

I was cracking up at how much my descriptions of almost two-year-old Amanda reminded me of almost seven-year-old Amanda. Her flair for dramatic story-telling started long ago, it seems. (Maybe she got that from you, Courtney.) When I noticed that I'd written the letter exactly five years ago yesterday. I decided, why not? I'm positing it. So here's a slightly edited version of the letter I wrote to my niece when she was in Kansas City. The photo is Amanda in my mom's yard, at almost two.

July 14, 2004

Dear Courtney,

I know, I know...you didn’t really expect me to finally come through with an actual letter after that last one, did you? Well here I am. How is life in Kansas City? Are you having fun? I think it’s so cool that you’re doing this! Did I already tell you I’m proud of you? Well I am. I sure hope you’re feeling better after your car accident. Let me tell you that hearing you’d been in an accident scared me just about half out of my mind. Like I told your mom, I only started breathing again after I heard you were okay and now that I have a kid of my own I’m trying to imagine how you can ever send your children out into the world without first wrapping them in a giant roll of bubble wrap. But thankfully, you’re okay...life goes on and you just can’t worry about this kind of stuff or you’ll go crazy.

So on to less scary topics, I can’t believe how lucky you are to have a guy in your building who will make you cappuccinos or whatever for $1. What a deal! Especially since you don’t even have to leave home. Scott makes the occasional mocha or frappuccino for me, but not nearly as often as he used to. And I’m still slightly traumatized over a somewhat recent coffee-buying incident. It was after the last time I got my haircut - and I was feeling very hip & cool (please note that I rarely feel this way in real life, but I read once that hairdressers will sometimes take their queue from how you're dressed, so I always try to dress well for my hair appointments because I have this secret fear that I will walk in dressed how I normally do and the hairdresser will make this immediate judgment, "Hmm... dresses like a geek so I will give her the geek haircut.") Anyway so I'm dressed in my best attempt to look cute and my haircut turns out cute (see, it works!) so I'm attempting to act like I'm hip & cool in real life and I walk out of the salon and go next door to this coffee place, Peets, where your mom and I used to go all the time during lunch when she worked in San Ramon.

There’s a very long line, which is okay because it gives me time to practice being hip & cool. Finally I order their version of a mocha frappuccino (a mocha freddo, but I probably don’t have to tell you that) and the guy piles it high with whipped cream and then hands it to me without a lid or a straw, both of which, I need desperately for the car trip home. The straw container is empty so I ask the guy at the counter for a straw and while I'm waiting I see that all of the lids are flat, which, as you might guess, is not going to work with the 2 1/2 inches of whipped cream, so I attempt to drink enough of the freddo so that I can get a lid on. Let me tell you, it's kind of hard to drink a full one of these things without a straw and still maintain the hip & cool charade. I end up with whipped cream all over my nose and can actually feel the hip & coolness rapidly draining from my body.

When I try to put the lid on I discover that I haven’t drunk quite enough of the freddo so it spills down the side of the cup and all over my hand forcing me to fumble for napkins, and even then, the lid doesn't fit. Can you explain to me how it can be so hard to find a lid that fits when you’re in a hurry at a coffee place?

And to think that I roll my eyes when Scott yells from the kitchen that he can't find the correct lid for the correct random Tupperware container of which there are approximately 50 zillion... "Where's the lid for the white bowl with three sections?" Yes, I know there are 50 zillion possibilities, but I still feel the need to be kind of snotty when I reply, "Umm... probably in the LID Drawer, where we keep ALL of the lids. It’s the hot pink one with the round handle thingy." And again I roll my eyes. DUH!

It’s been a really long time since I’ve taken a math class so I’m not sure how to figure out the number of possible combinations you would have to try before you just accidentally happened across the correct lid, but it reminds me of one of those pop quizzes your Grandpa Nelson was always throwing at me when I was a kid...There are 26 sheep and one dies... or, I guess the one that applies here is the one about getting dressed in the dark. If your drawer contains 10 black socks and 12 blue socks, how many socks do you have to take out of the drawer before you know you have a matching set? So if you have 50 zillion containers and 50 zillion lids, how many do you have to try...?

Yes, it humbles me when there are only three sizes of lids and three sizes of containers at the coffee place and I still can't make any of them fit my drink. I fumble for what feels like an eternity, wondering if anyone in the very long line is watching me and snickering thinking, hmm... I can't believe I thought she was hip & cool.

I never do get the lid to fit, but I want out of this place badly, so I head for the exit and as I open the door, a hard wind hits me and in an instant my hip & cool hair style is gone and I know I'll never get it to look hip & cool again despite the overpriced hair products I have purchased in my hopefulness. My hair is whipping around my head wildly now and it briefly impairs my vision. I stumble slightly trying to move out of the way for someone and spill the freddo down my leg... And this is why the idea of $1 coffee drinks without leaving home sounds like such a dream come true to me.

Anyway, we had a good time at your grandma’s house last week. After spending four days in Berryessa during which her cousins attempted to teach Amanda how to dance the “cool” way, we headed to Grandma’s where we listened to a chicken-dance polka CD pretty much non-stop for almost a week. Please note that though, as I have already explained, I am not cool, I have a fairly good idea that flapping your wings like a chicken is probably not cool and I’m thinking that polka music is most definitely not at all cool or even remotely hip. Please tell me if I’m wrong.

The week started out with Mom noting that it seemed like maybe Amanda was ready to switch from sippy cups to regular cups. Amanda spent the rest of the week making her eat her words. Constant spillage goin' on... let me tell you, and this was our drinks not Amanda's...cuz no way do I think she's ready for a grown-up cup. But she was forever asking for a "Sipppppp!" from ours. Yes, she has definitely mastered the art of drinking from a cup. But she also enjoys washing her hands in cups... submerging spoons or whatever happens to be available into cups... splashing happily in cups... watching the liquid flow out of the cups as she pours them onto the floor... and then watching us clean up the wet mess from the cups... frequently somehow managing to find more liquid from the cups to spill on the newly-dried floor.

Grandma also caught her dipping her hands into Hannah's water bowl and then licking her fingers... and later dipping her toothbrush into Hannah's water when she was ready to brush. Yes, I know...Gross! Grandma agreed that it was gross too but also immediately commented that she was worried about Hannah’s water being contaminated! I’m not totally sure that she was kidding either.

Amanda is really starting to talk more and more too. I’ll try to teach her how to say “Courtney” by the time you get home. She imitates everything we say and comes up with the occasional 3 or 4 word sentences. This still floors me every time! She says "Where did cat go?" or "Daddy is asleep." and I just fall all over myself thinking how unbelievable it is that she's talking like this when we only brought her home from the hospital for the first time like, you know, three days ago or something. How can she be almost TWO?

Unfortunately her new favorite phrase is "Oh gawd." After all my years at El Sobrante Christian School learning how awful it is to say this, I still cringe...and I spell it differently so I can feel less horrible but it doesn’t work. Apparently it’s something she must have picked up last week from either Mom or me. (Oooops!) And now she walks around saying it as if she's raging with emotion when anything even slightly bad happens. Like I'll swoop down to move my soda out of her reach a millisecond before she gets it... or the toy she's playing with falls to some place out of her reach and suddenly she's crying like a little old lady, "Oh gawd...oh GAWWWWWWWWWWD!" as if it's the most horrible thing that's ever happened to her. And I keep trying to suggest, “Oh boy” or “Oh gosh” as a replacement.

She also walks around repeating phrases over and over again. It makes me giggle because she reminds me of a tiny little actress running her lines...and she changes things up slightly each time. Yesterday when I thought I heard his truck pull up, I asked her if Daddy was home and then immediately answered my own question...No... And for several minutes she repeated the scene with different tones and timing..."Is Daddy home? No? Is --- Daddy --- home? No! Is Daddy --- Home! Noooo---oooooo!"

I’m enclosing a few pictures of Amanda watering Grandma’s plants (and herself) last week. Grandma always makes it sound like it’s such hard work. Maybe if she stripped down to her underwear she’d have as much fun as Amanda did. Got a good mental picture going? Okay, now I have to run. Thanks for your letters. You’re a sweetie!

Love you lots,
Aunt Dione

I'm on Shutterfly!

Well, many of you have asked when the results from my big (non) celebrity (non) super-model photo-shoot would show up on the Shutterfly website. The answer is: now! I can't seem to get a direct link but if you go here and then click on "Get inspired" you'll find it. That's me holding the book I made for my brother, Danny's, 40th birthday. Kind of fun that they chose the pages with all those family photos. They also used a couple of quotes. Here's the rest of my interview, in case anyone is interested...

How did you feel while making the books? What was your motivation for making the book?

I love the planning part. It’s so much fun to think about making a gift that you know will make the recipient happy. For my sister’s “Look out Fifty, Here I come!” book, I was inspired by another book in the gallery, “A Drummer Looks at 40." I was really excited about the idea of putting a really positive spin on a milestone birthday that I wasn’t sure she was particularly looking forward to. I wanted her to know how truly amazing we all think she is. That 50 didn’t mean she was old, it just meant she’d had 50 years worth of experiences that turned her into the incredible woman she is now. It can be time-consuming to create a contribution album but it is absolutely a labor of love and even in the most frustrating moments I know it’s one of the most meaningful things I’ll ever do.

How did you feel when you gifted the book?

Presenting the photobook is always my favorite part. That first moment of surprise is the best. It makes every second of hard work worthwhile. I love to watch them flip through the pages. In my experience, people are always extremely moved to receive a photo book. They are amazed that someone took the time and effort for them. My mom always tells me I should add a box of Kleenex to the gift because, more often then not there are tears, and there is always a lot of laughter.

How often do you make photo books?

That’s kind of a tough question to answer because I feel like in some ways, I’m always making photo books, even if I haven’t actually started any in Shutterfly. Most of the time I’m working on at least one book, and usually several, in my head. I make a year-in-review album every year and I give copies to the grandparents for Christmas. I’m currently working on a book about our family traditions, one about my hopes and dreams for my daughters and several others too.

Do you often give photo books as gifts?

Shutterfly photo books are my favorite gifts to give. They’re perfect for any occasion. I’ve made them for wedding showers, baby showers, birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas. I’ve made them as thank you gifts for teachers and I even made an “I’m sorry” album for my mom, to apologize, in a humorous way about all I put her through as a kid.

Why do you make photo books?

There are many reasons I make photo books… the practical ones, of course, like I want a way to get our photos out of boxes or off of my hard drive so that we can look at them and share them with friends and family. I make photo books because as a stay-at-home mom, there are very few things I do that don’t need to be redone within a day or more likely an hour… laundry, housework, meals, baths… but photo books are something that hopefully will stick around for a very long time.

I make photo books because our memories are precious and I want to capture those memories in a meaningful way... not just the big moments, but the little ones. The everyday moments are the ones that I think I’m going to miss the most one day and sometimes photos have the miraculous power to transport me back in time even if only for a second. I make photo books because it reminds me to appreciate all those little moments while I’m right in the middle of them.

I make photo books because I feel like everybody has a story that deserves to be told and I seem to be the designated storyteller in our family. I make photo books because there are some things that need to be said that I’m not sure I’d be able to say in any other way. I make photo books because I have to. Because after making the first one, I became completely hooked and now it’s not really a choice for me, it’s just something I have to do.

I make photo books for a lot of reasons but ultimately it all boils down to this: I make photo books because I want the people in my life to know that they matter to me. There are a million different ways to let people know that, but to me there’s something special and really almost magical about combining words and photos. I love that photo books are tangible… Something that people can hold in their hands and return to again and again. I know it sounds sappy, but my hope is that when people flip through the pages of my photo books they will feel how important they are to me. I make photo books because I want the people I love to know that I love them.

The Ding-a-Ling Sisters

For as long as I can remember, my dad called Denise, Darin and I the Ding-a-ling Sisters. My oldest sister, Deni, wasn't wild about the nickname, possibly because she thought it made us sound like... well,ding-a-lings... But I loved the nickname and wore it proudly. Partly because I loved being grouped with my older sisters who I completely idolized, and partly because every now and then my dad would explain how he came up with the nickname.

As the story went, a long time ago there was a TV show that had a group of girls called the "Ding-a-ling Sisters". They were smart and beautiful and funny and whenever they got together they laughed a whole lot. My dad said that's exactly how he saw his daughters, so that's how we became the Ding-a-Ling Sisters.

I never saw the show, of course, so in my growing-up-in-the-70's-brain I imagined the Ding-a-ling Sisters show as kind of a cross between Three's Company and Charlie's Angels. Three beautiful sisters appearing slightly clutzy and dingy, but secretly, sharp as tacks, fighting a life of crime in matching jumpsuits and boots.

I'm not sure what made me think to do it, but the other day I typed "Ding-a-ling Sisters" into the youtube search engine and suddenly there they were! The actual Ding-a-ling Sisters, four of them, not three... and guess what?!? They were wearing matching jumpsuits and boots! They weren't fighting crime though. They were singing and dancing in some comedy routine with Dean Martin. Now I'm sure my dad probably mentioned the singing and dancing thing but I must have forgotten. Anyway, it was kind of cool to actually finally see them as my dad might have seen them. Not sure how he decided they were smart but they were beautiful.

I almost wonder if I made up the smart part. Though it doesn't matter because I've never doubted that my dad thought we were smart and beautiful and my sisters are still the ones who can make me laugh until I cry. We do have the occasional ding-a-ling type moments too... like the time we must have stopped to ask for directions at least three times one night, each time politely thanking the person, rolling up the window and then saying, "Did anybody actually understand what he said?" so I continue to wear the Ding-a-ling title proudly.

I think I like my Three's Company/Charlie's Angels version a little more though than the real show. Sorry, Darin and Deni but I get to be Farrah. I didn't spend my entire 3rd grade year sleeping on pink spongy rollers for nothing. I am so prepared for that part. By the way, my dad also claimed that if it was quiet enough he could hear bells ring when we shook our heads. Lord knows how many hours of my childhood were spent alone in my bedroom shaking my head and straining to hear those bells. (Thanks, Dad.) But please take a moment to picture me, running in slow motion with my smart and beautiful sisters. I'm shaking my bouncy Farrah-hair like a Breck girl and if you're really, really quiet you can hear the faint peal of bells.

One from Amanda

Right after I was whining about not being able to share Amanda quotes, my friend shared one from today. Amanda wasn't around to ban it from the blog. (Insert evil laughter here.)

Tomorrow is baseball day at school. The kids will not only be playing baseball, but they're supposed to wear something baseball-related and bring something baseball-related to share. Do I look like I have any baseball stuff? Nope! So my friend was nice enough to help us out. She tried a baseball cap on her daughter and surprised it still fit, said, "Wow, your head is small." Then she tried it on Amanda and said, "Wow, your head is big!"

Amanda replied, "Yeah, that's 'cause I've got a lot of stuff in there."

Quote of the day

Alyssa, as she climbs the ladder on the loft bed, stops me in my tracks before I can say a word: "I'm bein' careful... even though I don't wanna be."

By the way, if you've noticed a lack of Amanda quotes lately, it's not because she's stopped saying funny stuff. It's just that as soon as I laugh that certain laugh she looks at me and says, "You're not gonna put that on your blog, are you? If you do, no more foot massages for a month!" Thank goodness Alyssa can't read yet.

Quote of the day

Alyssa: "Mommy, help! Come quick! Me and Jaden are in danger!!!"

Me: "What's wrong?"

Alyssa, handing me a Barbie: "I can't get her dress on!"

Me: "I thought you said you and Jaden were in danger."

Alyssa: "We are! We're playing house. That's the living room, that's the bedroom and this (spreading her arms to indicate the area we're standing in), this is danger!"


I'm just guessing we were in the kitchen. The kitchen scares me too.

The Kite Festival on Random Photo Tuesday

Scott has a thing for kite-flying so we've been going to the kite festival for years... Technically there's the Art & Wind Festival in San Ramon (every May) and the Kite Festival in Berkeley (every July) but to me they're both Kite Festivals and we usually go to at least one of them every year. We went this weekend and it was fun, as usual, except that for some reason they didn't do the big candy drop. That's Amanda's favorite part. Because what's not to love about candy falling from the sky? WHY didn't they do the candy drop? I have no idea, but Amanda was wildly disappointed. Until we found the cotton candy.Last week Amanda asked me some question that prompted me to get out the journal I kept when I was pregnant with her. I ran across the entry below, in which I talk about the kite festival... and since this is my blog, I'm sharing it:

May 31, 2002

Dear Baby,

These last few weeks with you have been the most fun of all, I think. I can feel you moving around and kicking on a regular basis so I can worry less about you and instead, just revel at the wonder of you. Sometimes I sit in front of my computer at work grinning like a fool because I feel you flip-flopping around and I know that anyone who walks by and sees me might think I'm crazy. But who cares? How lucky am I, that for me, every day is "Bring your baby to work day."

I probably worry more than ever now though when I don't feel you move for a while. Your daddy and I went to the Art and Wind Festival on Monday. I spent much of the time thinking about how fun it will be when we can bring you in a couple of years. Maybe it was because we were walking through a sea of strollers, but I couldn't stop thinking about you...imagining you at the petting zoo playing with the goats, imagining getting you wired on your first cotton candy, imagining your daddy teaching you how to fly your first kite. We stopped for ice cream and then headed home, and it was then that I realized that I hadn't felt you move all day.

I remembered hearing that doing a lot of walking can lull the baby into deep sleep so I decided not to panic. But a few hours later I tried to gently wake you up by jostling my stomach and then I jumped up and down a few times, saying, "Hey Baby, it's time to wake up!" But nothing.

That night I must have woken up at least fifteen times relieved for a second that I'd finally felt you moving and then believing the next second that maybe I'd only dreamed it.

I woke up long before I was supposed to that next morning and didn't bother trying to fall back to sleep because I was so happy to feel you kicking at last. I jumped out of bed and your daddy asked, "Have you felt the baby kick?"

"Yep!" I was glad to know that he was worried about you too.

We've decided that if you're a girl we're going to name you Amanda. I hope you like it. I sent your grandma (my mom) an email saying that Amanda was one of my favorite names and she wrote back saying that my Grandma Nelson (your great-grandma) would have been thrilled for you to have that name because it was her mother's name. Then a few minutes later I got an email from your Grandpa Nelson (my dad), saying that Amanda is simply the best name in the world because it was the name of the Grandma he adored.

According to your Grandpa Nelson, your Great-Great Grandmother Amanda Larson Imsland was a wonderful grandma with a soft lap who gave gentle kisses.

All that enthusiasm sort of clinched it for me. I decided right then, that as long as your daddy didn't object, you would be named Amanda. But only if you're a girl, I promise!

Coming up with a boy's name is proving far more difficult. That and a middle name for Amanda are yet to be determined.

Last Friday night we went out for Mexican food with your Aunt Cara and we tossed around names for a while. Our favorite was Jake. What do you think of Jake?

I don't know. I like it because it's such a masculine name (which your daddy insists on!). I can already picture the girls swooning over Jake. But should it be "Jacob" and "Jake" for short? I'm really not as fond of the name Jacob.

Oh well, we'll figure it out. We still have a few months left to scour the name books. Unless you decide to come early, that is.

Monday morning at about 4am I must have woken up your daddy when I got up to go to the bathroom. When I came back to bed, we were talking and I told him that you were kicking like crazy.

Until then, he'd only felt some of your smaller, barely perceptible movements, so this time when he put his hand on my belly and felt you really bouncing around in there, he was shocked. He said, "Geez! What's it doing in there?!? I think it's trying to chew its way out."

That line struck me so funny that I couldn't stop laughing. I was trying to hold still so he could feel you kick some more but that only made it worse and I would laugh even harder. He was laughing too. I wonder if you were.

All along I'd imagined you as being perfectly content in there. Safe and secure without a care in the world. That's how my baby would be. But you're not just my baby, you've got your daddy's DNA too, and a baby of his may very well be bored out of his mind. Completely frustrated with the knowledge that he's missing out on all the excitement, and hatching a detailed escape plan.

I guess it's a good thing you don't have teeth, because if you did, you might be trying to chew your way out!

I love you, Baby!

Mommy

Now for your viewing pleasure, I pulled out some photos of us at kite festivals through the last few years. I'm sure I have a bunch more but these were the ones I was able to find easily.

2003, Amanda's first kite festival... chubby little thing, isn't she?
2005... I was pregnant with Alyssa in case you notice I was a chubby little thing:Before the candy drop:After the candy drop:
2006, Alyssa's first kite festival:
And finally, this year:

This last one is the scene that happened while we were unpacking the car. In the last few weeks, Amanda has started carrying this little red journal around with her and she stops frequently to write down whatever happens to be going on in her world. Of course I have absolutely no clue where she might have picked up such a habit but I LOVE IT. So maybe if she decides not to be a teacher or a massuese, she'll be a writer. Or she can be all three. That could work too.

Random Photo Tuesday

Just a few recent pictures from the last couple of weeks. The first few were taken in our backyard. The next two were taken at our friend, Brandon's, 7th birthday party and the last one was just one day when Alyssa stumbled into the living room half asleep, spotted the spare carseat and went right back to sleep.

It’s Random Photo Thursday!

Okay I know, I'm supposed to do this on Tuesday. I'm behind. What's new? Tuesday was not our best day here. Amanda had a friend over and lately when she has friends over she seems to think she can get away with things she normally wouldn't. We've had several talks about this but they haven't helped. I know this is partly my fault because, well… when her friends are around, I've let her get away with things she normally wouldn't .

I didn't want to be the mean mom so I've let things slide when I shouldn't have. Does that mean it's all my fault? Okay well anyway, we're both working on this. I'm trying to turn things around. Tuesday showed me I need to work harder at this.

Amanda had already been pushing the limits on Tuesday, when she finally pushed them too far. She and her friend went outside to play on the swings and when I went outside to check on them, Amanda said, "What do you want? Go back inside Old Lady."

(I'll give you a second to get over your pure shock and disbelief.)

I said, "Excuse me?" To which my delightful six year old replied, "Go back inside Old Witch."

(I know. You probably need another second to digest this. I did too.)

Yes, my completely adorable child called me an Old Witch.

Now in her defense, upon further consideration, I'm 98% certain that when she said it, this is the Old Witch she had in mind:

But since she didn't specifically refer to me as, "the kindest and most beautiful witch in all the land," I have to assume there was a possibility she was talking about one who resembles the one below, so I had to respond appropriately.
She'd never called me a name before, certainly not a mean one… and for the record, we were in the middle of a play date, so I was on my best mommy behavior (which is what got me into trouble in the first place) and certainly not acting like an old witch. Not saying it never happens but it wasn't happening then.

Anyway, it took me a while before I came to my senses and made Amanda's happy little world come to a screeching halt. I know, I know… Next time I'll act faster. This time I waited until her friend went home and then we had a very long chat. She said that she had no idea why she said what she did. She said she was trying to be funny. She also said she was sorry. She put on her brave face while I told her the consequences, which were in response to more than just being disrespectful and the name calling (lest you you think I was being too harsh in response to a first offense).

When Scott got home, Amanda ran to lock herself in the bathroom while I told him that she'd gotten into trouble. He asked why and I said, "Well for one thing, she called me an old lady."

His response: "So suddenly she's not allowed to speak the truth?"

Smart ass.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing and whispered, "United front. We're presenting a united front here. We are a team and We Will Not Laugh."

Then I explained to him that there would be no more play dates for the week. No treats. No TV… Scott stopped me there and said, "No TV? That means no American Idol!?!"

Yep. That's right.

He said, "Man, you're a mean old witch."

Now I ask you, do I look like a mean old witch?

So in happier news, Amanda is winding up first grade, counting the days until summer. She is also currently sporting her very first wiggly tooth! She's a little freaked out by it, because one of her friends told her it's going to hurt.

Today she'll be getting up in front of the class to give a report about what she wants to be when she grows up. Currently she wants to be a teacher, and the child is seriously dedicated to playing school. She's constantly setting up classrooms in various spots around the house. She says decorating and organizing the classroom is one of the very best parts of being a teacher. She's always writing out homework assignments, making reading lists, pulling in willing or unwilling students.

I regularly get progress reports for Alyssa. Alyssa doesn't listen. Won't pay attention. Won't stay in her seat. Always forgets to raise her hand before speaking. That Alyssa is a little delinquent, I tell ya. But Miss Amanda perseveres.

Amanda has other aspirations as well, one of which is to be a masseuse. Now hypothetically, would it be wrong if I were to encourage her in that particular pursuit over something more altruistic and world-changing mainly because she… hypothetically… gives me the best foot massages on earth? Did I mention that she actually begs me to let her give me foot massages? Hypothetically, of course. I know the world may need more teachers but Mommy needs foot massages too.

Alyssa is in normal Alyssa mode. Always so much fun to hang out with. For the record, she wants to be a dinosaur when she grows up. One of her favorite phrases is, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Trust me it's always fun to find out what she is thinking and very rarely am I thinking the same thing. Moments ago she was thinking that princesses should only wear white dresses and very tall shoes. Earlier it had something to do with monkeys eating cookies and before that it was something about kitty cats with balloons.

This is the conversation we had yesterday a moment after she woke up from her nap…

Alyssa: "I had a nightmare!"

Me: "Really? What was it?"

Alyssa: "It was pictures behind my eyes and you could click on them. It was like a movie."

Me: "What were the pictures of?"

Alyssa: "You!"

Me: "Oh! Were they scary?"

Alyssa: "No."

Me: "So it was a dream then."

Alyssa: "No, it was just like a movie behind my eyes."

I bet Mommy looked like this:

In other news, the cat has fleas.

And umm, let's see… Scott is desperate for a vacation. We're trying to decide between Disneyland and Yosemite. For the record, I'm on the Disneyland team. Alyssa has never been but she's been to Yosemite a few times. Who wants to go see Mickey? WE DO!

As for me, I got to be a (non) celebrity (non) super-model last week. Shutterfly's creative director sent me an email saying they were looking for a customer (and photo book creator) to represent the reasons to create a photo book. They said they wanted to interview me and do a photoshoot with me holding one of my photo books and wondered if I would be interested.

Ahh gee, let me think about it, YES!!!

Cara drove me to the photo shoot in San Francisco. (Thanks Cara!) They did my hair and make-up and I had a wardrobe stylist who dressed me in different outfits for different seasons. Yeah, I know. How cool is that? It was really fun. Though when I saw myself on the monitor my first thought was, WHOA!!! When did I turn into such a MOM? Anyway, I'm going to be on their website, in the photo book section of their store, starting in July.

While I was having my make-up done, they did a quick photo shoot of my niece, Sophia, holding some of my photo books and today they sent me a release to sign. They said I should add Sophia's name if it's okay to use her photo on their site in the future. How fun is that?

They used big binder clips to make my clothes fit. You better believe I'll be using that little fashion tip in the future. So if you see me walking around with big binder clips sticking all over my back it's not because I'm a dork, it's just because I'm a big (non) celebrity (non) super-model.

Hold the crud please...

Alyssa: "Mommy, can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

Me: "Sure."

Alyssa: "Please cut the crud off the bread."

Me: "You mean the crust?"

Alyssa: "No, the crud. I don't like crud on my bread."

Me: "Yeah, I'm not crazy about it either."

CPS should be arriving any minute now...

Quote of the day

Alyssa, after talking to my mom on the phone: "Now can we call Grandma Daddy's Mom?"

Me: "Maybe after lunch."

Alyssa: "Can we call Grandma Bea then?"

Me: "Nope, we can't call Grandma Bea because she's in heaven."

Alyssa: "That's okay, I'm sure she has her phone in her purse."

Random Photo Tuesday: I think I might be addicted to my camera.

I decided not to take my camera to Marine World. That may not sound shocking to most people, but for me, a complete photo fanatic, it's a big deal. Imagine a kid trying to nap without his security blanket or a crack addict going to… where do crack addicts go anyway?... well it would be like a crack addict going wherever they go… without their crack. In other words, for me, leaving my camera at home is not a small thing.

I take my camera with me everywhere. Well not everywhere but close enough. To go to an amusement park, a day packed full of potential photo opportunities, without my camera was a huge deal. There are many times when I have the camera with me that I intentionally choose not to take photos because instead of feeling like just the event photographer, sometimes I just want to be there, be part of the experience. but that's different than leaving the camera at home. There's something comforting about having the camera with me just in case.

The only reason I considered leaving my camera at home was because Scott started in with the same old stroller argument: We don't need a stroller. Alyssa is old enough to walk. Normally I shut that one down immediately but I decided to give it some thought. I realized that if we didn't take the stroller, I would have to carry everything on me. This meant, at a minimum, an extra change of clothes for Alyssa (because with a 3-yr-old you just never know what might happen), baby wipes, sunscreen, jackets for all of us and probably the 3-yr-old herself at some point.

I stood in the shower debating with myself. Did I really want to haul all of that stuff and my big old camera? I knew that if I took it I would have to worry about it. Pulling it out of my backpack only to shove it back in moments later. Trying to protect it on roller coasters, water rides, etc. Not to mention feeling the pressure to capture everything on my memory card. Constantly trying to get the perfect shot.

I tried to convince myself I'd have more fun without it. I could just enjoy watching the kids in the varying states of ecstasy that are cotton candy, merry-go-rounds and roller coasters instead of trying to preserve those moments for all time.

But then I wondered: would I? Would I truly be able to enjoy those moments or would I just be frustrated and annoyed as I watched the photo ops roll by, uncaptured? I mean really, why even bother going somewhere fun without my camera anyway? Might as well just sit under a rock.

The fact that it is such a big deal to me makes me a little nervous. Like come on, Dione, get a grip. Have I really become so obsessed with trying to capture the moments that I'm not even living in the moment at all anymore? Am I just viewing my world as a potential photo opportunity instead of just LIFE? Yeah, I'll enjoy this later when I look at the pictures, for now I need to figure out how to get this guy to move his big head so I can get a better shot. This leads me to my next perfectly logical question: if I weren't so obsessed with taking pictures, would I just keep my kids locked in a box all the time? I'm kidding of course. I would let them out on Christmas and Easter in case there were other people taking pictures.

The problem is that I want to remember everything but I don't trust my memory. The time flies by so quickly and I keep hoping that by photographing it I'll be able to somehow get these moments back. Sometimes I'll see a photo from long ago and, for just a second, I'll remember what it felt like to be in that moment… I'm putting great faith in the snapshots I'm taking now, hoping that someday when the girls have grown up and moved away that the pictures will transport me back here again, so that when I see the photos of Alyssa at three I'll be able to remember how it feels to have her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. That I'll remember what her voice sounds like when she's calling me to wipe her poopy butt. Okay I don't care to remember the poopy parts, but I want to remember all of the good stuff. And I'm not even sure I trust myself to know yet what is good stuff. So I take pictures of everything. No, not the poopy parts. That would be gross.

I want to remember the good stuff and I want the girls to remember it too. I want them to remember all the fun we have together. I have so many great memories from childhood and I occasionally wonder if I actually remember those things or if I only think I remember them, because I've seen the photos so many times. I even wonder about the memories that don't have photos to go with them… Did the photos of other events near that time help me remember? When I remember Tim Smith in our Kindergarten classroom opening jars of paint and pouring them all over the smelly brown carpet it's his smiling school photo face I remember doing it.

I'm a wealth of mostly useless family trivia thanks in part to my huge log of photos. The arrival of digital photography and, with it, thousands of date-stamped images… It's kind of like having a back-up system for my brain. When did we take that trip to Yosemite when it rained the whole time? How old was Amanda when she ran into the dresser and got that huge bump on her forehead? I'm not good at remembering dates but my date-stamped photos are BRILLIANT at remembering for me.

I lost my external hard drive last year. Crash! Several months' worth of photos permanently lost. Actually I don't even know how many months. I haven't stopped to figure it out because I still can't even bear to think about it. All those memories lost. I know it's not really that big of a deal but I can't help feeling like there's a gaping hole in my brain…a part of my past that's missing.

I used to be afraid I might love my camera more than my own children. When I was pregnant with Amanda, I would occasionally make some awkward move to protect my camera and end up hitting my protruding belly instead. I would think, OH NO! What if I do this when the baby is here? I'd been carrying a camera around for a long time, I was used to taking care of it, but carrying a baby everywhere would be new to me. What if my first instinct was to protect my camera instead of the baby? I pictured myself walking through a small space and reaching to protect my camera while accidentally slamming the poor baby's head against a wall or a piece of furniture.

Luckily I never slammed my baby's heads into anything… well other than my camera. On many occasions I've bent down to pick up one of the kids only to clock them in the head with the big old camera hanging from my neck. Oops. Both my camera and my kids did just fine though until my instincts were truly put to the test shortly after I took this photo:

This was at my niece's wedding. Amanda and Alyssa were flower girls. Alyssa was only 9 months old so she was more of an honorary flower girl. I don't think anyone really expected her to make it down the aisle. But my sister (mother of the bride) found this adorable antique carriage and cleaned it up and painted it just in case. The plan was that Amanda would push the carriage down the aisle along with two other flower girls.

The first time I saw the carriage, the night before the wedding, I panicked a little. I was blessed with the ability to envision horrifying outcomes even in the most harmless situations. Alyssa wasn't one of those I'll-just-lay-here-happily kind of babies. I was used to having her in a 5-point-harness and that was just when she was sleeping. So the thought of having her pushed down a concrete path by her three year old sister in this little basket-y thing with wheels and no restraints at all… made me very, VERY nervous. I exchanged looks with my other sister, who is also blessed with the same ability to imagine disastrous endings (thanks Mom!). We briefly discussed the options: Bungee cords? Duct tape? Super-glue on her diaper?

But in the end we decided it was highly unlikely Alyssa would even sit in the carriage other than for a quick photo or two and who wants to make waves at a family wedding? Okay well a lot of people love to make waves at family weddings but I don't happen to be one of them. The wedding day arrived with record high temperatures (113 degrees in the shade) and Alyssa didn't want to do much besides sleep and nurse, so I was fairly certain a ride down the aisle was not in her future.

Except that when it was time for the wedding to begin she was bright eyed and raring to go. I cautiously put her in the stroller expecting to take her out a moment later, but Alyssa was perfectly happy to just sit there, smiling at everyone like she was a celebrity and this was her big moment in the spotlight. Other than a bit of bickering between Amanda and her 2-year-old cousin over which one of them should get to push the stroller, it went quite smoothly. Alyssa smiled as her cousin, Riley, pushed her down the aisle to oohs and ahhs. She continued to smile and sit perfectly still up in front as the ceremony took place. I got to sit just a few feet away from her, camera in hand, of course. And like I said, it was all going so well until Riley got a little bored and decided to play with the stroller.

She grabbed the stroller's handle and I can only picture what happened next in slow motion: The stroller started to tip over, with my precious 9-month-old inside, a couple of feet above the concrete… and I, in that split second, threw my camera and dove to the ground to rescue her (the baby, not the camera!).

I always imagine the whole crowd doing a collective horrified GASP as the aunt of the bride hits the ground mid-ceremony. When I think about it I can hear myself doing that slow motion yell you in hear in movies… the one that sounds like a beached whale in agony: "nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh-ooooooooooooh" as I flail awkwardly to the ground and catch the stroller and the baby before any harm is done.

Actually , I don't remember exactly how it happened. What I do remember is that I made the right choice! In that split second, I sacrificed the camera to save the baby.
I thought for sure my camera was a goner, but I was able to turn it on and, brave soldier that it was, it continued to take pictures until the reception was nearly over. Then it just suddenly stopped working. When we took it to the camera store they said it would need to be sent away to Canon. It would cost this much for shipping, it would cost that much for diagnosis, it would cost who knows how much for the repair and the parts… all completely worth it, in my mind. Anything to get it working again, but my husband doesn't think the same way I do.

Scott is an extremely frugal do-it-yourself-kinda guy. He has the kind of brain that can figure out how to fix a whole lot of things. But not quite everything. Not long ago Scott was rattling on about how a friend had paid $1500 for the most recent procedure to keep her dog alive and Scott said, "Isn't that INSANE? I wouldn't pay $1500 to keep ME alive!!!" I've always said that if I came home and announced I had a brain tumor and needed expensive brain surgery, he would grab a kitchen knife and tell me to hold still. I wasn't surprised when Scott decided he would try to fix my camera himself. I was horrified. But not surprised. It was like watching him operate on one of my children. And it didn't go well.

A lot of very delicate parts being tossed to and fro and a few too many"Hmmm... I wonder what this thing is for?"s.

Sadly, the camera, did not survive. Alyssa, however, was completely unharmed. And here she is a few years later at Marine World. Come on, you didn't really think I'd leave the camera at home, did you?

"Help! I can't lift my backpack!"

Dressed in boots, a swimsuit cover-up and a tiara... Packing two sets of free-weights, some books, and a stuffed bunny, this kid is ready anything. If only she could lift her backpack.