Say Cheese!

Once upon a time, I took photos like a madwoman of my friends and I having fun, partying, being silly, being drunk, being stupid...just being... BEING. Then digital cameras came along and changed everything. They made it even more fun to paparazzi yourself and your crew... because you could screen your photos and keep clicking away to get the best pictures (of yourself...come on admit it- digital cameras brought the egoist out in all of us, just a little, don't you think?). With the exception of some of the more momentous photos (trips, birthdays, special nights out, Bachelorette party, etc. etc.), I wouldn't mind if most of my younger adult past's pictures went up in flames.

It'd save a whole lot of explaining when my kids get ahold of them someday- because I know that's inevitably going to happen.

Now, like most every other young parent in the digital age, photographing myself and my friends (and my pets!) has pretty much been replaced with photographing every little thing that my babies do. There are the occasional nights out with friends, but for the most part, I'm lucky if I make it into pictures at all these days- and that's ok by me- although I do wish that my husband would pick the camera up every now and then and shoot some pictures of me and the kids. I'll admit that I would like to be able to be in them with my babies more often, and not just the off-centered self-portraits I occasionally manage to pull off from time to time. Tay is in a ton of them. Me- not so much.

Historically, Dads seemed to be the ones who were missing in the photos- I know my Dad used to comment on that- but now it seems to be the opposite, with the moms following everyone around with the camera. Isn't it interesting how that's worked out? I wonder what that says about mothers and fathers in this day and age? Maybe it doesn't mean jack, but I believe that little quirky shifts in social and family dynamics mean something somehow...

Anyways, photographs are no longer about documenting me- it's all about my babies, just like everything else. I'm still documenting my life and the fun I'm having- it's just that now, my life and the fun I am having is wrapped up in my family- and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Our children are by far, thus far, the most documented children in the history of mankind. I don't know about anyone else, but it has become a task unto itself to keep my photo library organized and updated and backed up and blah blah blah with the ridiculous number of pictures I take with my big camera, my little camera and my cell phone camera. It's kind of stupid how much of my days and time are consumed by documenting and archiving my photos. But it'd be a waste to take all of these pictures and not keep up with them and maintain them and do something with them, I think.

Every day that passes my babies are getting bigger (which is great of course! yay for growing healthy kids!), and I guess by attempting to archive their images as best as I can, I'm trying to freeze time a little... and keep them small...

I love technology and all of the perks it affords me as a parent- but I am just as wary of it. I don't trust it as much as I don't fully understand it. I have had the hard drive of my laptop crap out on me in the past- which forced me to say good bye to nearly the entire year in pictures for 2007 and made me a little freakishly obsessive now when it comes to backing up my photos and making actual PRINTS of my photos.

I love the feel and smell of old photo albums. I always have. My parents always had tons and tons of pictures, especially since my dad has always been really into home media- as I'd imagine most dads of people my age were (thank you 1980s home media advancements!). The problem was that both my parents worked so much that a lot of their photos were housed in messy, unorganized boxes and they never got around to doing anything with them because they didn't have time.

It was fun to sort through the photos growing up, but the anal retentive organizer in me always would have liked to have seen them more in sequence.

So, since the day Jude was born in 2009, that is exactly what I have done with my photos. I want my kids to be able to pull out albums and flip through and see themselves grow and progress in order. Every season, I pour through my photo catalog on my computer, edit, select and order my prints- then organize them in chronological order into physical photo albums. I remember each image and when and where they were taken and have a lot of fun building the albums.

It's time consuming, but a labor of love.

The end results are priceless books that I just want to hug to my chest and rock back and forth like a little girl with a baby doll. I have about a dozen full albums- and Mochi isn't even 6 months yet. Taylor sometimes heckles me about how wrapped up I get in this routine I have- and teases me about the whole "Japanese tourist thing"- but I know he knows he'll thank me someday when we're old.

That's my reasoning for a lot of things these days: he'll "thank me someday when we're old"- and they're old too.

Strawberry Cupcake Mochi. Her first Halloween costume. There are about 50 photos I took of her in this outfit. I couldn't decide which I liked best so I'm having all of them printed. 

And each one makes me equally happy. This is how you wind up with 50 billion pictures of your kids on your computer.

Same for Jude in his lion costume at his first school Halloween party. These are from the end of the party, but I'm printing a gazillion images because I can't get enough of him from that day.

Baby in an Ergo watching her big brother run in the yard- her favorite place to be.

A happy kid in a swing, pumped full of Halloween sugar in what was left of his lion costume from the day- lion tail swinging on a beautiful afternoon in our backyard. There are about 20 of these from just this single swing session- but it's little moments like this that I feel compelled to capture and don't feel redundant in printing and putting into albums, because each shot is something entirely different than the other.

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Straight Shooter

The November issue of Oklahoma Magazine is out and it has my celebrity feature on Miranda Lambert in it. She's the cover story and it's really exciting for me. The interview with Miranda Lambert last month was so much fun- I always enjoy talking with women who have followed their hearts, paid their dues and are thriving in the success of their life's dream.

It's very inspiring- and Ms. Lambert was very inspiring.

I am so very very grateful that my editors at Oklahoma Magazine have faith in my writing and allow me the opportunity to write their celebrity features. They are allowing me to follow my own life's dreams and each time I get an assignment like this one, I get a thrill up my spine and a rush through my veins while I'm writing that I don't get from doing anything else in the world.

When I was in high school- scribbling away in notebooks and getting my papers butchered by conformist red pens in creative writing class, my biggest caviar dream was to be a freelance writer, writing for Rolling Stone Magazine or Vanity Fair someday. Granted, I'm not writing for Rolling Stone Magazine (yet! lol), but I write for an incredible statewide glossy mag and have been fortunate enough to be able to write feature pieces on musicians who often grace Rolling Stone- and that to me equals personal success.

It's not about money or how big a publication is- it's the fact that I'm doing what I've always wanted to do.

I remind myself of this from time to time- particularly when I land a feature like this- because I want to lead as a good example to my children. I want them to grow up seeing their mom doing what she loves to do, in hopes that someday they too will pursue what makes them happy and strive for personal success in doing what they want to do.

I think too often times women are judged in a negative way for being self confident or taking pride in themselves and what they do- and that's unfortunate. I think it's important to acknowledge from time to time what it is we are good at and where in life we have been successful. Our successes should be celebrated- because we only get one life. I try to remind the women that I know what I admire in them and where I see them excel.

They all inspire me so!

I've had friends ask me what it's like to interview celebrities- and I have to say, it's nerve wrecking. I hate the way I sound on the phone and I get nervous and have a tendency to stumble with my words- hence why I'm a writer and not in public relations or sales or anything like that.

I watched ML being interviewed by Hoda Kotb on Dateline just weeks before I interviewed her, then there I was not long after, on the phone with her- little ol' me, sitting on the floor in my closet with the door shut, hovering over my cell phone, little recorder, a glass of water, and notes, with my "interview assistant cat" Niles camped out in my lap. This is exactly how I interview famous people. It's important to be as comfortable as possible- and this is exactly why I will never convert to video phone or Skype'ing.

I'm honestly not really into country music. I've always been a rock and roll gal- but I do try to keep an open mind. Since I started writing Oklahoma Magazine's music column a few years ago, I really had to start casting my prejudgments aside and open up even more.

To get a feel of her music for the story, I downloaded her album, Revolution, and I must say, it's pretty good. The song that she won all the awards for, The House that Built Me, is just beautiful- and I think anyone, no matter what music you listen to, would enjoy it.

Who doesn't like pretty things??????

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Food Ninja

Watching a baby human learn how to eat solid foods is a fascinating thing. All sorts of thoughts run through my mind when I see it happen. The messy faces and gumming of soft pastel colored spoons trigger a train of thoughts that lead me into all sorts of different places. When I watch babies learn to eat, I often think of really really old people at places like Luby’s or Furs- where the food is bland and the old people are so old that they have lost their ability to eat food that has little more consistency than baby food.

I think of what it was like for my mom and dad to feed me baby food for the first time, and the conversations they had and the endearing “oohing” and “ahhing” they must have done, like all parents do. I wonder how often my mom got pissed at my dad while they were learning to be parents and how many times he may have slept on the couch.

Then I think of my parents getting old someday- too old to eat food that has little more consistency than baby food, and I imagine that I may have to help feed them stuff like mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese. How old will they live to be? Who will live the longest? Will they have all their teeth?

Then thoughts shift to my own impending old age, and wondering if my kids will be feeding me too. Will I have all my teeth by then? (God I hope so) Will I need to spoon feed Taylor when he gets super old too, or will I already be dead? And if I am alive and spoon feeding him, will we still be arguing about the same stupid stuff that we argue about now, then, even while I'm spoon feeding him grits or saltless chicken noodle soup?

Life goes by so quickly- and this really trips me out sometimes. Babies get your brain moving in overdrive about this crazy circle of life we humans go through. I didn't think about it all that much before I had me some babies. I just concentrated on the now and the fun stuff. Now it's the past and the present and the future in every which way direction, and the smallest weirdest things set my mind off.

Baby Mochi started rice cereal this week and it’s a pretty big deal. I take note of how big a deal this is each time she eats it because I feel like in retrospect with Jude, I didn’t acknowledge just how quickly these little milestone moments actually go by with children. This reality hits home when I see Mochi seated next to her brother in the same green Bumbo chair he was in eating rice cereal for the first time, seemingly 5 minutes ago.

  

Not playing favorites by any means- but it is what it is when I say that Baby Mochi is a saving grace of sunshine in my life these days. Amidst the challenges of taming a toddler- whom I love to the moon and back, and who lights up my days in his own unique ways that only he can do- my little butterball baby just lights up my every days.

From the moment she wakes up smiling and baby talking to herself, waiting for me to come get her in the morning, until the end of the day, when I nurse her and she falls asleep on my chest with her thumb in her mouth, and I put her in her crib and she rolls over without a fuss and drifts off to baby dreamland.


She’s a little slice of heaven on Earth.

The healthiest, happiest, most rosy-faced little Baby Mochi in all the land.

She’s been eyeing our food and drinks in a serious way for weeks now- smacking her tiny heart shaped mouth and staring at us with sparkly, inquisitive eyes while we eat. When we finally fed her her rice cereal for the first time, I realized that we have a food ninja on our hands. I have never seen such an aggressive baby with a bowl of baby food. We literally had to pry the purple spoon out of her kung fu grip- and then she would sit with her mouth open like a baby bird, flapping her arms around and squealing like an excited little piglet, eager for more.

I just love this compliant, adoring, easy to please, all-I-want-to-do-is-snuggle-and-eat-sleep part of a child's life. I am learning to soak it up and enjoy every second of it, before she develops an opinion and learns the word "No!"

Not that I have anything to worry about in that department. Not my daughter. 

I just know that my sweet little angel will never grow up and give me a hard time like her brother. No way. Not my baby cakes. Not my little girl. She's going to stay sweet and cooperative for forever!

Yeah right. She comes from me. I'm doomed!

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Roadkill

I'm starting to feel a little like mommy roadkill. The picture below is what I want to do throughout the day on the weekends too. I actually tried it a couple times when Jude did it- when I wasn't getting my way with him. I laid down next to him and became an unmoving, pouting pile of weary bones. It surprisingly got him up off the floor pretty quickly- but then he started climbing all over me and bouncing up and down on my back and whining, so it didn't last long.

I call this photo, "No." Just "No." Here he has the ability to suddenly weigh 100 lbs. and be magically stuck in quicksand. 

I feel like lately all I can think to blog about is my little boy's cranky attitude. I think this is because, like with any other relationship you have with someone you love, your issues become mind consuming. Time consuming. Energy draining and nerve frying.

Like when you are young and your parents are driving you nuts (or hell, when you are an adult and your parents are driving you nuts!), or you and your boyfriend or husband aren't getting along or when a friend is draining you with her constant jabbering about her ongoing disfunctional relationship. Anytime a relationship starts to wear on you, if you really really care about it, you think about it a lot and let the problems get under your skin- you harp on it because you want to make it better but may not be sure how to- or you realize that you have to ride out the ebb because all things must surely (hopefully) pass eventually, and then it's a waiting game.

It's reassuring to know that Jude's terrible two'ness is temporary. I keep having to remind myself that. I have heard parents say, "No, it shouldn't be called the terrible twos. That's so negative- it's important to stay positive. We say terrific twos." Um, no. That's total bullshit. I'm sorry, but much of the time, it is not terrific. It is indeed terrible- with fleeting terrific cute stuff coming in spurts in between the terrible.

There is little negotiation and reason with these little people. It's a lot of terribly frustrating "Ah ah!' and "Omigod, seriously? Seriously????" moments.

It is terrible to be out at a restaurant and have your child freak the fuck out because a piece of pancake has fallen on the floor and he refuses to eat what's on his plate and only wants to fight you to climb under the table and eat the piece of pancake that has fallen on the floor.

It is terrible when your child comes running into the bathroom and throws an entire cup of water on you while you are sitting down to pee, then gets his feelings hurt and turns into unresponsive deadweight on the floor when you show your disapproval about it.

It is terrible when no other object in the house will make your child happy except for the teething ring that his baby sister is happily chewing on- therefore causing all hell to break loose because he has decided that it has suddenly become his sole property.

Those three things are just examples of what happened yesterday morning- and I don't have time to recount everything else- and this is mostly because I can't even count all of the terribleness from yesterday because there were too many incidents to remember them all.

After numerous "No Daddy!" protests, Taylor got to a couple of points yesterday when he just decided to jump ship altogether.

I wish that I had the option to bail like that, and go lay down to recharge, block out the noise and gather my wits, without asking what anyone else has to say about it. That must be super nice, dads. How is it that everyone in the house gets to take a Sunday nap except for me, the one person who doesn't get a full night's sleep?

Husband said, "Please don't hassle me about stuff today, I'm depressed."

"What? Because of the fucking football game? I have no sympathy for you."

Does my husband remember who he married? There is no get out of jail for free card because of a football game in my world- I don't care what game it was. I think he forgets that I could give two shits about OU football, or any football for that matter (I don't discriminate) - particularly when there is a wild baby animal child terrorizing my house.

After asking for a PBJ for lunch, and acting all excited about eating it, he ran away from it.

"I no want PBJ!" Here he has the ability to wedge himself in between furniture and become cemented between objects- impossible to pull out. 

Attitude. Battle of the wills. 

The cutest roadkill I've ever seen. We just walk over him when he does this, going along our way like one might steer clear of a dead squirrel in the street. 

After our usual morning routine of him being a miserable whiney mess until we get to school, I felt a whole lot better- OK, I felt LOADS better- when I saw a couple of other parents trying to console their tantrum having kids outside of class. One little girl was having a spaz attack, attaching herself to her dad's leg and refusing to let go or shut up about it. 

Hate to admit it, but it was a little bit of music to my ears. 

What a sick sense of satisfaction it gave me.

My son is making a little insane I think.

Rise and Shine Al Bundy

Since being potty trained, Jude has gotten really into his boy parts- like I imagine most little boys do.

He’s grown so accustomed to whipping it out in the backyard that his first day of school he peed on a tree on the playground- and I have to admit, I was proud of him for at least not peeing his pants.

At bedtime, I’ve started doing a breathing exercise with him like I once learned to do in yoga during savasana, to help wind him down. We relax all our body parts one by one and recite them in a whisper as we go. After each regular part, Jude loves to cry out, “Relax the wee wee!” or “Relax the little balls!” and die laughing. Then we have to start all over, with me dying laughing too. I can’t remember who it was that said “little balls” in front of him, but he inherently caught onto the phrase and thinks it’s hilarious. I guess because it is?

He wakes up every morning with one or sometimes both of his hands down the front of his pants like Al Bundy. Last night I went in to check on him like I always do before I go to bed, and found him sleeping peacefully on his back with both hands stuffed down the front of his pajama shorts. I tried to carefully maneuver them out, but he stirred, tightened his grip on whatever it was he had ahold of, opened his eyes and looked at me all crazy-like, growling “Nooooooo,” and flopped over, face down into his pillow, both hands still in his pants, and went back to sleep.

So I let him be.

He’s been notorious for his shitty attitude around bedtime since he was a little baby. Goes down pissed off that he has to go to bed- wakes up pissed off that he has to rise and meet the day. It takes everything I have not to either lose my cool or laugh at him when he freaks out- particularly in the wee hours of the day, because I myself am not by any means a morning person. This has been one of the biggest tests for me as a mom. I have personally experienced starting my day off with a parent who wallows in his shitty morning attitude, and I know first hand how that can rub off on a child and tarnish what would have been a good day.

This being said, Jude and his Poppa Yates should sit down and discuss this over a couple of chocolate milks.

I try my damndest to stay cool, keep calm, keep positive and friendly and brush off his arguing, whining, crying, kicking, screaming, moaning, objecting and whimpering.

“Not that pants!”

“No, not that undies!”

“Jude try, JUDE TRY!” ……

“No Mommy try, MOMMY TRY!!!!”

He looks a lot like his Caucasian daddy most of the time- but the Asian really comes out in his eyes and he looks a lot more like yours truly when he’s laughing or sleepy or angry.

A couple of mornings ago, he woke up extra pissed off, greeting me by shouting, “No Mommy!” and throwing his pillows and stuffed animals at me when I walked through his bedroom door. He barrel rolled around the bed, kicking and whining with his hands down his pants- refusing to let me undress him and get ready for school. When he finally stopped, he looked at me with a stink eye and muttered, “It’s Wednesday,” started crying and rolled over and buried his face back in his pillow.

WTH? How is it possible that my 2 year old has mutated into a hands-constantly-in-his-pants, grumpy teenage boy?

Usually a couple of waffles and some orange juice makes everything better- and he’s back to his smiley, silly self, randomly hugging my legs, laughing and dancing and singing and making me feel terrible for all of the not so nice mommy things that ran through my head while wrestling him into his day.

Please Jude- Pookie Bear- love of my life… would it kill you to wake up happy one morning and give me a break? Pleeeease?

Trick or Treat

I'm guessing that half a jar of Dark Chocolate Almond Butter is not on the Paleo Diet- which is a shame because that's exactly what I've eaten (by myself) since I bought the jar on Monday. Granted, almond butter is on the diet and I eat it smeared on bananas- making me justify my inability to stay away from the stuff since I'm eating with fruit- but it's still chocolate and it's still in excess, which isn't exactly part of my diet- but I've been sticking to it pretty strick-like for the past three months, and I see no harm in indulging in some treat action from time to time. It's just not living if you don't.

Tis the season for fighting the urge to gorge on treats- Halloween always kicks it off for me. The annual sack of Halloween candy, which I can't deny my household, has already been consumed and it's not even Halloween yet. I bought a bag of the good stuff (mini Reeses cups, Snickers bars, Milky Way, 3 Musketeers) a week ago to keep in our jack o lantern bucket and it didn't stand a chance against the Hines household. I have no self control, nor does my husband- and it's hard to deny an adorable child a piece of chocolate... that is until it has been consumed and the child turns into a sugary shrieking, emotional time bomb hot mess.

I'm very thankful that we killed the bucket of candy early and got it out of our system. Jude was starting to march around the house every night chanting "Choclat, Choclat, Choclat!"and I was starting to feel edgy and crackish at the end of the day after dinner, pacing the kitchen, itching for a chocolate fix. We are just now kind of getting back to normal- and even then, we're still cheating.

When I was little, my mom never bought my brother and I candy or junk food. We got stuff like raisins and beef jerky as treats in our lunch. At the time I thought it cruel of her to deny us the sweets that most other kids got- but I get it now. She's a smart lady and she saved herself a ton of headache. By the time we got a little older, Chris and I weren't interested in candy. We trick or treated, and took the time to sort out our booty and take inventory for the fun and novelty of it- then it would sit in our buckets untouched for weeks until mom would come and haul it into the trash. This is probably why we've always had such an immaculate dental history of no cavities.

I'm hoping to ween Jude off the sugar teet that I've unintentionally gotten him attached to these past few weeks. It's hard being a parent- both wanting to keep your kid healthy and happy and wanting to put a smile on his/her face and watch them light up when they eat something sweet. But since I have a difficult time with self control and overindulgence for myself, I have to be extra careful with my kid.

In an ongoing attempt to lead by healthy example, I have officially turned into my mother, having signed up to bring fresh fruit instead of cookies and cupcakes and junk to his school Halloween party. I got fun trick or treat bags, Halloween stickers and a "prize" for each one in an attempt to make the fruit cups I'm going to put together more fun. Kind of like a, "Ha ha! Tricked you! No candy! This treat bag is just filled with fruit!" treat bag.

But hey- fruit can be fun. Healthy eating can be fun. We'll see though.

Pre schoolers are a mighty tough crowd to please.

Best. Chocolate Bar. EVER.

Attitude Adjustment

It's been a long weekend- but I can't complain. Well, I guess it would be more accurate to say that I can't complain anymore. I've done my fair share of complaining this weekend- but in all fairness, I don't think it's entirely my fault. Jude whined and complained and drove us a little nuts all weekend, and his complaining and whining must have been contagious. Then we all just whined and complained back and forth to each other, ultimately creating a whiney and complainy weekend. We kept to our house and spared the rest of the world our collective snarky mood.

The only one with a good attitude all weekend was the baby. She even had the tummy bug and had to go to the ER and she still outdid us all with her smiles and positive attitude- puke and all. I'm so grateful that she is such a happy, low maintenance and pleasant child- because Jude, his dad and I can sure use attitude adjustments a lot of the time. She was my saving grace- my little ray of sunshine. I hate to admit it, but there were moments when I wanted nothing more than to ditch my two sour puss boys, scoop up Mochi and high tail it out of there.

It's nice to have a female ally in the house.

But as it goes, sometimes you have one of those weekends. Sometimes kids are moody and impossible to please, and sometimes as a parent you lose your grasp on your adulthood and let your child get the best of you, thus allowing yourself to regress down to their maturity level. It sucks to remember at the end of the day that their behavior is excusable because they are so little and are still learning to cope with their emotions, whereas you should know better.

The good thing is, a child can undo all of the annoyance he's caused you- no matter how much it was- in just one moment of being sweet. They can bring you back to connect with your spouse just as quickly as they can temporarily divide you from the sheer frustration they can cause.

It's their special super power. This is why no matter how hard it gets, the sweet moments make it all worth every second.

Having talked with several random people who choose not to have kids over the past week, this is something that I think a lot of them don't and can't understand. Well, maybe they kind of understand, but the concept of the sweet moments still don't outweigh the reality of the tough stuff. I get the feeling sometimes that a lot of them (not all, mind you!) are almost repulsed at the idea of having children- like they are life ruining freedom robbers; ball and chain pain in the ass hassles. That's the impression I get. Often.

I can't really blame them though- it's impossible to see things otherwise until/unless you personally experience becoming a parent. I can see how children in general might be perceived to be some of those things- because I've been one of those childless people before and I've felt that way in the past- so I get it. With me, it was more fear than repulsion.

Fear of what a future with children held. Fear of the effect pregnancy would have on my body. Fear of the freedom I would lose when I became a mother. Fear of the intense, extreme change that children bring.

Fear of the fact that deep down I knew I wanted children but resisted the urge to be defiant and rebellious towards women I knew who seemed to have had their brains eaten by their babies.

My fears were justified. All of those things were and have been scary. My past reluctance and hesitation and fears are justified regularly- and I must check myself and my attitude all the time. The stress that my kids cause me sometimes is exactly what I've always been afraid of experiencing.

Thankfully, however, I am reminded every day that the fear and scariness is what makes this an exciting and thrilling ride- because for all the unfun stuff, there is the crazy super fun stuff, and for all of the uncertain scary moments, there are the overwhelmingly incredible moments that take your breath away and make you so feel so grateful and happy that you feel as light as air.

What feels better than falling in love? And what better gift can you get in life than the ability to fall in love all over again, each and every single day with a child? No better gift, I say.

When my sick baby glues herself to me for comfort and falls asleep with her hand clutching my finger, or my little boy leans over and pats the pillow on the other side of his double bed and whispers at bedtime, "I wub you (love you). Mommy way (lay) wight (right) here in big boy bed wif Jude," I am reminded of why taking that huge leap of faith into motherhood was the best thing I ever did.

He wants to wear his Ghostbusters shirt every day. Little does he know that his mom made his Mimi and Aunt Sach take her to see the Ghostbusters sequel about 10 times in the theater back in the 80s, so this particular clothing quirk of his is super special.

Moments before he took a huge bite of the chocolate covered banana and a huge chunk of the chocolate shell fell on the ground, causing the end of the world as he knew it. That was fun.

My poor sweet sick Baby Mochi. She didn't make a peep all day Friday- not a whimper, not a cry, not a fuss, despite all her throwing up. Even at the ER she was smiling (if not weakly) at nurses and charming the doctor. We could all take a lesson from little Moch on soldiering through sickness with a smile.

Niles loves the baby, which is interesting because Niles doesn't like anyone. Besides me (and Taylor sometimes, although he will never admit it). He especially isn't that crazy about Jude. Never has been. He steers clear of him like the plague. But he now comes around and camps out with Baby Mochi and lets her grab at him and "pet" her. It's so very true that cats choose people- not the other way around.

Right before the trip to the ER, she was frighteningly lethargic. Jude never got sick as an infant, so this was foreign territory for me. Sick infants are a scary, scary thing.

Taylor the child wrangler- Baby Mochi sweet talking daddy while Jude "fixes" himself with his "I'm OK" ice pack patch after falling off the ladder of his fort. I got him a special boo boo ice patch at Whole Foods and it's amazing how much faster kids recover when they have their own special something to make themselves feel better.

Jude found a dessert cookbook that my mom gave me for Christmas- also known as dessert porn. He poured over it all evening on the kitchen floor, pointing out and describing each dessert on every page and "Oooing and Ahhing" over every one. Even though we are limiting our household on our sweets intake, I made a trip to Braums to get break and bake cookies for everyone. Taylor has spent the past week slaving away at doing our taxes and he especially deserved all the cookies he could eat.

Playing Dress Up

Grocery shopping was a little more fun than usual today- and this is because WHOLE FOODS finally opened! Yay! Just 10 minutes from my house, this healthy eating haven is definitely all it's cracked up to be. I won't get into gushing about it- because I already did this to Taylor earlier and got it out of my system- but yes. It's fantabulous. Since we also have a costume party to go to next week, I also went to the Spirit of Halloween superstore to shop for Taylor. He lets me dress him up, which is always fun. I'm glad I wasn't shopping for me though, because I always have a hard time at those places.

I'm never short of amazed at how whorish any one typical occupation or character can be made by costume manufacturers. Slutty Nurse. Slutty Little Red Riding Hood. Prostitute Tiger. Hooker Robot or Border Patrol Officer. Most of the selection for women's costumes seems to be stuff made for a cheap porno flick. Maybe it's the models on the packages and the way they are working the costumes, but these outfits do nothing for me. Granted, there are things to work with at that store- it's huge and has a ton of fun stuff- not everything was ridiculous- but most of the pre-packaged women's costumes were. They always are. I'm wondering at what point in time women's Halloween costumes got so hooker happy? Surely it hasn't always been this way. One of my very favorite movie moments is from Mean Girls, when Lindsay Lohan goes to that Halloween party having never been to one before, dressed as a bloody, scary mess "Ex Wife," only to have not gotten the memo that Halloween is an occasion when girls get to dress like total sluts and no one can say anything about it.

Even the stuff for "tween" (I hate that phrase) is getting a little borderline provocative if you ask me. I checked them out, to see what kind of fun girl's outfits are out there for when Baby Mochi gets big enough to dress up. But after looking, I'm thinking that she and Jude will probably follow in suit with her dad and I, who for Halloween parties, always just come up with something that consists of a lot of stuff we already own, with extra details and accessories to make the costumes what they need to be. I'm happy to make their costumes until they are old enough to not want me to anymore.

Maybe that's cheap and not as fun as getting full blown store bought get ups, but they always work- I make sure we do it right. I'm a firm believer in never doing anything half-assed if I'm going to do it, and costumes are no exception. There are ways to do costumes on your own without spending a bunch of money on store bought stuff- and they are almost always better that way if you ask me.

I came home and told Taylor about the costume selection for girls, and we had a nice fuddy duddy parental conversation about how our daughter will never dress whorish for Halloween while living under our roof. Taylor has decided that she will have two costume options: A.) Ugly witch with a big nose mole and broom or B.) A ghost, which will consist of a sheet with two holes cut out for eyes.

Since I was a kid, I've always been a fan of the ass kicking costume variety. This includes ninjas- which I actually was one year in the 4th grade I think. In turn, I'm all about dressing my son (and daughter if she is interested- I don't know if she'll be as big of a tomboy as I was, but I'm all for it) up as ass kicking things like ninjas. We wanted him to be a ninja this year, but the policy at his Montessori school for his parade and party was adamant about a "no weapons" rule with costumes. BORING. How could he be a ninja without samurai swords or throwing stars or sais? So we've opted with a lion get up- which I'm putting together at home for him- since he's into The Lion King right now. I saw these double samurai swords at the Halloween store today and it was hard to fight my disappointment that I wouldn't be needing them this year.

I'm not one to jump on a band wagon, but I can't lie. WHOLE FOODS is incredible. And I don't use the word incredible unless I really mean it. Jude is going to be over the moon when he realizes he's going grocery shopping in this baby the next time he comes with me.

WHOLE FOODS HIGHLIGHTS for me:

Spices in bulk, so you can get a pinch of this, that and the other without having to buy a whole jar if you don't need it.

Finally a place to take my #5 plastics to be recycled

All natural desserts- which I still can't eat on this diet- but I can still look and drool.

An olive bar. All that's missing is a martini in my hand.

Weird random stuff that I didn't know I needed to try, but now do. Like frozen Mochi treats.

Strange, random recycled paper calendar of cats that I put in my basket, walked around with in my cart for awhile, then put back because I don't need it (and am hoping it will eventually go on sale later in the year).

I made this meal the other night and it was off the chain. Another meal that proves to me that the Paleo Diet fits us just fine. Tuna sashimi from Gulf Port Fish Market, grilled asparagus and leftover spicy veggie/shrimp stir fry from the night before. No white rice- which Ive finally adjusted to and am OK with. 

My flowers are bursting with color and life- so late in the year, but that's ok. They survived the drought and are really taking off thanks to the weekend's soaking rain. Coming home to this every day is such a joy and makes me feel super super good inside.

Have a great weekend!