Date Night

My in-laws live a mere 8 miles from us, so they frequently take the kids when we need a break. However, they live in the valley, which means we have to drive 6 miles on the 405 freeway to get to their house. The 405 freeway must be the most congested freeway in the country. During rush hour, it can take 2 hours to drive those 6 miles.

As a result, we have to plan our babysitting adventures in advance. If Lance and I want to go out to dinner, I need to get the kids over to my in-laws' house before 2pm (in time for their naps and before rush hour starts). We generally let them spend the night, and then I pick them up around 9:30 or 10am, after the morning rush has passed. The kids are with their grandparents for almost 24 hours, which is great for me, though it does also mean that we don't ask for this service too often. It probably happens about once every two months, sometimes during the week, sometimes on the weekend. (We do have a babysitter to call in the event that the in-laws can't do it.)

Last night was one of those nights. A friend had emailed me a flyer about a benefit for a pre-schooler who had recently been diagnosed with a rare kind of cancer. A restaurant offered to donate all its profits Tuesday night to the the family. Rare night out for Lance and I plus a good cause--it seemed like a win-win to me, especially when my in-laws agreed to take the kids.

Lance and I so rarely spend quality time together without the kids these days, you'd think that any date night would be fabulous. Somehow, it doesn't always work out that way. We argue, or have trouble connecting. We drink too much or bring up the wrong topics. Somebody orders the wrong entree, the wine is too expensive, I forget my wallet. Or I don't know, the sky is blue and somehow it ruins the evening. I'm not saying that happens every date night, but it does happen, and more frequently than it seems like it should.

Yesterday after I dropped off the kids, I came home to a beautifully clean house thanks to Lucrecia, our life-saving house-keeper. I had the entire afternoon free, and I spent it reading blogs, finishing a novel (good!), laying in the yard, and fixing some chicken salad with the leftovers from the night before. So peaceful and easy, so pleasant. Around 4:30 I took a relaxing shower, then blew my hair dry and put on an outfit I haven't worn in a year or so. On a whim, I put on a pair of heels I haven't worn since the wedding I bought them for 3 years ago. (I have a bad back, and only wear heels at special occasions, maybe once or twice a year).

Lance came home shortly thereafter, and his face lit up when he saw me.

"Why are you so smiley?" I asked him.

"It's not often I come home to a quiet house, my wife all dressed up and looking relaxed and refreshed, with no kids running around."

That's how the whole evening went. We were thrilled to be with each other. We laughed and talked easily, we didn't think about the kids at all. The food was fine--not fantastic, but it didn't even matter. There was a kind of electricity between us that hasn't been there in ages. We were eager to get home for "other activities", but we also wanted to keep talking forever. It felt like an actual date, the kind you have before you get married. It felt incredibly nice.

I wish all our date nights turned out as well. Having the afternoon to myself really helped. Being able to get myself ready without refereeing the kids' arguments, fixing their dinner, & being sure the babysitter had everything she needed helped too. Often by the time we get in the car, I'm already resenting Lance for not helping me in the exact way that I want him to, so it was nice to feel nothing but anticipation for a change. Also, the combination of heels plus the color I got at the beach this weekend made me feel surprisingly sexy and confident. To top it off, it's summer, and summer always makes me happy.

What a perfect evening!

This one's for Jennster

The sun has finally decided to grace us with its presence, and after 6 weeks of fog and gloom, we had a beautiful sunny weekend that is still holding strong today. I'm not sure what it says about me that I am so affected by the weather, but, again, I thank my lucky stars that I live in Southern California. Hopefully the gray is gone for the season and we'll be enjoying 80 degree temps for the next few months.

Typically, the weather is grey and gloomy in June (hence the nomiker, "June gloom") so there is still the possibility that the sun will disappear again, BUT . . . we are leaving next week for two weeks back East. By the time we get back on the 20th, it should be all sun, all the time. Just like I like it.

We are also leaving this weekend to head up to Carmel and visit some old friends from San Francisco. We have been taking this annual trip to Carmel for 4 or 5 years now, and we always have tons of fun. Carmel is beautiful, and we stay in a gorgeous ranch owned by a friends' dad. The only small blight on the trip is that it reminds me of Tim, since he was one of the original members of the Carmel crew. (If you don't have time to click the link, Tim was a friend who died in a freak accident about 2 years ago) His old fiance has a baby now, although she is not married, and I don't think she'll be there this weekend. I'm sure we'll toast him at least once, and tell funny Tim stories and reflect--all that is good. But it still leaves me with a tiny ache in my heart--he should be there, to tell the stories himself. To make new stories. I have such a hard time with his death, still, even though we weren't particularly close friends.

ANYWAY. We had a lovely weekend, spent a ton of time at the beach, and now I'm running around trying to get ready to leave.

So, since Jennster loves the family photos so much, here are a few to tide you over until I can write an actual post of substance.

Will I ever do a real post again?

Random bullets, ala Phantom.

1. Last night we took the kids up to the neighbors' house for a bbq. I drank two beers and 3 margaritas. I actually had bed spins as I was trying to fall asleep. I haven't had bed spins in 15 years. I feel like roadkill this morning.

2. Bed spins.

3. I have no memory of getting the kids into pajamas and bed last night. It's a miracle we ended up in the right house. At some point, I also folded the laundry, so I can't complain too much.

4. Hooray for long weekends. We had two days of spectacular weather this week and now it's back to grey. I hope to God it clears up soon. We are attending a pool party tomorrow, where I was hoping both kids would miraculously learn to swim, so that I won't be forced to don a bathing suit for swimming lessons at the local pool.

5. Tonight I'm going with Heidi over to the bride's house for some girl time--wine, snacks, gossip. I've been looking forward to it all week--except, roadkill and all.

6. At every meeting we have with our architect we discuss budget. After 6 months of planning, the architect now believes that the house he has designed will be way beyond our financial scope. There is no way to cut back on the design without losing the aesthetics of the house. So it's back to square one.

7. Because my husband is a saint, he got the kids dressed, put Vivian in front of Nemo, and took Isaac to pre-school this morning so I could nurse my hangover. He left me his car, which is great, except it has no carseat in it. I shouldn't really call him and complain, should I? Do you think Vivian will be okay if I leave her here while I get some coffee? I really, really need coffee.

8. Lance just came home with the car so I decided to run over to Annika's house with the lasagne I made for her yesterday. Except that I live in L.A., you know, so the 12 mile drive took 30 minutes which meant I was running late to pick Isaac up at pre-school. She opened the door, I threw the lasagne at her, yelled "what a cute baby!" and left. Nice. He is a cute baby, though. So tiny! So sweet!

9. Tequila, elixir of Satan.


(10. I just came home after a doctor's appointment to see what you lovely people had to say about my bed spins and--surprise!--nothing is posted. How can that happen? There's this little button called "publish post", see, and you have to click on it. Oh my pretty pretty braincells, I'm miss you already.)

Question

If you are 3 years old and you don't fall asleep until 9:30pm, and then for some reason you wake up at midnight and cannot get back to sleep until 2am, don't you think you would sleep just a little later than 5:30? Don't you?

I mean, really. WHAT THE FUCK?


In other news, Mieke did the walk for Adelaide last weekend. Thanks to you guys, she made her $5000 goal, and then some. Isn't that fabulous? Go read about it, here. Awesome. Truly awesome.

I got nothin'.

Because I have nothing to say and it's already Wednesday night: another meme. And, oh yeah, Melissa tagged me. AGAIN. So blame her.

I AM: on my third beer.
I SAID: "Nice knowin' ya."
I WANT: my son to be healthy.
I WISH: my sister was happy.
I HATE: Peas. Winter. Sweaters. Tom Cruise. Shopping. When friends act like assholes.
I MISS: my family.
I FEAR: too many things.
I HEAR: my children squabbling. ALL. THE . TIME.
I WONDER:why my son wakes up before 6am EVERY SINGLE MORNING.
I REGRET: losing touch with Andy Nye, my college boyfriend. (Inside joke, in case he's reading this (which, yeah, of course he's not, but I'm on my third beer, so whatever): "Do what?") {It's an INSIDE joke, okay? Not funny to you, but it's not meant to be. Sheesh.}
I AM NOT: crafty. Nor do I want to be. Keep those scrapbooks FAR AWAY from me.
I DANCE: with my kids. Except they always want me to pick them up and swing them around, and goddammit, I am not their father! Can't you just move your feet or your hips? Must I do EVERYTHING LITTLE THING for you??
I SING: hardly ever. (Be glad. I'm tone deaf.)
I AM NOT ALWAYS: smart. I wish I was.
I MADE: the beds a long time ago. I need to change the sheets again. Crap.
I WRITE: this blog. That's it. Isn't that enough?
I SHOULD: change the sheets more often.
I START: not much. Sadly. No, actually, that's really sad. But it's true. I don't start anything. I mean, I guess I start the car every day when I drive to pre-school. But that's all I can think of.
I FINISH: a tall chai latte way too frequently than is good for our finances.
I BELIEVE: in myself. in my husband. in love. in happiness.
I KNOW:that you probably think I'm full of shit.
I CAN: kick your ass in soccer. And I never played soccer as a kid. I'm much more athletic than you think.
I CANT: carry a tune.
I SEE: lightning bugs. Oh wait, no I don't. I live in California, where they don't have lightning bugs. Can you believe that? A place with no lightning bugs?? It's unfathomable. And yet, here I am. Here my children are, in a world without lightning bugs. I'm not sure they'll ever recover. I know I won't.
I BLOG: when I should be playing with my kids. Do you play with your kids? I mean, really play with them, often? Because, GOD, it bores me to tears to play with them.
I READ: blogs and not much else. It's because of you people that I haven't read a novel in over a year.
I AM AROUSED BY: lazy afternoons, sun spots on the bed.
IT PISSES ME OFF: when people refuse to accept responsibilityy for their actions.
I FIND: my husband's belts all over the house. Is it that hard to hang them up in the closet? Is it? Really?
I LIKE: beets. (So what? At least it's not brussel sprouts!)
I LOVE: 48 Hours Mystery. And Grey's Anatomy.* Oh yeah, and my family.

* Thanks for the reminder, Kate!

Note to self:

If a recipe calls for julienned carrots, scallions, & apples---actually, if it calls for julienned anything--- do not attempt.

I repeat, do not attempt.


Updated: No missing digits, just lots of swearing and heavy sighing because chopping up all those things into little tiny sticks is a complete waste of time. And really, really annoying.

Confession

You may not know this about me, but I can be slightly, well, ditzy. And yes, I am blonde (naturally, even!). Apologies to all the intellectual blondes out there, I really don't mean to give us all a bad name.

Thing is, I often forget what day of the week it is, or that Memorial Day is next weekend, as opposed to a few weeks from now. I forget when I tell Heidi to come over for dinner, so she arrives to an empty house, since I've taken the kids out for tacos. I go to the grocery store because we are completely out of trash bags and come home with $40 of groceries, but no bags. I respond to birthday party invitations, put the invitation on the refrigerator, write the date in the calendar, and still forget to attend. I've been known to start the washing machine and then forget to put the clothes in.

One of the more annoying manifestations of this trait occurs, almost daily*, in the shower. I'll be standing there, the warm water running down my body, when I'll notice the bottles of product on the shelf. "Hmm", I'll think, "did I wash my hair already?" Then follows a minutes long conversation in my head, debating whether I washed my hair, or just my face. Or did I mistakenly use the face scrub on my hair? Because I can remember opening that particular bottle, but I don't remember washing my face. Maybe I should just wash my hair again--but my hair is so dry already, if I wash it twice, it will look worse than usual. Then again, if I don't wash it again, it may very well turn out that I didn't wash it at all, and then this whole shower will be wasted. I'll be walking around with the same greasy hair that prompted me to get in in the first place.

It's about this point that my mind generally wanders to something else--whether having my kids so close together makes me as trashy as Britney Spears, for example. A few minutes later, the product bottles will catch my eye again, and I have to start the conversation in my head one more time.

I'm quite sure if I was a brunette, this wouldn't keep happening to me. Think I should dye my hair?


*It would definitely occur daily, if I took a shower daily.

Lazy is as Lazy does

It all started last night. Lance was gone for the weekend already, so it had been me and kids, alone, all day. One day--no big deal. But once the kids were finally in bed (note, I did not say asleep) and I surveyed the toy-littered floor, the crumb-covered table, the dish-filled sink, it seemed like a bit much for one person to handle. Self, I said. Self, why don't you just leave this mess and clean it up tomorrow? God knows they'll just make another mess in the morning, why clean up twice?

So I left it. Ate my frozen pizza on the floor in the family room, amongst matchbox cars and half-full sippy cups, ignored the giggles from the kids' room, and watched several season finales on TiVo. Eventually, the kids fell asleep, and I moved into the bedroom, where I let my dirty clothes languish on the floor, and when I gulped the last sip of water from the water bottle, I just tossed it across the room towards the trash can, not caring when it missed by several inches.

This morning I awoke, at the lovely hour of 6:03am, to a disaster of a house. Looking around made me crabby, and I barked at the kids to hurry up. Still, when the time came to clean up breakfast, I couldn't manage much more than throwing the dishes in the dishwasher and starting it.

After dropping Isaac off at school, Vivian and I headed to the grocery store. Once there, I decided I didn't feel like cooking, and why would I, since Lance wasn't home? So I just grabbed some cereal and blueberries and soy milk, figuring that would hold us for a couple days. I had an hour or so at home to clean up before I had to pick Isaac up, but again, I couldn't find the motivation. Lance wouldn't be home and no one else would see the house, so who exactly was I cleaning for?

Lather, rinse, repeat. Every opportunity I had to clean up today, I let pass by. As a result, the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, the sink is full of dirty dishes, the floor is littered with crumbs from breakfast, lunch and dinner, you can't walk in the playroom because of all the toys, and there are clothes all over the living room floor (a half-hearted attempt to do laundry, where I just moved the dirty clothes from the hamper to the living room where at some point, I suppose, I will sort them).

You know what? Letting all the dirt and crap pile up did not make me a better mother today. It's not as if I used the time I might otherwise use cleaning to play with my kids. In fact, other than a 10 minute dance party, I'm not sure I played with them at all. Actually, I spent most of the time exasperated that they were bothering me while I tried to blog, or watch more TiVo, or read People. I was the definition of a shitty mom today.

I'm sure it was an attack of the lazies. This used to happen to me at work: if I was busy, I would crank out work, getting a ridiculous amount of things done, and done well. But the days that were slow? Mistakes right and left, not to mention a bunch of stuff simply left undone.

Crap. Guess that means I'm going to have to clean up tonight.

Or maybe tomorrow morning.


(Incidentally, I'm blaming the lazies for the plethora of sub-par posts around here lately, too. Don't tell me otherwise, k?)

Heavy

Whoa, I just spent some time typing a post, entitled "Fair", and you are very relieved that I re-read it before I hit publish. Talk about depressing!

I'm blaming the weather, as it has been ATROCIOUS here in SoCal lately. I'm talking one hour of sunshine a day for the last 30 days and temperatures in the high sixties. YUCK. If I'm going to live in a place where the property values are this inflated, I should at least get the benefit of sunny beautiful weather, for pete's sake.

Also depressing: Lance is out of town, on his annual father-son fishing trip. He left yesterday morning, and I haven't killed the children yet, so that's something.

(Does it seem like he's always going out of town? No? Huh.)

I'm gaining weight. Maybe my dryer is just really working hard lately, shrinking up all my clothes. Or is it because I went off the pill? I thought I was supposed to LOSE weight when I got off those hormones. On the other hand, I finally have my sex drive back, so I guess I shouldn't complain. (Though, I'm not sure about that trade off--skinny versus sex.)

I make no apologies for the fucked-up-ness of this post (or was that an apology already?). I'm alone with the kids, people, take what you can get.

Carnival

Remember the carnival last year? How Isaac was soooo excited to get on the rides but then once they started going he freaked out?



Well, the carnival came to town again last weekend. This year, the rides didn't scare Isaac away at all. In fact, we couldn't tear him away from them.



At first, even Vivian thought the rides looked kind of fun, and for a minute I thought she was going to surprise me, and ride the bumper boats with no fear.



Sadly, it all proved a bit much for her. Although she did attempt to get on several rides, she never managed to sit down long enough for the ride to start. This frustrated her to no end: I could tell she really really wanted to ride, but her fear held her back.

See how pissed off she is at herself?


We had a nice couple of hours anyway, and even though this traveling carnival is pretty low-rent, I look forward to attending every year. I'm hoping next year, both kids will be brave enough for the rides.



(In the interest of full disclosure, I should add that I made Lance ride all the ones that Isaac was too small to ride alone on. Not because I was scared (!) but because I'm such a wimp that even the kiddie rides make me vomit.)


Also, thanks so much for yesterday. I am feeling a bit better--nothing like a cathartic sob-fest to clear your head--and I'm not just saying that!

Exceptional

When I was in high school, I remember thinking, with typical self-absorbed angst, that my life would be so much better if I was REALLY good at something. If only I was the prettiest girl, or the smartest student, or the best athlete, or the coolest kid. Instead, I was just okay, at everything. No, I wasn't the prettiest, but I wasn't ugly. I wasn't the smartest, but I was in the top half of my class. Wasn't the best athlete, but I made all the varsity teams. Far from the coolest, but I wasn't a dork, either. Just so fucking average, in every way. I really envied those kids who had something to define themselves with, who were stand-outs. (Truth is, I was far too lazy to do the kind of work that might have made me a stand out, but my teenage brain just blamed the rotten luck to have been born without some god-given talent.)

Last night, I watched the season finale of Grey's Anatomy that the capricious TiVo gods had generously taped for me after all. I cried and cried and cried some more. I shook with sobs. I could not catch a breath, I was that upset. You know, because a fictional character on a television show died during sweeps. Shocking.

But here's the thing: that's not really why I was crying. And when I finally figured that out, I realized that there IS something that I'm exceptional at. I can be a stand-out, just watch me.

Turns out, I'm really, really good at saying "I'm fine!" "It's okay!" The smiling shrug, the soldiering on, the "don't worry about me"s--these are things I've got down pat. And it's not as if I'm in denial--because I'm also quite adept at platitudes like: "yes, it sucks, but I try to look at the bright side" or "I know it's going to be difficult for him, but it could be so much worse".

What I'm NOT good at? Crying in front of people I love--or, people I don't love! Or people I don't know! Here, take my screaming child and cut him up, he's all yours. I am a rock, I don't cry! Whee, this is fun! Definitely NOT good at saying "Guess what? I'm terrified, and I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable, because this is what I feel like and you are not making me feel better by telling me that everything's going to be alright. In fact, you don't know what THE FUCK you are talking about."

Much better at saying " Thank you so much, I actually feel okay about it now. What's going on with you?"

So last night, when Denny died, I lost. my. shit. I cried because it does suck that Isaac is sick. I cried because handing him over to the surgeon last week while he begged me not to through hot tears killed a part of my soul that I will never get back. I cried because I am terrified of what the future will bring us, terrified that this will not work, terrified that even if everything goes exactly right it is still going to be REALLY, REALLY hard in ten years or so, and I don't know if I have what it takes to get through that. Cried because he is my son, and I want to make things easy for him, and I can't. This is hard, dammit. Hard now, hard later, hard for the rest of his life.

And it doesn't really matter that it could be so much worse. Yes, it could. Yes, Isaac is fine, Isaac is not going to die, I am okay, we are all okay. That is true. But the feelings I have about the whole situation--the whole shitty, un-fair, craptacular situation--those feelings are valid, and real, and they have to go somewhere.

I suppose it's a good a place as any for them to go to the television.


Tomorrow, when I read this, I will be embarrassed at my dramatics, and probably delete the whole ridiculous post.

Loves me, Loves me not

Conversation, 7:15 am

Isaac, running into our bedroom: Daddy! Daddy! I did it! I slept 'till seven!

Lance: Good boy!

Amy: Good job, bud!

Isaac: I looked at the clock and there was a seven right there and I got up!

Amy: I love you, sweetie.

Vivian, calling from her room: Isaac! Isaac! I want to get up!

Isaac, running back to their room: Isn't that great, Vivi? I waked up at seven!

Vivian: I love you, Isaac!

Isaac: I know!

Vivian: I love you!


Conversation: 7:45am

Isaac: GET OUT OF THE WAY!

Vivian: NO!

Isaac: I CAN'T SEE! MOMMY!!

Vivian: Go Away, ISaac! Go Away! Stop doonin that!


Conversation, 8:05am:

Isaac: See, Vivi, this is the elephant book, not that one.

Vivi: Elephant?

Isaac: Here, Viv. Right here. Just turn that page.

Vivian: Why?

Isaac: Do you want me to kiss that boo-boo?


Conversation: 8:15 am

Vivian: NOOOO! Isaac!

Isaac: I want that spoon!

Vivian: MOMMY!!! MINE!

Isaac: Nooo! Mine! My spoon! Mommy! Stop it, Vivian!

Vivian: YOU STOP IT!

People!

Stop blogging about Grey's Anatomy! It's on my Tivo but I haven't had a chance to watch it yet, and I keep clicking over from bloglines only to have to click back off quickly before I read about what happens on your fascinating blogs. Does Izzy get fired? Does Denny die? Don't tell me ... I'm off to watch.


Update: Crap! For some reason Monday night's episode didn't record. My only hope is that the TiVo in the bedroom recorded it, but since Isaac is sleeping in there right now, I can't check. Plus, Monday night's episode was two hours, and I can almost guarantee that it won't have recorded both hours. I know Burke can't die, but Denny . . . would Izzy be charged with manslaughter? (Oh wait, it's a hospital show, not a crime show.)

Annoying.

That in the time it takes my pretty pretty husband to shave and shower, I have gotten myself dressed, changed Vivian's diaper and dressed her, helped Isaac pee and dressed him, made both of their breakfasts and helped them eat, brushed their teeth and gotten them into their carseats.


More Annoying:

When he says, "Oh, do you need some help?", AFTER all the aforementioned tasks have been completed.

Spread the Love

I am late to this party, but Her Bad Mother has started a contest of sorts, a love-in, if you will, to celebrate all the great mom and dad bloggers out there, and especially the ones that have personally inspired you.

Describe them, promote them, link them and then Her Bad Mother is going to do a giant linky post on Sunday or Monday including everyone.

Okay, so it's Friday already and probably everyone's already heard about this and if you haven't it may be too late, especially since you East Coasters are about to be done with work, but I wanted to jump into the fray since blogging has become such an important part of my life and I need to show my appreciation whenever I can.

The problem with this chore, of course, is that I want to talk about EVERYONE. There are so many blogs that I read and adore, that have inspired me, made me think, consoled me, educated me and so on. How can I pick just a few?

The answer is, I can't. But I don't think sending HBM my blogroll, plus all the new blogs I've added to bloglines is exactly what she had in mind. So I apologize in advance to everyone I leave out--please do not take it personally.

Whatever happened to my rock and roll lifestyle?-- I'm not sure if this one is truly fair, since I've known Mommygoth in "real life" for oh, about 18 years (gasp!) now (oh, and we met as college freshmen, not as toddlers. Gasp! Gasp!). I'm including her anyway, since her blog is beautifully written and heartbreakingly honest. Lately she's only been posting once a week, which is just NOT ENOUGH, but I'm sure she'll be back up to several times a week real soon. Right, Mommygoth? Right?

Issa's World--Melissa is one of my newer blog finds. There is nothing better than finding a new blog, especially one that speaks to you. Melissa is much younger than I am (bitch!) but still manages to write wonderful posts that even an old hag like me can relate to. She is bright and intuitive and funny, besides.

KidSquared--You want kid stories? She's got 'em. You want political opinions? She's got 'em. Mieke is a wonderful, passionate writer and her feelings come out in full force on her blog. You can't help but get swept up in her love for her boys, in her desire to improve our world.

Just Another Day-- Gina is a fantastic blogger, and you need to visit her right. now. Her blog is funny without being ridiculous, smart without being too serious. She can tackle tough subjects without taking herself too seriously, which is something I really appreciate, and which sometimes is hard to find in the blogosphere. Sometimes I feel like you either get a blog that is mostly fluff, like mine, or you get the more intellectual, political ones that lost their sense of humor long ago. Gina combines both with finesse, as you will see for yourself as soon as you visit. Now go.

Okay, I have to stop now or I'll be writing until next week. Many thanks to all of you! Happy Mother's Day!

San Diego, balm for a burnt out Amy

Okay, so here, finally, is the wrap-up of our weekend in San Diego, at the wedding of a very good friend, while the kids stayed home with grandma.

Since it's Friday and I'm lazy, a photo-essay:

Good Times:
The unbridled joy of the bride and groom, but especially the groom.


The fact that Heidi confiscated my camera, which meant that some pictures actually got taken. And good ones, too!



The incredible awesome-ness of the wedding band. Besides being a 30 piece band, complete with dancing girls in sequined dresses and 18 year old blonde surfer dudes in shiny tuxedos singing Earth Wind and Fire at octaves usually heard at the opera, they featured a blind piano player doing Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles impressions, several outfit changes for the whole band, a fiddle player to challenge any Kentucky blue grass band, and a God Bless America medley which might have been cheesy, but for the one soldier at the wedding, in full uniform, standing at attention through the whole thing. Oh, and later in the evening they handed out props, like the guitar you saw me "playing" in that other post. Seriously, even the fact that they sang both "Kokomo" and "I just called to say I love you" did not take away from the fun times we had dancing. Oh, and maybe the best thing of all was the priest throwing down when they sang Mary J. Blige's Praise Me* towards the end of the night. I WISH I had a photo of that.

there he is, before the dancing started

the band, going off

That my husband performed his best man duties admirably, including giving a nice speech at the rehearsal dinner that didn't even embarrass me.

(I'd love to have a picture here, but--well, Heidi wasn't at the rehearsal dinner, and although I did bring the camera, I didn't remember to take it out of my purse. Sorry, honey. He looked hot, though, trust me.)

That Heidi's new boyfriend continues to step up to the plate, say the right things, and be the right guy.

(Again, no photo. The Cake, as we call him, is relatively new, so he did not get the invite to the reception. He came for the weekend though, and loaned Heidi and I his porche to drive to the church and back. Very cool.)

That so many people who were at the wedding are good friends and good people.



That my kids enjoyed spending the weekend with their grandparents almost as much as Lance and I enjoyed spending the weekend without them.



That my dress, due to the extreme tightness around the bodice, which required two people to zip up and made breathing difficult, actually gave me some cleavage. A miracle in and of itself.



(the existence of cleavage is enough to overlook the fact that my face looks terrible in this shot. Focus on the boobs, people.)

Not so good times:

That I lost Heidi's $450 sweater at the last bar we went to, after remembering to grab it from the church, the cocktail spot, and the reception hall, all of which are places where, HAD I left it there, I would probably have gotten a bit more help than the guy who answered the phone at the bar ("What? Sweater?Oh, I don't think so. Someone else probably stole it already.")

See the sweater?

there it is again

That although we managed to arrive in Del Mar with an hour and half to spare, we still missed our designated start time at the church for the rehearsal by 15 minutes, since my pretty pretty husband was so busy primping, AND saying things like "Don't be such a nag!" "It's only 15 minutes away!" "Chill-ax, babe". Oh, I love him so. The bride was thrilled, as you can imagine.

That the 8-year-old dress I brought to wear to the rehearsal dinner made me look exactly like a stuffed sausage. Since apparently when I tried on said 8-year-old dress a week or so before the wedding, I was drunk. Or blind. Or something that caused me to believe it actually still fit.

(No picture. Duh. Haven't I embarrassed myself enough?)

That there was not sufficient water pressure at the ghetto, I mean Best Western, where we were staying to get the shampoo out of my hair.
(See all above photos.)

That we decided against calling a cab and instead walked 1 mile to the hotel from the bar (withOUT the sweater, I should add) in barefeet.

And that was our weekend. Very much fun, and worth the life-threatening hangover I had all day Sunday.

The happy couple. We owe it all to you:



*Okay, I was very drunk at this point, but I swear it was a Mary J Blige song, and I swear she was singing Praise me! or Praise him! but now I can't find a song like that anywhere.
In any event, the priest was wasted and REALLY enjoying whatever song it was.

I'm begging here

Okay, people. I have tons to tell you about our weekend in San Diego which was much, much fun, BUT I need to ask for your help.

Remember Adelaide? Well, if you don't, here's the drill: she is a beautiful 6 month old baby girl who was recently diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. I'm sure you can imagine the horror of such a diagnoses, especially since, as of today, there is no known cure.

Mieke (who has a fantastic blog, by the way--you should check her out), is "real life" friends with Adelaide and her parents, and has signed up to run in the Great Strides walk to raise money for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. She set her goal at $5000, and as of right now, she has raised $4035. The walk is three weeks away--please help her reach that goal!

Any amount of money will help--$5, $10, whatever you can spare. Adelaide and her parents are so grateful for all the support they've received so far, and we just have a little ways more to go.

I'm leaving this post up for awhile, to encourage everybody to give what they can. So if you want to hear any tales about this:



Take a quick minute to donate a few dollars! Thank you so much!!

Click here.


(Hey, if I can post that horrendous picture of myself for all the world to see, surely you can send in 5 bucks, right? Right?)