Monday, October 31, 2011

Even Cinderella Needs a Schedule.

Can I just go ahead and say that I thought that I was going to have to abandon ship (this blog) with this new interface thingy? Confusing! But I think I've figured it out.

Today is Halloween. To the world, it's also the day Kim Kardashian filed for divorce from Kris Humphries (shock) and Jessica Simpson announced she was pregnant (even bigger shock).

But to Chloe and Stella, today is the best day ever. Because it's Halloween. Because they get to dress up and go trick-or-treating. And because they finally understand that Halloween, dressing up and trick-or-treating go together. And it's the best day ever for me because I get to witness their excitement. And mainly it's Chloe's excitement for Halloween and Stella's excitement because Chloe's really excited.

When Chloe woke up this morning, I heard her open her bedroom door, go through the toy cabinet, and walk into the living room. She sat on my lap with her pumpkin, gave me a good morning kiss and hug and said, 

"Mama, I wanna go outside."

"Baby, we can't go outside. It's dark and only 6:45 in the morning and I still need at least 3 more cups of coffee before I would even contemplate such a thing."

"Mama, I wanna get in the car."

"We can't get in the car, Chlo. It's too early in the morning."

After much thought, "Mama, I wanna go trick-or-treating."

"Not until tonight. We have several things to do today before we go trick-or-treating."

"Okay."

For the next hour, repeat the above conversation every five minutes.

So being the brilliant mom that I am, I came up with an even more brilliant plan. I made Chloe a schedule. Now, if I were a super-creative and crafty-type mom, I would've come up with an elaborate, picture-coded schedule with magnets and stickers and bells and whistles and things.

But I ain't crafty.

And you won't want to pin this. But it has worked like a dream.

I present her schedule....

And I know what you're thinking. It's pretty uncreative and not very useful for a 2-year old who can't read. But it has worked. And she's never been more excited to complete the tasks on her schedule. And I've never been so happy to see that my daughter loves a schedule as much as I do. 

And so when this little Halloween fanatic asks when we're trick-or-treating, I just point to her schedule and we count all of the activities until the big event.
I hope that all of you have a wonderful Halloween and I can't wait to see pics of all of your kids.You know that I'll post about 652 of mine. And they'll probably all be blurry because I haven't used my camera for a month of Sundays and apparently you have to practice to get great shots. So...I'll be practicing tonight. While my girls are living out their Halloween dreams. "Cinderella with a Schedule" style.

Monday, October 17, 2011

31.

I am 31. Officially. It is my birthday after all.

And it's been a good one.

The celebration started this weekend. All of my family came in town for my birthday dinner and we spent it at Othello's. Good food. Good atmosphere. Great company. 
 

I got about 50 pictures of Stella planting big kisses on her cousin Jack. Can't wait to show them these one day. Maybe on each of their first dates.

Chloe was not into the kissing. Not in the least. She taught him other things. Like ignoring your baby cousin.

And drinking out of a straw. All very important concepts.


 This was our side of the table. A bunch of winners if you ask me. Especially this one.

And these two as well.

After dinner we headed outside and stumbled across a block party. So of course the girls had to dance. 

And dance. (I have to tell you that they each got a set of dance skills from one of their parents. I'll never tell you which one got their dad's acceptable skills and my, well....I don't even know how to explain my dance moves.)

And even little Jack got in on the action. 

We took quite a few group shots and these are the best. I promise. I'm not kidding. Group pictures is really not our thing.

See what I mean? 

But in all honesty, my birthday weekend was awesome. I love being with my family and we had such a blast.

While I had major reservations about turning 30, 31 has been a breeze. I'm happy to be 31. Happy to be right where I am. 

Today has gone great. I knew it was going to be a good one when Chloe and Stella sang me Happy Birthday this morning. The best rendition I've heard yet. I had a nice 6.5 mile run, ate the rest of my birthday cake for breakfast, trained a few clients, spent the afternoon with my girls and I'm about to spend the evening with my guy. Can't beat that.

Here's to hoping for a great year! 


Friday, October 7, 2011

If your Dad is going to teach you to golf.

It's best to do it in a pair of sparkly heels.






At least that's how we do it around here.

I hope all of you have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Another Year, Another Mom of the Year Award

I've won this award about three times now. Because I'm just that awesome. I'm not sure who sponsors this award...or even where you send your recommendations, but I just keep winning.

I left a little something out of my post yesterday. A sad detail. A detail that leaves me confused as to why Stella is so pumped about bands. Or maybe she just gets a whiff of a band and begins to feel a little sting in her eye. I'm not sure either way...

While at my mom's school for homecoming, things were getting a little hectic before the homecoming parade. A few kids were leaving the class to get on their floats, other kids were watching a movie while inhaling candy, I was trying to scarf down a cheeseburger my mom brought us from the cafeteria, and there was one girl who had her eyes intently on the girls.

You know this girl. Okay you don't really know her, but you know the type. She was so sweet and so intrigued with my children. She talked to them and held their hands and played with them. I'm pretty sure that she has more of a motherly instinct as a 4th-grader as I do as an almost 31-year old mother of two. I have to admit that I admired her ease and wished that I had a just an ounce of her ability.

My mom announced to her class and to me that it was time to go. (When she said it to me she really meant, get a hold of her children, put down the cheeseburger and get ready to go.) She was in a little bit of a mad rush which put me in a mad rush. The 4th grade girl stayed as calm as a cucumber; helping me get the girls in the stroller, handing them their drinks, making them laugh. This girl was good. I was a mess.

My mom handed me the sunscreen and said, "They'll probably need this." I couldn't have agreed more. It was the kind of sunscreen that sprays a mist. And while I hadn't used this kind before, we had the same type at home. Except for one major difference.

This was not the "tear-free" type.

And stupid me, I sprayed it all over Stella. Just like I always do. But this time she rubbed her eyes and started screaming.

I felt like a loser mom.

As I was trying to clean her up, I kept trying to reassure Stella that I loved her and that I was so sorry and that I felt so horrible and that the sting would go away soon. While I was trying to get the sunscreen out of her eyes, I kept hearing that little girl explain to her fellow classmates,

"She sprayed sunscreen in her eyes. That's why she's crying."

Except that it my ears it sounded less like the sweet little explanation that it was and more like a booming announcement over the loudest speaker imaginable.

"SHE SPRAYED SUNSCREEN IN HER EYES. THAT'S WHY SHE'S CRYING. SHE MIGHT BE THE WORST MOM EVER!"

And I hid my head in shame for the rest of the parade. And Stella eventually recovered from the sunscreen. She's still recovering from the shock of having her mom spray her directly in the eye with which I'm sure felt totally like mace. Here's what she looked like for much of the afternoon, poor thing.


And I can still feel that little girl looking at me with horror. I'm sure she still feels like a logical explanation for my actions are in order. My explanation is this. My name is Morgandi. I'm a mom. I'm not perfect. I really like cheeseburgers. And I try my best. Really I do. But most of the lessons I've learned about being parent have been like some sort of sick science experiment. I try something. It doesn't work. Most of the time it really, really fails, but I know better the next time. Or the time after that. Or the time after that. But I can promise you this, I will never spray my baby in the eye with sunscreen again. Especially not when you're around.

You can send my mom of the year nominations to this address.

momoftheyear@momoftheyear.com.

Just don't tell them this story. Okay?

Monday, October 3, 2011

I'm With the Band-Aid


My little girls are obsessed with many things. Shoes, princesses, sing-along DVDs, dolls, cars, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes. Okay, you get the picture. One thing I hadn't assumed they would be obsessed with is the brass family. But apparently, you show them a trumpet, a trombone, a tuba, drums (okay, not part of the brass family); they go nuts.

I took the girls to my mom's school for the homecoming parade and football game. We had a blast. I had fun visiting my old high school and the girls had fun with all of the students. As we lined up for the parade, not much caught their attention, but this did.

And as it got closer, you could see the wheels turning in their sweet, little heads. It was as if their heads were saying,

"Noise. Noise. Really loud noise. Bright outfits. Awesome hats. Why aren't they wearing high heels? Noise. Noise. Noise"

And this obsession lasted through the rest of the afternoon with immeasurable amounts of conversation spent discussing drums and trumpets and trombones.

And it lasted through the football game. We sat right by the band, so the girls were in utopia. Chloe got face-to-face with a tuba, and she talked to the tuba (not the boy holding it) in a very matter-of-fact manner.

"Hi, Tuba.

My name is Chloe.

How are you?

Bye, Tuba."

So this morning, I was not surprised when Chloe ran in the house screaming,

"Mommy I hear a band-aid.

Trumpets. Trombones. Tubas. Drums!!!!"

And without any prompting from me (and not a chance that I would correct her calling the band, band-aid) they pulled their chairs up to the edge of the porch and listened intently to our local high school marching band practicing.

And they stared off into the distance, listening to the band-aid.

I watched and thought about how they looked like a little, old married couple; and how they could possibly be in the band one day. And how I would be so proud to raise a band nerd. And how one of them would probably persuade the band director to let them wear heels with their outfits.
That would be one stylish band-aid, if you ask me.