Holy Weekend

I thought I'd share with you some photos from Matty's First Communion last weekend. I will limit my scathing commentary to a few captions.




How can you not trust this face?



It's like herding cats to get them all together and smiling in a photo



Dad and Mary Anne came up to celebrate. Check out Amy's choice in footwear.


Matty's restaurant choice was a Japanese Steakhouse. It cost $400 for him to watch the chef and eat a bowl of miso soup.



Jess thinks the dog dish is her personal bird bath.




We think this sign clearly means, "No Dancing."

There are tumbleweeds blowing across my keyboard

If I had the time, I work on my time management skills.

This is the first time I've sat down to my desk in at least 2 weeks. I've cleared a path through the Webkinz trading cards to reach the keyboard, since that's all this computer has been used for lately. To say I'm behind is such a gross understatement, that it is libelous. Seriously. I've forgotten how to write. And spell.

I must now commence on writing about the monthly meeting last night that I vowed not to blog about--1000 words on freaking driveway maintenance options--and I'm already dreading opening that hideous blank Word document to begin.

But the good news is that I have cleared the calendar today of all guests, errands, sacraments, laundry, parties, appointments and medically necessary bodily functions so that I can catch up. I have chained myself to this desk with a dictionary and a pot of coffee. I will not move until every blessed deadline is met.

I hope Jessie doesn't need a diaper change today, and if she does, it will have to be in the middle of the driveway as I do research.

Excuses, excuses

1st Communion.

Column.

Real life intrigue and drama.

Deadlines.

More house guests.

Weekend away to celebrate various events that warrant celebrating.

Baby yoga.

Temps nearing 90.


In other words, no time to blog.

Until Monday...

My dog is starting to look like me

So you know I'm a helpless spaz, right? Don't worry, you're not offending me, I am quite aware of this character flaw. If there was a 12-step program for spazoids, I'd be in it. Enrolled, but I'm such a spaz that I'd only make to step 3 before some domestic diaster would befall me and I would become distracted by something shiny in a size 8, and then I would forget to go to all of the meetings.

But there is one thing this spaz can't handle--and that's Jingle escaping.

This happens on a weekly basis. Never my kids, but some unsuspecting person leaves 2 centimeters between their body and the door, or takes more than .0007 seconds to walk in the house. The canine Houdini can escape any holding cell.

So today, the guy installing a new screen door in the back lanai leaves the gate open. I hate the guy installing the new screen door on the back lanai. I want to smash him with the new screen door and then go make him explain to my kids why their dog only has three legs now. Who leaves a freaking gate open at someone's house with a dog barking at the window?

Anyway, the 26 mile marathon begins. Even though I swear every time that I will not chase that dog--she is faster than um, well..a dog that's just been let out from the idiot guy installing the new screen door on the back lanai. We can't catch her.

But after 4 hours of fruitless pursuit through ponds, backyards, the Siberian steppes, we decide to give up. One last pass with the car, and then we'll have to go home and print up posters that read: "Lost Cheetah. No Reward."

But lo and behold, 2 neighborhoods over, some nice woman is holding the idiot dog by the collar in her driveway.

It's the Mayor's wife.

The First Lady of Safety Harbor has my stinking, filthy, dripping beast. Sheepishly, I take Jingle into my car, apologizing profusely for having such a spaz for a dog.

Irony is cruel. And exhausting.

And smells like a retention pond.


So I am preparing for Matty's First Communion amongst other things this week.

Art-Pilates-Hockey-Etiquette Class

I can't possibly catch up on all of the happenings over the last few days without sounding like a terribly boring, obligatory Christmas newsletter, but there are some highlights that I must share.

Fabulous idea I should have explored sooner: Baby yoga. Amy has moved up to the next level in her art class--her gluing pom-poms on construction paper is truly a sign of giftedness--but it's a solo gig. Meaning I'm not supposed to stay in there with her for 45 minutes. So they suggest for $300 more, I could take Baby Yoga at the same time in the room next door.

I did not know if I wanted to become the type of mother who looks for her baby's center while in the Lotus position, but hell, I'm up for anything at this stage of the game.

So Friday was our first class, and let me tell you, there is little baby in baby yoga. Basically, she crawls around the mats screaming in delight that no sibling is taking a toy from her, and I get twisted into a pretzel so my abs can scream "Namaste! Namaste!" I loved it. Zen is balancing on two Cheerios before Jessie can stuff them into her mouth.

The in-laws are here so I get the treat of watching Stevie's hockey sans little ones. I will tell you that this is a different experience than one might expect. I was not at the snack bar every 2 minutes buying ring pops and then extracting said candy from Jessie's hair. No, in the balmy 2 degrees of the rink, I actually got to watch his game, and all of the bad behavior by the parents in the stands. Unbelievable.

I didn't believe Sean when he told me the day before that there was a Mom fight complete with shoving and repeated use of a particularly bad word for the female anatomy.

Yes, that word. The one that even without combining its four singularly innocuous letters in that alarming, most offensive combination in writing, makes you all wince in collective shame and makes you want to take a shower and then wash that mother's mouth out with the soap.

Ladies, (and I use that term with all of the sad irony I can muster) please. If you find yourself throwing that word around in public at a 12 year old's hockey game, you need some professional help.

Might I suggest the Baby Yoga class at 12:45 on Fridays?

Alternative Titles for this Post

*Seriously?

*It’s only half of a tank.

*I can’t afford to vote Republican this November.

*Turns out, you can’t live in your car after foreclosure.

*Seriously?

*Shell Posts Record Profits This Quarter--Thanks to Me

*Did I mention this isn’t even a full tank?

*I remember back in ‘aught 7 when gas was $2.50 a gallon and I drove you to school.

*It’s probably safe for Walgreen’s to put the Sudafed back on the shelves, but they may want to lock up the Petroleum Jelly and Oil of Olay.

*Seriously…

Blowing out my candles

Halfway through the birthday and all is well!

I just had my hair done so as not to look as though I've had that many birthdays already, and then another gal lunch with an old friend. The weather is gorgeous--as well as my hair--so the day is going well.

In addition to some Red Velvet cake body gel and a Barnes and Noble gift certificate, I did get another pretty funky gift today. Check this out:




I think that means I have the 59th most influential parenting blog. Or 59th most idiotic. Or 59th most ridiculous. Or, do at least 59 things differently than me if you want functional children. Or the number of drinks I've had during my birthday week. And it's only Wednesday afternoon.

Whatever 59 refers to, I think it's pretty cool.

And I also think the world needs serious, serious, help.

Birthday Eve

So, whatcha think? I think the color goes well with my eyes (usually a bloodshot red) and is quite slimming through the hips...

How cool is this??? Careful, the paint is still wet in a couple of places and I'm still putting things away in the drawers of my sidebar, but I'm really liking the new digs. Thanks to my friend Jo-Lynne, the Vern Yip of the blogosphere for the makeover.

*awkward segue*

Yesterday, I went out with the gals for one of my 8 birthday lunches. I told you I was celebrating all week. It was nice. Nothing like a 2 Sangria lunch with friends to say Happy Birthday. 2 days early.

And speaking of birthdays, here's a shot from a party we went to on Sunday. Please note it's what all the little 4 year old girls have as party favors in Florida.

Reverse Deja Vu

Yesterday I had a reverse deja vu.

After a full day of hockey and parties, Stevie and I bagged the banquet and went out to dinner together instead. One of the many reasons I love that kid, is that he eats so well. And anything. Always has. So he chooses the Thai place because he wants sushi. What's not to love?

So we are sitting in our ornate booth munching on panang chicken when two older ladies come in and sit in the booth behind us. I can't see them, but I can hear every word.

The one is launching into a well-rehearsed diatribe about a mutual friend, "Helen." It seems Helen is cheap, annoying, anti-social, and a liar. (I feel a pang for Helen when I hear that they won't stop on their way to the theater to get her ice cream.) Anyway, in addition to Helen's many faults, she also must be a piss-poor Bridge player, because one of them says this:

She wouldn't play with their group because they played the trump card with the diamond bust.

I have absolutely no idea what that means, but I could hear myself saying it 40 years from now.

I wrote it down on the back of my Bruce Springsteen ticket sub with the sushi pencil so I would remember it when I'm 70.

Other stuff in my life

Okay, my re-entry back into real life is almost complete. Thanks to cleaning under beds, doing more laundry than a Kennmore front-loader, and restocking all the crazy on the shelves, I'm almost there. Next week, if I make it to the long-neglected gym and our new baby yoga class, with a rogue trip to the pediatrician's office for at least one of them, I am officially back in the swing. What a long stange trip it's been.

This week also marks some other significant mental milestones. It's my birthday (Wednesday, not today so hold your e-cards)and in addition to turning an even number which somehow in my mind is more attractive than the an odd, I had made the mental declaration that I would be finished or close to the closing chapters of my novel.

This did not happen.

But I realize now, that in order to do it right, it was an unrealistic goal anyway. I am much further than I ever thought I would be, and I can declare 1/4 of the way done, but I think it was the most difficult and time-consuming quarter of the process. So I'm giving myself the gift of congratulating myself for making it this far, even after long-neglecting our heroine who has been left unceremoniously at a Halloween party for the last three weeks listening to "Monster Mash" play over and over and over.

But it was a graveyard smash.

Disney Day 3--The Finale

Sunday:

6:42 a.m. : Please just 5 more minutes of sleep….Please….

6:51: I’ll wear my hair up and sleep for 5 more minutes.

6:58: It’s not like no one will notice I’m still in my pajamas. If Donald doesn’t wear pants, than I certainly don’t have to waste the time putting them on.

7:30: I am on time for our character breakfast. My hair is still slightly wet, but I am on time. We have breakfast and get our pictures taken with characters, because it’s a character breakfast after all.



We meet up with some more Disney folks who give us more tips. Kris and I have started to ask the others Moms to record those tips on video camera so we can share them in a fun way when we get back. They should be fun.

9:00 or something. We head on over to the All-Star Music hotel to tour some of the family suites they have just renovated. Cool, affordable, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, bedroom, living room suites for those of us with larger families.

We head back to the hotel and people are leaving at different times, so we’re a little melancholy saying good-bye. It takes us 3 1/2 hours.

I pack up and check out. Since I’m driving, I load up the car, and then go back in to do some souvenir shopping for the kids and get 1 hour of pool time. (I spend $84 on said souvenirs, which is the only time I pulled out my wallet all weekend. 2 of the most expensive items get mysteriously disappear from the bag, but Matty and Sean don’t believe that it was their presents that got stolen. :( )

I sit with MaryBeth and Kris in lounge chairs around the sandy bottom, lazy river pool and we agree on several things:

1) The amount of emails passed the week before between us on what shoes we were allowed to take was completely warranted. 7+ pairs each for 2 days is completely reasonable.

2) We will never be able to blog completely about all that has happened--but we sure will use up the entire Internet trying. (Sorry if anyone had online banking or school research to do this week.)

3) At first, Disney without children seemed a little strange. But after 17 bottles of wine in Italy, no double-stroller collapsing on a crowded tram, and no waiting in line for characters (they came to us) I could get a little used to this.

4) You can indeed eat 17 desserts at one sitting and still be hungry for more 3 hours later.

5) 67 times really isn’t that freakish when you consider it was 67 nights since 2001. (Okay, Kris and Marybeth did not really agree to this statement but I really need some reinforcement here. Either that or information on their frequent flyer on Space Mountain program.)

6) We have met and enjoyed some of the most creative, intelligent, beautiful women in the blogosphere, and we are all better for it.

10:34 p.m. After reuniting with a patient husband, 4 wonderful kids, and 1 stupid dog over a belated birthday dinner and stories galore, I pass out on my big (and crowded) bed exhausted after partying like a blog star.



And please don't forget to check out all of the links on my sidebar to these wonderful sites!

Day 2 of Disney

Saturday

6:42 a.m.

It's early, but I get in that shower and panic for a moment that a baby monitor isn’t on. Then I remember that I don’t have one this weekend.

We eat a light breakfast in a private meeting room at the hotel. Another Disney cast member has joined us to answer any questions we may have and share some insider tips.

Does anyone have any questions?

This is like asking a room full Kindergartners if they need more glue. Or members of an AA meeting if they need more coffee. Or a group of Mommy bloggers if they have any questions.

We’ve got lots.

Again, I start to doubt the purpose of my presence here because the group is asking really intelligent and insightful questions about healthy dining options, food allergies and recycling programs. I just want to know why Mickey wears pants, and Donald doesn’t. (Thanks to my esteemed reader TwithHoney for that submitted question.) So I hold back, but absorb the very interesting discussion.

9:00: We head on over to the Magic Kingdom for a little photo shoot (will I ever shake the paparazzi??) and some riding time. We do Space Mountain, the newly refurbished Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean with Kris and her baby, Charles, who has accompanied us on our trip. I think Charles thoroughly enjoyed his first trip to Disney World. He even got his first pair of mouse ears.



12:00: Back on the bus to head on over to Hollywood Studios (which used to be called MGM Studios until a month ago which thoroughly confused me for a day and a half) We have lunch at the Brown Derby and it is delicious. I didn’t think I would ever be able to eat again after Italy, but I make a good old college try at the Cobb Salad which is bigger than the Epcot Ball.

Then we get a sneak peak at a new ride, “Toy Story Mania.” It is still under construction, the press hasn’t even seen it yet, (I just scooped Matt Lauer!) but we get a tour of it and a whole description from the “Imagineers” who created it. It was so cool to walk through an active construction site of a Disney ride. I resist the urge to sign my name in the wet cement.

We round out the afternoon with Studio sights, and Kris and I think the margaritas look particularly festive.

5:45: Meeting in the lobby of the hotel in our fancy non-Mom clothes. We’re wearing skirts and open-toed shoes. And lipstick. There is not an elastic waistband to be found. We are gorgeous. I dare you to say we aren‘t. (We’ll only blog about you later.)

We walk outside to board the bus, but no. No bus. Instead, three white stretch limos wait with champagne being uncorked. We climb in as though we are used to traveling in such a fashion, and no one even pretends to buckle their seat belts. (We are seriously getting used to this whole non-Mom thing.)



The limos take us over to the California Grill at the Contemporary Resort. We enter a side door of the restaurant only to find that we are not dining amongst others, but rather a full 6 course meal in a private room on the roof of the hotel over looking Cinderella’s castle. There is an open bar. There is sushi. There is the executive chef from Epcot sitting at my table. There is no menu.



Instead, plate after plate after plate comes out with some of the most delicious food I’ve eaten. The courses are beautiful and I almost hate to deconstruct the lovely presentations, but I get over it and plow through each dish and stop short of dropping my face right into the molten chocolate cake. Not out of ettiquette, but because I'm afraid I'll burn my nose.

We step out onto the balcony and look out over all of Disney World. Kris asks why I know so much about Disney, and that is when I have to sheepishly admit that when we called last for our reservations, they said that was our 67th time.

67.

“67?? How is that even possible?” Maria Bailey asks as she laughs so hard I think she might tumble down and impale herself on one of the spires on the castle.

I don’t admit that that was only on-property stays.

8:45: Back in the limos for our ride to Cirque du Soleil--La Nouba. We kill the remainder of the champagne.

This show is amazing. And intense. After, we get treated to meeting two of the talented performers, and again I know I am way out of my league. Example question from my way more art appreciative friends: I am sensing some powerful themes throughout the show, what does it mean to you?

Example of a Suburban Diva question: Given the whole Mickey/Donald pants issue, would the same fashion rules apply to tutus?

So as not to embarrass the group and myself, I again keep this to myself.

11:44: Back at the hotel I passed out exhausted on my big bed after partying like a blog star.

Friday from Disney

Let me set the scene here before I go much farther…This weekend was coined the “Disney Mom Blogger Mixer,” and I was invited to go with 15 other Mom bloggers around the country. None of us knew each other before the trip, and this was a little daunting to me, but I really was prepared to just have a new experience and all that that would entail.

Friday:

3:15: I arrived at Disney’s Beach Club Resort after a 90 minute drive of listening to my own radio choices rather than the “Underdog” screenplay which is my usual fare. The room is beautiful, and it is difficult to believe the whole thing is mine. I did a sheet angel on the king size bed and didn’t hit a kid or a dog when I did it. My family sent me flowers in honor of Matty’s birthday tomorrow and they were a sweet touch to the room.

The itinerary is absolutely amazing. The first thing was a Welcome Reception at 4:15. I quickly rushed down to the pool to meet my new friend Kris from Cleverparents.com before the reception. She’s a trip. A trip into downtown Crazy. But that’s okay since I am the Mayor of Crazyville; it’s nice to hang with a constituent.

4:30: We all gather at a Welcome Reception in an outdoor gazebo overlooking the beautiful pool at the Beach Club. It has a lazy river and a sandy bottom. We are greeted by our Disney hosts, Joyce, Leanne and Michelle; and they couldn’t be more gracious. And there is this beautiful buffet laid out--it includes buffalo and duck. And Sangria. Lovely. Sangria. Did I mention Sangria?



The women here are truly amazing. And very diverse. There are bloggers, product reviewers, web designers, writers, parenting site editors, and me. I am beginning to seriously wonder what I’m doing here amongst all of this talent. Kris organizes baby showers for military wives. Lori is home schooling. Gabrielle is running multiple sites with 5 children. Mary Beth has 6 kids and has written a book and has another out in January.

My column this morning was about writing off Jack Daniels as a deduction on my taxes.

6:00: We headed over to Italy for dinner. (Italy was just in nearby Epcot, but I just like saying that.) There is a 17 hour wait, but we get escorted right inside and occupy 3 large tables in the middle of the restaurant. I sit next to Leanne from Disney and Darcie who was part of the Moms panel at DisneyWorldMoms.com. Others at my table included Marybeth, Elizabeth, Kim, Michelle and Jo-Lynne.



We eat like kings. Or queens. Italian queens. There is food and wine and attentive waiters with accents. We are talking non-stop. Imagine a group of women. A group of mothers traveling for a weekend of fun without kids. A group of child-less mothers who also blog. We never shut up. EVER.

And we take pictures. Lots of pictures. I felt as though I wasn’t personally doing my share since cameras were flashing like paparazzi bulbs, and the braised pork shank was Lindsay Lohan.



8:30: After the fabulous meal and 3 desserts, we are escorted to more desserts. I see no problem here.

There are attendants with air traffic controller flares leading us through the crowds that have already started to line up to watch the fireworks. People are staring trying to figure out why we are so important. I want to answer their curious stares with, “We’re bloggers. Mommy bloggers.” And then watch them all scramble to eat their vegetables and write HTML code.



9:00: We are seated in our own private area with our desserts and coffee and benches right on the water to watch Illuminations. Totally fun. I become that tourist which I abhor--and watch the entire show through the viewfinder of the HandyCam because I feel as though I should work a little.

After, we break up and try to squeeze in a few rides during the extra park hours.

11:05: Back in my room, next to my flowers sits a fun gift bag of Disney goodies. At least I think they’re fun, because I pass out on my big bed exhausted from partying like a blog star.

Diva, you have just logged your 560th post...what are you going to do now? I'm going to Disney World!

In less than 24 hours I will be leaving for 48 hours.

I have packed 3 bags. I have arranged for 15 hours of babysitting and 7 favors. I have ordered 2 birthday cakes and painted 10 toes. I have made 3 deadlines, and hope to log in 1 more. I have shopped and laundered and shopped.

And as Rafiki says, (Disney character) "It is time."

I am really excited about this. I feel uber guilt for leaving the family this weekend--especially with a birthday and hockey--but I am looking forward to a weekend of being treated because of something I love to do and is a little goofy (another Disney character).

We don't know the itinerary, but I kind of like the surprise aspect of it. I hope there is time to roller coaster. Or lay by the pool. Or learn something new. Or meet some cool women.

Or whatever.

The whole thing has a summer camp feel to it, which is so unlike me truthfully, but at least we're not bunking together or sharing bathrooms.

So I will blog about blogging Disney style on Monday. See you then!

Want some Funyons with yer Dew?

Sometimes I think I was a dirtbag in a former life.

I have these dirtbag tendencies that creep through the diva facade every once in a while. Usually, Sean is the only witness and he generously points them out. Like when I drink Mountain Dew. Or when I wear my Cheap Trick hoodie. I spent $400 on this hoodie at the school auction, but it looks as though I found it in Peter Cetera's rummage sale because it is black and usually covered in white Jingle hair.

So today, I was not wearing said hoodie, but a black T-shirt when I went to the post office to mail in our taxes at the last minute which is my personal protest if we owe. (Which we did and I'm still pissed about it.) Anyway, so I am standing in this excruciating long line with other civil disobedients when the old man behind me says, "Someone has a kitty."

What? I didn't know who he was talking to so I ignored him.

"I'm sorry, but this is driving me crazy, can I just brush your back?"

So I turn around as he starts to brush the dog hair from my back. In line. At the post office. In front of 27 other procrastinators.

I don't even know what to say to this.

Except that now there are 28 more witnesses to my dirtbagdom.

Mixing it up at the Mixer

Okay, we're only days away from out Disney event. Come Friday, I'm off to introduce Disney to the mom blogosphere. Or at least my little corner of it.

We have no idea what we'll be doing, but it's been hinted that the itinerary is absolutely amazing. I'm gettin' a lil excited about it. There are 20 of us I think, and its a Mom-only gig, so it'll be different. Not sure what it will be like not to push a stroller down Main Street.

Anyway, we also get a chance to ask the folks at Disney questions. So readers, what are you just dying to know? You know I'll write all about it when I get home, but is there anything you want me to ask while they lend me an ear, or 2 in the shape of a mouse?

Comment here or divamail me at divamail@suburbandiva.com.

Oh what fun, Jessie is one

Woo hoo!! Jessica is one and we got a raise! Read about that here....

But we spent our first week's formula savings on this party last night. The theme was pink. It was awesome.



Jessica appreciated it.



As did her siblings



Birthday dress



And me and my girl (fierce do)



All I want for my birthday is my two bottom teeth. (Good thing)

Crawling back into my hole now

Need..break...from..media...

I'm not complaining, but really, too much PR this week. I need a little respite from the media. I'm not sure I like much more of a spotlight than the glow of my computer screen.

So, I think the last mediums left are radio and skywriting, so perhaps that will give me a goal for next week....

Anyhoo, the bigger news is that Jessie girl turns one tomorrow. 1!! We've got pink cake, pink decorations, pink balloons and anything else Amy can find fitting our monochromatic theme.

After the week I've had in the limelight, a swaddling in baby pink sounds really, really wonderful.

Pictures tomorrow.

quick, find my hairspray

News crew here in 10 minutes--wow.

Report later.

Ah, message boards

Okay, now I'm just amused.

The comments thing has just taken on a twisted life its own--one that I have lost track as to why it even got started. But somehow the situation has deteriorated into me becoming the poster child for ovaries. Which is even funnier since the closest I have ever come to speaking on anything remotely femininely intimate is a diatribe on shoes.

So hopefully all of the baby-haters will slink back into their mother's basements and get distracted by sweet YouTube videos and the the latest issue of the Auto Trader and leave me--and my ovaries--alone.

Deliciously Snarky

That was the headline, "Deliciously snarky Suburban Diva Blogs on in Safety Harbor."

Oh, you have no idea.

Because as I was feeling pretty giddy about my little article this weekend, it seems some idiot(s) weren't so generous, and then felt the need to comment online. And I realize there are some people out there who just suck.

Now, my friends--and if you are reading this blog than you must be that, right?--you don't have to like me. You don't have to think I'm funny or clever or even a mediocre writer. You don't have to appreciate the happenstance career hobby that comes last on my list of things to do in a day, but that somehow has developed into something special for me nonetheless. You don't have to get me or it. You are entitled to that opinion.

You can choose not to buy my book. You can choose not to read my column. You can ignore my blog.

But there is one thing you can't do.

You can't comment on my family. You can't comment on the size of it, or whether you think I am entitled to another or have too many. You cannot comment either way on my fertility. It is absolutely none of your business, and don't think for 1 minute that 300 words in a newspaper gives you any glimpse into who I am. What I value. WHOM I value.

Because I do not value anyone who says, "heard of birth control?"

I value those beings generated from this "baby maker machine" and the only reason I am commenting on this here is because I find the comments so unbelievably insulting, that I don't even understand them. Seriously. I didn't ask anyone to pay for their groceries. I didn't ask anyone to babysit them. I didn't ask you to donate to my diaper fund. (I take PayPal) My husband and I have been blessed with 4 beautiful, amazing, healthy children that I thank God for everyday.

I thank God for them, and refuse to apologize to anyone else. How dare you imply that I somehow did something wrong.

That's why I'm so bothered by that. And I know the only apropos response is no response and a huge, "whatever."

So today I'm snarky, but tomorrow I'll be delicious again. Fergilicious even.

It's getting better

*kicking imaginary sand with hands jammed in pockets sheepishly*

Okay, well...I'm having a better day now.

BECAUSE OF THIS!

How fun is that?? I want to hang out with that cool chick whoever she is.

Bad Day

I am having such a bad day!!!

AArggghh!! I just want to pull out my hair and go back to bed and put an end to this crappy, crappy day.

Matty is throwing up. I think I've lost the second workbook for his First Communion due in a week. I'm trying to bleach everything down, and Amy is insistent about making the oddest messes today. I'm feeling off, and sad, and basically down about myself in general and I don't know if this pit in my stomach is the flu or psychological. Everyone is snapping at each other and it's going to rain.

And I'm obviously whiny.

SD in the News

I'm about to throw up, but this time it has little to do with the flu and more to do with anticipation.

I got word today that the Suburban Diva update is going to run in Sunday's paper. Sunday. Yikes. (I am only linking to it if it is wonderful and they photoshop my picture from a year ago when I was 7 months pregnant and make me a size 4. And fix my hair.)

I'm going to try not to think about that incessantly for the next few days. Instead, I'm going to work on the 12 different open documents on my screen, a column, and that little novel I've been ignoring. Our writer's group met last night and I got some great feedback that I want to incorporate and keep moving forward.

And oh yeah, those adorable children of mine. Jessica is turning 1 in a week. How crazy is that?????

Another reason to throw up.

Happy Birthday, Mom

If you get the Internet in heaven, I hope you read my blog. I hope you get silly eCards with jumping rabbits and bad jokes. I hope you get birthday cake and a hat. I hope you get coupons to your favorite restaurant or that God makes you beef Wellington because it's your favorite.

I hope you hear me singing even though I am out of tune.

But I hope you don't know how much I miss you because that would make you feel bad, and I don't want that for your birthday.

SD is a TM

It is official. I am officially a Trademarked entity.

That means I own Suburban Diva. A notice came in the mail notifying me that I finally own that little piece of intellectual property. So stand back imposters, you can all start thinking of new names. This one belongs to me.

*****

We are back from the cold north. Brrrrr!! I have forgotten just how cold it is north of Orlando. But we had a great time, and the wedding was beautiful, and we survived the plane, double stroller and all. The pukefest continued up there--the whole family is quickly succumbing to the barfbug. But other than that, a good trip for all.

Taurus: You basically suck

So I'm running like my typical crazy self today--packing, cleaning, feeding, getting a column up, making my third trip to the pediatrician's office of the week...when my daily horoscope arrives in my inbox.

Dear Tracey,
Here is your horoscope
for Thursday, March 27:

Play it safe -- avoid risks of any kind. It's not that you're in danger, but taking chances is a sure way to attract the wrong kind of attention from the universe. Things should be more relaxed in a few days.

Um. Yeah, I'm about to get a plane with 4 kids--all of whom have had some sort of ailment recently, and I am nervous enough on a good day, and this is my freaking horoscope??? You have got to be kidding me.

Bon voyage

I am racing. Racing to get us packed for a little excursion northward for a family wedding.

This is proving to be difficult.

It is the first time all 6 of us are going to fly. 6. That's the snack Nazi Dad, 2 bored boys, Amy, a teething baby and the biggest basket case of all--me. I HATE TO FLY. I HATE TO FLY WITH KIDS EVEN MORE. The thought of collapsing the double satroller through security absolutely exhausts me even right now. I know I'm going to burst into tears when they tell me I can't have diaper rash cream and Similac on the plane. Seriously. If I had time, I would drive 24 hours rather than go to an airport.

So I am trying to pack for 6 with coats, wedding clothes and baby gear. I think I've narrowed it down to 23 bags for 4 days.

We'll wear our underwear inside out.

Easter 2008

They all lay exhausted on the couch with jelly beans stuck in their hair.

But I don't care, we had a nice Easter weekend. We sort of took it in two days since Sean had to work so much. So yesterday we had out brunch with the Easter Bunny and egg hunt. Gotta tell you- a bit disappointed with this event. It cost a fortune for a plate full of runny scrambled eggs and a cheesy Easter mascot than the Big Bunny himself.


But no matter, we went on a putting green and fought little children for piles of plastic eggs nonetheless.



We found lots of choking hazards in those eggs.



But that's half the fun. Here's my baby and my baby.




And my Amy


And Matty, Amy and Jess


They make me laugh. Happy Easter, all.

Good Friday Wrap Up

How fun is that? Um, big fun. Especially if I get Fast Passes to Aerosmith's Rockin' Roller Coaster and another rockin' mom to ride it with me...

Okay, so I'm coming around here slowly. Have to. Woke up in a mild panic realizing it was Good Friday and I had yet to dye a single egg or buy a jelly bean. So the Tasha comes through, and I get out for a couple of hours to stock up on Bunny supplies. We will spend the rest of the afternoon boiling eggs and boiling sheets to rid ourselves of this bug once and for all. We all seem to be better, but Jessica just can't stop spewing. Poor little thing.

A minor conquest has left a nice spring in my step for this start of spring. I've been working on Trademarking "Suburban Diva" for about 200 years. It has been an application plagued with a thousand different problems, bureaucratic red tape, and applicant's stupidity. (moi). After three and a half years, several hundred dollars later, and more stupidity, I finally got smart and called the TM office. Instead of an automated help line or a paralegal, the actual attorney working my case picks up the phone. I immediately apologize. He assures me it's okay, and I say I just want to find out what I need to do next to get my application to the next point, and he says, "Is this Suburban Diva?"

Yes!!

I apologize again because now I know he's the poor attorney whose had to look at my name and idiocy for a majority of his career. I explain quickly that I'm clueless(like he didn't already know that) and if he could just tell me in plain divaspeak what I need to next, I will do it and send him a fruit basket for his trouble.

"I've been meaning to call you, I just need to clear up one thing.."

A few more minutes of me just explaining what I want, and he saying "Oh, well I can just amend that right now if you give me permission, and we can move forward immediately. I'll email it to you today."

I'm sorry, I didn't hear you correctly...you don't want to charge me a $1500 retainer and $450/hr to strike 4 words from my application? We can do this over the phone? I don't have to send another fee? I don't need to figure out which form of a 830 page document in which to file, then wait 6 months to hear I've done it wrong then start all over again? Really? Really! REALLY!!

So, after a 7 minute phone call, I am almost a Trademarked entity. And soon all of the fake Suburban Diva's are going to get cease and desist emails.

Wooo Hoooo!!! And thank you Mr. Trademark Attorney! You rock out loud!

Pukefest

Oh. My. God. I have never been so sick in all of my life. EVER.

I wished for death for 12 straight hours as I threw up and up and up.

And you know how misery loves company? Well, good thing, because this was after Amy was sick for 2 days, Matty started barfing along side of me, the Intern is here puking, and the Intern's friend got it, too. Sean was a few hours behind us all, but did manage to join in Pukapalooza '08. Jessie is still sick.

There are saints that walk among us. There are angels on Earth. And then there are Tasha's who outshine them all.

Tasha is our babysitter, but more than that because she pretty much takes care of our family whenever we need her and under whatever crazy circumstances they may be. So I called my Tasha and said, "the entire household +2 guests are throwing up uncontrollably. We need you to drop everything and spend the next 12 hours in this Petri dish taking care of Jessie and then running to the store for Jell-o."

And do you know what, she did.

She saved my life, I tell you, as I literally could not lift my head from the bathroom floor. I love her.

Today, we're all better, but on the slowest pace above sleeping imaginable. I am washing everything in the house and bleaching doorknobs. But I am upright.

Next post I'll tell you about the ER on the eve of Pukapalooza and yet another broken bone on Stevie.

How many times can I wash towels and her blanket?

The only aspect about the 24 hour stomach flu is that it only lasts 24 hours. So, why pray tell, did Amy just spew on hour 37?

This is how the Intern and friend are spending their spring break. I hoped they met some hotties when I sent them up to Walgreen's for Pedialyte. Smelling all citrusy from the hand sanitizer the crazy old aunt keeps pumping into their palms...

It's kind of gross around here.

Laughs for the whole family

I wrote a column today about my multiple personalities looking curiously like the cast of The Love Boat. I thought it was funny...

But here's a cute show on multiple personalities--guys like Mr. Happy, Mr. Persnickety, and Mr. Scatterbrain. I'm currently applying for the Miss Diva character that tells bad jokes but wears nice shoes.



It's on Cartoon Network and it's called "The Mr. Men Show." Check it out for a cute laugh with the kiddos.

(Oh yeah, and we've got a contest going on Suburbandiva.com. Sign up at Newbaby.com, and get a free HP Photo Book!)

Ode to my blog

What a fatabulous day--all thanks to blogging.

And how often will I say that particular sentence in my lifetime?

So, first big news. Guess who is going to Disney World? I'll give you hint: she's recently brunette, frazzled, and insane...

Good guess! It's me! I know, I know, why is this different than every weekend of my Florida life? Because of blogging, and columning, that's why.

Yep, the folks at WDW have invited moi to their house for a weekend of Mouse blogging I s'pose. Not really sure exactly, but heck, I'm game!

And then, just when you thought that would be the biggest blog windfall of the month, that beautiful, intelligent, and insightful reporter from The St. Pete Times calls and says, "We need more Diva!" (Actually, she probably said we're having trouble filling space on the bottom of the garage sale page and thought of you.) So, if the editor is sleeping on the day she passes him my story, I am soon to be mentioned there again!

Can I hear a blog wOOt?

Lights, camera and diva action

These filming days suck every ounce of wit and patience from every fiber of my body.
It is cool to do, but I swear, I can only do it once every six months because it takes that long to summon the energy needed. I need a nap and a drink.

But since I will get neither tonight, I will settle for takeout and a book.

More tomorrow after I have recupurated and scrubbed off my make-up.

Change o' plans

Of course there is. Because it's me.

Same offer, my house on Monday.

Who is in?

Correction

Perhaps I wasn't clear yesterday on my blog entry.

Unbeknownst to me, it was hijacked and posted on some professional actor's site, and suddenly my divamail is being filled with headshots of women with their previous acting experience and measurements.

I feel like I'm ordering a Russian bride or something.

I feel bad about this for two reasons. One, because these ladies actually think that I have a job to give them--which I don't--and two, that I have to audition people, and apparently pay union wages, to be my friends.

Sniff.

My friends...

Okay, lurkers. I don't know who reads this. Unless you say, "I read on your blog that..." or you leave a comment, I don't know who is out there. But I am assuming that if you read this on any regular basis then you are a) my friend, or b) building a case file for DCF.

If you are a)... then read on. If b), I'm taking my children to the museum and then to harvest organic granola.

a) folks: I am going down state to do some filming for that website that I work for on Thursday, and I'm looking for another Mom who would be interested in going with me and appearing on camera, too. Just a little to do some short promos, casual, yet witty spots. I'm not looking for any professional actresses, (because I am certainly NOT) just someone who could have a little light fun talking about motherhood in general.

If I've already asked you to watch my children for the day, then you'll have to wait to do the Tampa filming in the next couple of weeks. Sorry.

But if you'd like some Diva fun for the day, then email me at Divamail@Suburbandiva.com right but quick, and I promise a fun time.

I'll buy lunch.

Leap Year

Some weeks just start out shaky, but instead of it knocking you off your bike, it rattles something loose and a little creative dust falls out. So that's what I've been doing this week, playing in the dirt.

The only other highlight of the week was when I bought the girls' Easter dresses today. There is something just sugary sweet about Easter dresses. (Especially when they are on sale.)

And now, I spend the next 7 hours putting on, taking off, carrying, stowing, fighting with hockey equipment.

Happy Leap Year.

Come Monday

Okay, so I'm back at it today at more worthwhile prose after spending days composing my soapbox speeches in my head that no one listens to, including me after a while.

So, no matter. I have all of my talismans lined up to ward off sickness for me or the kids. Sean's been sick for the last 5 days, and we can ill afford to pay the nurse what she's worth. (me.)

I've been doing a lot of reading lately as you can see from my sidebar. I've decided to take a couple of days off from that because it tends to consume my words, and the last one I read was such a disappointment, that I'm punishing someone somewhere for my lost investment.

I know that makes no sense, but you'll have to let me have this or else I'm going to start on those soapbox soliloquies again.

Names

I've been writing all afternoon on Le Novel and to save time and energy when I'm on a roll, I'm naming all of the secondary and relatively insignificant characters after the people that send me replica watch spam today.

Hello Mr. Travis Quinn, elementary school principal and purveyor of high quality Tag timepieces.

Makeover

Okay, I did it. I've been threatening for months, but last night I finally went brunette.

I've had this Bengal Tiger thing going on for about 10 years I figure--alternating every so often more Bengal and then more tiger--but last night I told Erica to go dark. And she did.

And let me tell you, it's fierce.

I wasn't loving the chocolate brown last night so much when it was half blown dry and then treadmill worked after an evening session at the gym, but today after a little straightener, I'm feeling spicy. Chestnutty. It feels creamy, of all things.

I'm not sure if I should take a picture or reduce it down into a sauce served over Tournedos.

"It's a no from me, Paula?"

I'm on hold with Delta. Because I can't do this transaction online when you have 3 kids, 1 lap child, eCredits, eTickets and SkyMiles to credit and so forth. Whatever.

But the bizarre part of this phone call is not that it is taking 47 minutes and counting, but that the hold music is crazy. There are all of these popular songs being sung by untalented singers. Seriously. "White Flag," is not being crooned by Dido. And that is not Norah Jones nor James Taylor. Perhaps that's Annie Leonard singing, "Broken Glass." It's like listening to American Idol auditions. Simon might just come back on the line by saying, "That was really terrible, but your confirmation number is 2000998876."

What up with dat, dawg?

Crepes. Again.

Yay! It's Friday!

Yay, it's Friday and there's no hockey practice tonight!

Yay it's Friday and there's no hockey practice or games at all this weekend!

I don't know how all of that happened or why, but I am grateful. This is the first and last weekend in a long time that the only things on the agenda are cleaning my closet and working on the novel. Because those two things need to be done!

I've been working on the latter today, and although I've made some progress, I'm also reconsidering even more as far as the story goes. Ugh. After all of this pre-editing, I'll probably burst into tears if a real editor ever looks at this thing and makes a suggestion. Oh well.

So we're off tonight to go eat more crepes. We've had them like 37 times since we tried that new little restaurant. I even made them last night for our Valentine's dinner. I am such a nerd.

What are the odds?

There are 2 boys in art class with the name, "Enzo."

I kid you not.

Two.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm not really big on this holiday, but an excuse for candy is good enough for me. I wrote a column about it, too.

In addition to that nonsense, I've been plugging away at the new keyboard. Finding my way through my assignments as well as a few pages on le novel. Fun stuff, really, so I am grateful for that. I've found at this stage, there is a lot of experimenting and backtracking. I've already killed off someone. Weird...I've got one last assignment to get through today, and then I can devote my time to art class with Amy and a fabulous dinner preparation with the boys. Throw in a couple of chocolate-covered cherries and it'll be a pretty good way to spend a Thursday.

So Happy Valentine's Day and all of that.

New keyboard

Okay, so I've just spent the better part of my week settling into a new computer. What a pain in my hard drive.

I needed one because I'd run out of room on the old one, and needed to update my world. So I got this new system which has taken a while to get used to. I don't know where everything is here. My rhythm is all messed up. I don't know where all my stuff is. There are tabs and symbols that I am clueless as to their meaning. I feel like a guest user on my own account.

This is not boding well for my balance issues.

Om

Well, I woke up this morning tired as usual, but somehow a little lighter. And even after a day of computer hell, I did not shove a hard drive down a Geek Squad geek's throat, I merely exchanged computers again, and made my 15th trip to Best Buy this week with grit teeth and a bit lip.

It's the new Zen me.

Anyway, hopefully my next post I will be writing from my new digs. Stranger things have happened. Not many, but I wrote 1 1/2 pages today and Mitt Romney dropped out of the race, so I suppose miracles can happen.

Lent

Lent.

Admittedly, I have a tough time with this one.

I long ago gave up the giving up thing. To give up something for 40 days only to binge on it the rest of the year seems counterproductive to me. So I began to take on something positive instead, hoping that Easter morning I would find it ingrained into my personality.

And while that is better for the half-full glass kind of gal I am, somehow this year I need more.

I think I mentioned last week that I've been feeling outta sorts. Well, that feeling didn't go away after a day. Or a mud mask. Or a party. Or 4. I found myself beginning the week further behind than if it was a Friday afternoon at 5:00 already. (It did not help that I've been driving from Tampa to St. Pete at various doctors for Stevie's broken finger and Amy's latest ear issue.)

So last night after laying there for a while exhausted but unable to sleep, I had a spiritual tantrum. It occurred to me that my sorts is my balance, and I am definitely off that by a long way.

So today, the first day of Lent, I've decided that balance is my focus for the next 40 days and beyond. But then I took it farther.

The other thing I hate about Lent (that must be sacrilidge) is that success is measured after a month and a half of sacrifice, and we all know that I am way too impatient for such a distant marker, so I decided that my success should be marked daily. Heck, even hourly. I will celebrate each day as if it were that rebirth of Easter as I march boldly to it.

Sounds uncharacteristically existential, doesn't it?

But it's not. When I came to this stunning realization, I can't tell you how spiritually full I felt. Even fasting, I was more satiated than I've been in quite some time.

Practically speaking, I am putting things back into perspective. After a doctor's appointment for Stevie today, the little ones were being attended to by the fabulous Tasha, I decided to take my son to a late lunch. We went to a new little restaurant in downtown Safety Harbor, which was as unique as the rest of my town. My friend Susan called Safety Harbor, "Mayberry on LSD," it is such a perfect description. Anyway, I sat on a veranda with my boy eating crepes on someone's back porch. We were the only ones there, and we ate every bite, and then we ordered dessert. We talked about 12 year old boy stuff. And crepes. And I cut his crepes becasue he couldn't with his big cast on, and we lingered. It was so....righted.

I am not going to write a column this week because I won't force one. I will work on my novel instead.

I cleaned out my room and workspace. And the toybox. Not because it all needed it, but because I just felt like the clutter wasn't going to set me off balance anymore, either.

And somehow, tonight on Ash Wednesday, usually a tough one for me, felt pretty glorious.

And I think I might have even walked a little more toward the center.

18-1

It was a great weekend--how 'bout dem Giants?--but this cat is worn out. I think the entire family is coming down with various sicklies, too. I hope not though, because that would just suck.

After weeks of marathon partying, methinks it's time for a week of buckling down...

Brilliant blush

I can't believe it, but I am painting my nails right now. I haven't painted my nails in years.

Granted it's clear polish, but the unprecented act of didget femininity should count nonetheless.

Weekend o' fun

Okay, I'm trying to rally for a big weekend of marathon and extreme partying.

But I'm just so freakin' tired...

In between 4 hockey practices and games, we've got the big school auction on Saturday night. That means dressing up in grown-up clothes while wielding the checkbook and tying Sean's hands to the chair to prevent him from bidding on the stuff we donated. But I will gladly pay for the honor of hanging out with my friends for an evening. It's been ages.

And then Sunday is, of course, the Super Bowl. Sean is thrilled, the boys are pumped, and the girls will have fun not caring. Eating, drinking, gambling and sports all to excess. What could be better?

I will worry about the caloric ramifications of the celebratory weekend on Monday when I haul myself back on the treadmill. Until then, GO GIANTS!

outta sorts

Do you ever feel just a little out of sorts? Like nothing is terribly wrong or right, but you're walking down the center on a wobbly tightrope and could fall off on either side? And while you are not broken, you do feel like in a stiff wind, pieces of you would fly off in opposite directions while you ran around collecting yourself under cars and in the bushes?

Yeah, me too today.

I think the only cure for the out of sorts--or the mad reds as Holly Golightly would say--is a mud mask and a good book in your p.j.'s.

So I think that's what I'll do.

All Star Weekend

OMG, we're home. We were only gone for 4 days to Atlanta, but I feel like it was a year abroad.

Maybe because in addition to being a boatload of fun at the NHL All-Star weekend, there was just enough brushes with weirdness to create the perfect blog entry.

Allow me to list those.

1.) After the big party Saturday night in which the Intern was kind enough to kid-sit so we could enjoy, we ended up in the lobby bar with a bunch of Sean's co-workers. And about 15 unmasked mascots. What a weird bunch of folks those cats are. So then the next day at the game, all of these crazy animals on LSD kept coming to our seats messing with kids as mascots do, but then giving us the weird non-talking but let's share this private joke look from their screened eyes. Frankly, it kind of gave me the heebie-jeebies.

2.) Matty is funny in a city. While most people look down or straight ahead when some cult member stands outside a sporting event bullying us toward salvation with a handmade sign, Matty stares them down. It's incredible. So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see him trash talking all of the fans in Western Conference jerseys on the way out. Straight-faced with hand extended, "Good game, man."

3.) We went to a pre-party at the Georgia Aquarium before the game on Sunday. It was great--the kids loved it, and I thought the food was fantastic. 2 bits of weirdness here: what does hockey have to do with fish and they didn't serve any at the banquet.

4.) At the game, I went to purchase a hot pretzel for Amy. Of course I didn't have cash on me--never do--so I politely asked if I could use a debit card. The man behind the counter asked if it was for "that pretty little girl, and if she could just tell him her name, he'd give her the pretzel at no charge." Well, yeah. Okay....He gave it to her anyway.

5.) Sean and I gave up fried foods. I don't think this will be a particular sacrifice for me since I gave up french fries long ago, and haven't eaten fried chicken since the early eighties after a bad KFC incident. Again, don't know what this has to do with hockey, but it is significant.

6.) We realized after getting jolted with each step in the hotel and Amy saying, "Ow," for no apparent reason every other word, that we don't have static electricity here in Tampa.

6.) We returned home late last night and had a slow time getting up this morning, luckily, it was wacky dress day, and mismatched socks were all that were clean anyway.

Well, that's a fairly accurate summary. I'm off to my Tuesday night date night with myself and Publix. I had to give Amy Spanish olives for lunch.

Here's Victoria's Secret--It's expensive!

Last night's Tuesday Date Night with Myself was more like a lesson in economics than a shopping spree. Only it must have been taught in pig Latin, because how else do you explain why I paid $16 for a pure cashmere sweater but $43 for a bra?

But at least I have collected the missing wardrobe pieces for our All-Star weekend. I must admit, I am a little psyched. I love this stuff. And to top it off, I found this nifty little black, lacy, baby-doll dress that is absolutely adorable to wear to the big party on Saturday that the Intern has most kindly agreed to watch my children so that I can go to a fancy party wearing a nifty little, black, lacy, baby-doll, dress.

And now off to the gym so that I can fit into said dress.

How Happy Am I That...

...today is a no school day?

...that the short week is even shorter because we get to go to the NHL All-Star game in Atlanta this weekend?

....that the Giants are going to the Super Bowl? (My husband has a little extra spring in his step today.)

...that Jessie only has a couple of days of antibiotics left?

...that I found my voice in Chapter 3 and I get time to work on it today?

...That it is just cool enough to make chili and roast chicken without it being ridiculous.

...Did I mention that it's a no school day?

16 Years Ago Today

I do believe the traditional gift for the sixteenth anniversary is hockey equipment. So that is what I am giving Sean tonight for our special day over cold concession stand pizza and a shooter of amoxicillian.

Enjoy, darling, and Happy Anniversary.

It's the little things that get me through

I mark this week with only small victories.

Like that I found a dress to wear to the auction. In a decent size. On sale. And when the saleswoman zipped me up which was no small task, she said, "Something must be in the way of the zipper." She didn't say that the obstruction was back fat. Bless her.

And the happiest email of the day was from Pottery Barn telling me the top of my new desk that has been back ordered for a month has been shipped...Yes, I've been using my new new desk without a top in a curious physical and lingual challenge.

I made all of my deadlines, however the time I set aside for novel writing didn't get used as such.

That I made a perfect Bearnaise sauce for our anniversary dinner.

And tomorrow is Friday and I made it with only 4 trips to the pediatrician's office.

So yippee! with a lower-case y.

Hockey, Puke and Football

So the boys started hockey on Friday...

I say that the boys started hockey, but what I really meant was that I started to cold and rapid descent into an expensive and bulky hell. Could we have found a sport with more equipment requirements? Seriously. Times 2.

I was almost in tears as I tried to lace up Matty's skates while holding the baby and rocking Amy in the stroller back and forth in 28 degree temperatures. And when I say stroller, I mean the double stroller which is my outward sign that I am miserable. But I couldn't even fit both girls in with all of the pads, socks, helmets, skates, cups and other various and sundry protective gear that they have to wear. So it was like pushing a Volkswagen with a hockey stick in your eye. So. Not. Fun.

But the boys enjoyed it, so again, macaroni art and frostbite because I love my kids.

But I will blame the rink for the sickness of the girls. It is only fair. Jessie has actually been sick for a week, but nothing bothers her so I didn't take her to the doctor until this morning when her nose fell off. But Amy started with a fever on Friday and deteriorated rapidly to 2 all-nighters and a puke session this morning. I knew she was pretty bad off when she actually gave me her blanket to wash. Usually I have to sneak it from her arms while she sleeps and even then she mourns its absence in her dreams.

So the doctor said that Amy is sick, but no infection--i.e. no relief--and Jessie has a double ear infection. Of course she does.

So we were lethargic this weekend. We watched football and putzed around and I wrote a little, but read more. I am reading, "Eat, Pray, Love," by Liz Gilbert, and I must tell you, it's amazing. I will finish it tonight but don't really want it to end. I highly recommend this one.

Okay, off to wash something.

Van Gogh Away from me

Yesterday, I took Amy to her first art class.

In her curriculum that I have made for her based on instinct and prayer, I feel this is what's next and best for her at this moment.

So we attended the first class yesterday, and it has all of the elements that make me feel so uncomfortable as a mother. Young perky moms with poorly behaved children eating paste and then making lame excuses like "Paste eating is actually an expression of giftedness." Other women who don't even know my name yet feel it their right to ask about my fertility. "So you have 4 kids? And 12 years between the first and last? What made you decide to do that?" And a new-age teacher who told me that she will not say that Amy's glue/glitter/cotton ball masterpiece "'beautiful,' because that is a judgement."

Omylord. Throw in some condemnation of bottle feeding and ask me to wear my swimsuit in public, and my maternal mortification is complete.

So just when I begin to go to that dark place in my mind to fantasize about telling them all that my kids have eaten a french fry before and I think Spongebob Squarepants is funny, Amy looks up from her work of sticky art and says, "Tank you, Ma."

Who needs some macaroni art on their refrigerator over the next 11 weeks?

Turn back time for a minute

Turn back the blog clocks to circa the end of November. Filter past posts of New Year's, Christmas, writing epiphanies and contests. Even before long, tortuous car ride, before turkey and pumpkin pie. It is November 19 in Tampa at the St. Pete Times Forum, and the Diva family is attending the Hannah Montana concert.

So my achy-breaky heart was breakin' because here I was at Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter's concert. Hello?? How old am I that I worked HIS show back in '89 when he was the hottest mullet-wearing guy in music? But now his kid has that title (sans mullet but blonde wig) so we took our kids to the hottest ticket in the world right now.

And can I just tell you how impressed I was?

Well, I will anyway. We went to the Meet and Greet before the show. Amazing opportunity. Everyone was so gracious and that 14 year old girl is about as poised and kind as could be. She signs autographs and poses for pictures before she goes out and performs a marathon of singing and dancing and about 117 costume changes before a sold out show. I don't think I've changed my outfit that many times in the last 6 months, let alone 1 1/2 hours...


But back to Miley Cyrus. My kids were pretty darn impressed, too.



And maybe I'm not that old...



But then again, maybe I am.



So there are 4 of the 78 pictures I took that night. So now I am going to arrange them all in this MyConcert Memory Book so they can have photographic proof that they were part of the hottest show ever. Ever.

(And you should check out this site, too. You can create your own book for your kids, and there are other activities that they can print out and have fun with, too.)

Chapter 1--Apples

In the midst of all this life going on, I managed to complete Chapter One of Novel Incomplete.

*dramatically wipes brow*

I'm not saying it is perfect or won't go through many complete overhauls in its lifetime, but I feel like I've polished a slightly bruised apple and asked for you to eat around the over ripe parts until I can properly cut them out and make a pie.

I feel like the first chapter is the hardest because besides the idea, plot, characters, dialogue and a million details that you never stopped to consider, tone is so vitally important to establish immediately. Both for the reader and the writer. And since I only have one of those at the moment, it was really gratifying to pen those initial pages.

I hope Chapter 2 is as inspiring, and thinking that it really could be.

A few of my favorite Christmas gifts in photos

The first was an early gift from Santa himself who brought us a load of the white stuff in our Florida yard. It was only about 80 degrees that December day. (It always brings out the neighbor kids, too.)



And how could I not give the obvious caption to this precursor picture, "All I want for Christmas is my..."



Seeing Amy dressed in her Christmas dress including tights and shoes! was a huge gift as well. Although for her, not so much.




Although I didn't get any clothes this year, my children got some adorable outfits, and I love that. Here's big Jessie in this little Land's End number. Not pictured is her cute backside with ruffled tights. Again, the pink suede shoes that were actually worn by a child of mine--huge bonus.

Baby it's cold outside

It feels like we've been gone a month, but it was really only a couple of days. But maybe because we passed through another New Year, the temperature dropped 30 degrees in one day and all of the Christmas decorations came down in about 2.6 minutes, is why it feels so much longer.

But it was a great few days, my friends. As a documented New Year's Eve hater, this one was near perfect. We were together with good friends in a beautiful (and HUGE!) hotel suite, playing board games, eating great food with the kids while watching the numerous fireworks displays from our balcony. Perfect.

The rest of our stay was cold, but tons 'o teeth-chattering fun. My kids do not appreciate cold weather. They must wear much more clothing they are not used to, includingshoes, a particularly despised accessory. But ehy had fun, and I even got treated to a spa evening, and really, what better way to dance into 2008 with pedicured toes?

And now that the worst job of the entire season is over--even beating out a trip to the post office or Fresh Market on Christmas Eve--the undecking of the halls; we can enjoy these last few days of freedom and depressurizing the cabin before new routines begin on Monday. I am uncharacteristically excited and inspired.

You?

Create in 2008

In a few short hours, we will be headed to our New Year's party destination which is an Orlando hotel with room service, board games and a pool. No driving, cleaning or cooking; but plenty of reading, writing and playing. I can think of no better way to ring in 2008...

A year that I am looking forward to.

I have a good feeling about this one. I am excited about more than a few opportunities in the coming weeks, as well as those I make myself. Surrounded by a supportive family and wonderful friends, I am kind of excited for potential change or amazing sameness.

So I hope you all have a safe and happy New Year tonight, and I'll see you in 2008!

I am typing this from my new desk, does it look more organized?

I actually started my New Year's Resolutions in November to avoid the holiday rush.

In that spirit, this should be relatively easy to keep the cookies out of my mouth, and my thighs on the treadmill. I should have no problem becoming an anal organized writer/mother in the next few days.

Ha! However, I have just finished emptying the contents from my card table/cardboard box makeshift desk, into my brand-spanking new Pottery Barn Bedford mahogany desk with hutch. It is such a dramatic change from my former chaotic work conditions, I felt the inspiration to write nearly two pages of novel this afternoon. I am hoping to keep up this pace and then some so as to complete said project by my birthday.

There. I said it out loud.

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And in contest news, I am giving away that last HP Photsmart Compact Photo printer in a drawing. So, If your New Year's Resolution list includes printing more of your digital photos, email me at Divamail@SuburbanDiva.com to be entered into a drawing to win.

But now, I am off to a football viewing party. On my way, I will be stopping by the office supply store for paper clips and pens to load up my new drawers with desk-like things.

12/26/07

I kinda like December 26th...at least this one.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were wonderful. Beautiful days of joy, family and friends. Always a whirlwind of peppermint activity, but at the same time a pleasant quiet of soul.

So today was spent testing out new presents, clearing paths and installing batteries, but tonight I find myself with a singular hour of peace in which ice cream is being prepared in the new electric maker, a rack of lamb is roasting away, and the baby sleeps soundly from happy exhaustion. I read a few chapters of a great book on the treadmill, played board games with my Dad, husband, and kids, and even cajoled a solid page of my novel from hiding.

Not bad for the 26th of December. Not bad at all.

Santa's coming tonight

Happy Christmas, Yoko.

Happy Christmas, John.

And Happy Christmas to all of you.

TGIF I guess

I am waiting on those pictures from last night's festivities, but she was wonderful as Baby Jesus. Albeit a little big.

I got that column out today, as well as posted a new contest:

And just in time for all of those Christmas parties over the weekend, next week's winner will be that person who sends me a picture of the ugliest Christmas sweater.

Email me at Divamail@Suburbandiva.com by December 27. And again, my house--and my person--are ineligible.


So feel free to enter and make me laugh at the same time.

I have my last remaining babysitter hours before CHristmas later this afternoon before a party. I have my last couple of errands and then a decision: work out or pedicure? Or should I say thighs or toes?

Dang. Thighs.

I'll wear closed-toed shoes but cuter pants. :)

Merry Christmas.

Jessica: Princess of Peace

The shipping department at Casa de la Diva is officially closed...I sent out the last card/present this morning.

I also gave Jessie a bath and laid her down for a long nap because in mere hours, she will be starring as Baby Jesus in the Christmas program.

We've been working on her lines all morning...

The 500th Non-Xmas Blog

In honor of the one week before Christmas mark and my 500th blog entry!, I have decided to spare us all any more "I'm busy with Christmas" postings because 1) I am, and 2) you are as well so you are probably not here to read any more about it. So, for the next week, you have my promise that we'll talk about something other than that. It is my gift to you.

So whattya wanna talk about? The only other thing of note besides the Thing That Shall Not be Named is a literary epiphany of sorts. That last little piece of inspiration/entire idea for a project I've been working on for, oh? my entire life.

Maybe 2008 is the year for it. I hope.

Unless you are an email confirmation on my recent order or a cashier at Toys R Us, I can't talk to you right now

Great parties this weekend, not so great cleanup today. Because this is crunch week, folks, and this is one gal who needs some serious crunch.

So don't expect much else than shopping, wrapping, shipping, cleaning, baking, cooking and more shopping this week from me. In dirty clothes and from unmade beds.

I'm too tired to title this

Dudes, this cat is beat.

I am sitting here writing a book review (due tomorrow of course) getting ready for a party I've been looking forward to, and coming off a huge week of Christmas prep while readying the house with food and drink for our annual holiday soiree on Sunday, and I am whipped. Last night's field trip to the ER sapped me hard. I really need to rally in the next few hours. There are nogs to egg and toes to mistle.

yuck

And what would our week be without a trip to the ER?

I can write about it now, but I was terrified for a bit last night, I tell you.

We were getting into bedtime gear, which in our house takes no less than 3 hours by the time everyone has eaten, bathed, homeworked, desserted, procrastinated, watched hockey or equivalent sporting event. So were in the middle of that exercise when Amy started choking on something. I couldn't figure out what, and did my best to extract whatever it was. Although nothing came up, she threw up and kept screaming, "mouth!" So I rushed her to the ER where they did an X-ray and couldn't find anything. They surmised it may have been soap or shampoo. I don't know.

She is okay now, but we are still shaking. These are the times that her speech difficulties are really a handicap.

More than just having me for a mother.

I wear my sunglasses at night

Sean added a few more pieces to the outdoor light display this on Saturday.

On Sunday, I suffered my first Grand mal seizure.

Have you entered yet?

We need some more entries on our weekly contest to win the HP Photosmart compact photo printer!

The question is: What is the oldest picture you have on your camera card right now?

Email me at Divamail@suburbandiva.com with the answer before midnight Monday for the big prize!

Friday

I'm a wee bit pleased with the yuletide progress o' the week. While I am not by any means done, many of my tougher recipients are taken care of, so that is a big relief. Wrote a column, organized the house, made it to the gym a few times and ordered the Christmas cards from Snapfish. (For that free shipping when you enter in "DIVAHOLIDAY") I might even get them out at a reasonable time this year...

And from the shipping department of Sub Diva, Inc, I have managed to send my first contest winner her prize, so that's good. You local winners should get some of your goodies this weekend. And to know what I'm talking about here, you have to sign up over at SuburbanDiva.com for free stuff.

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We got the tree last night, and the house smells wonderful. A gajillion pine needles everywhere, but it smells heavenly. Amy is particularly enamored with that tree. It is precious. There will not be a single unbroken ornament from her decorating efforts, but what are you going to do? It's Christmas.

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And finally, this is the only time of year when Jingle's name makes sense. Which ends up to be little consolation because having a 1 year old puppy eating ornaments, lights, toys, and my patience still makes no sense at all.

Clean the Halls with Boughs of Clorox

Before one can fully deck the halls, one must wash them. So, that's what I did today.

I cleaned those things that don't get my daily attention. Like the laundry room, for instance. I washed the washing machine in an ironic twist. The carpets got cleaned. I cleaned 1/2 of my closet. And then I went to the grocery store to stock back up on all of the crap I just threw away.

But all is not lost today. I got my column almost written and Amy is singing "the Snow Miser" song, and keeps repeating, "icicle," which is a beautiful sound in all of its 3-syllable glory.

We might have to take a Christmas light tour tonight to celebrate Wednesday...

Planning for tomorrow already

Even Jessie is having a weird hair day. She looks like Dr. Suess styled it this morning.

So if I don't get an appointment to cut my freakishly long hair tomorrow, I'm going to go to the fancy-schmancy Mall tomorrow on Diva Tuesday. Sean is traveling and there is no December meeting this month, so that means I can use this Tuesday to shop like the fool that I am.

Anyone wanna go? There is a Girl's Night Out planned for Wednesday I hear tell, but I can't afford babysitter time this month for mindless drinking--only mindless shopping.

I hate that.

We need a little Christmas

It is time...

It is December now, it is time to get this whole Christmas frenzy appropriately frenzied.

So yesterday I shopped my fingers off. Meaning anything that could be bought online, was. I memorized my Amex #, and 3 hours and 17 order confirmation emails later, I found myself at the 50% mark done. With every copuon, free shipping offer and diva discount I could find.

50%!

That is a huge number for me on December 2.

Now I'm waiting for Sean to return from Target with the rest of the decorations and the lights. Yeah, you know because we buy a full set of lights every year because he takes them down like Tarzan.