Tales from La La Land

There is one thing people who have been through the baby-raising stage of life will always tell you: It gets better.

I totally wanted to make a youtube video like this one, except with people like Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Garner, Pink, and Gwen Stefani telling me “It Gets Better”. But those bitches have a lot of money, so they probably have nannies. I would totally have a nanny if we could afford it. Like someone who is on nighttime duty.

But, anyway, I do believe it gets better. Then I saw a 2-year-old in Ralphs this morning LOSE HIS FUCKING MIND over gum. (Dude. That was totally me when I was little. And, by little I mean 9, and acting like a 2 -year-old STILL because we couldn’t get Capri Sun). To be fair to this kid, gum is like a really, really big deal when you are little. I don’t think there was anything I wanted more in life than a pack of gum when I was between the ages of 3-37.

While our lives have gotten easier in many ways, and we have managed to get on a routine, I am wondering if we will get better as parents.

Because we do some shit sometimes that I am thankful no one saw. For example, about 2 weeks ago, Laef was giving Harper her bath. He was getting ready to rinse her hair and I told him that I was starting to put some water on her face so that she would begin to get used to it for when we start going to the pool. What I meant was that I let some water slowly drip down her face. What Laef heard was, “Oh, you’re throwing water in her face as though she was being dunked in the pool.” So he threw a glass of water on her face. To his credit, he blew in her face first so she’d take a breath, and not drown.

Well, it didn’t work. She did not likey the water in the face. Mommy had a panic attack, daddy felt like shit, Sanch was like, “Whatever. I’ve been dealing with these two for years. This is just the beginning.”

OK, so she didn’t die, and nothing bad came of it, but Laef and I were like, “God Damn, I can’t believe people let us be in charge of a baby.”

A few days later, I put Harper in the Bjorn and we walked up to some friends house. When we got there, Laef casually pointed out that Harper’s leg was blue. This is because her leg was pinched a little in the Bjorn. But she never cried or anything so I didn’t know. Of course, when you see your baby’s leg blue and devoid of blood, your heart immediately drops to your stomach. We took her out, daddy did whatever you do to get the blood flowing. And we went on our day.

But, seriously. What are we doing???

Then two nights ago we forgot to turn on the monitor after putting Harper to bed. She is a saint when it comes bed time, and is down for the count by 7:45 p.m. We don’t usually hear from her until 6:30 a.m. But on the night we forgot to turn on the monitor, Laef had Tosh.0 on at a 43 volume and I was in the kitchen making dinner. And all of a sudden we heard Harper screaming. We go in and get her, and it seems as though she’s been crying for a bit because her face is very red and she has lots of tears.

Ugh. Nothing will kick you in the stomach harder than that.

So, yeah. We are still figuring this whole parenting thing out. And she has her ways of getting back at us: Sneezing with her diaper off, which leads to a rocket of poop flying all over the bedroom. Or pissing on me the minute I take her diaper off for bath time. Or throwing up on me right when I put on a fresh shirt.

I guess we’re all getting better at one-upping each other.

Today I took you to daycare for a trial run before you start full time next week.

I would be lying to you if I didn’t say that last week I was counting the days until today. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had a great summer, but I was looking forward to having one day all by myself.

Then I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach. Everything we’ve done for the past 2 months (including your epic meltdowns over … well, I’m not even sure sometimes what you’re crying about to be honest) whether hard or fun, we’ve done together. Some days you are in a better mood than other days, but just having you there while I’m cooking dinner or taking a nap or sneaking onto Facebook before you realize I have turned my attention away, has become a part of my life.

I’ve learned to live my life with you in it. I’ve learned how to do almost everything one-handed. I’ve learned to eat cereal and drink coffee in under 2 minutes. I’ve learned every street around Brentwood as you really, really like taking walks. I’ve learned that you prefer to take walks in the Bjorn so you can be close to someone and see everything there is to see. I have learned that we’ve got exactly 50 minutes in the stroller before you get really pissed. I’ve learned that sometimes when you cry really hard it’s because mommy forgot to burp you and you need to let out a man-sized belch. I’ve learned that you will nap for exactly 30 minutes 4 times a day, and not a minute longer. Therefore I know exactly what I can get done in 30 minutes or less, and Rachel Ray should watch her back because I am thinking of pitching a show about how many things a person can accomplish in 30 minutes or less. And it doesn’t involve EVOO for fucks sake (EAR MUFFS, sweetie).

I’ve learned that no matter how frustrated I get at times, one smile from you can make everything easier. You have the ability to take away all my worries and guilt that I might be doing something wrong.

When I dropped you off today, you started to cry a little and then Noushin (Nou-Nou as the other kids call her) took you and you just gazed at her with big eyes. She has that baby-whisperer thing, I think. Because I’ve never seen you have that look except with me or daddy (and that’s only on a good day). I think you are in good hands.

But I am counting the minutes until you come home and we do bath time and you scream your face off when I take you out of the water to dress you. I never thought I’d look forward to that part of my day.

I miss you, buddy.

XO

Mommy

Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I have been having wicked flashbacks. And, these flashbacks date all the way back to 1980 when I hit my brother in the head with a baseball bat (it was an accident, btw). Sometimes I will have a vision of myself circa 1999 drinking a jager-bomb at Rennies chased by a Corona and 8 hot wings. And, then, in the middle of the night I will remember that time I walked to the Longeteig’s at 2 a.m. after a quick stop at 7-11 for Nachos.

Sometimes I am able to close my eyes and fall back asleep. Other times – after remembering certain things that can never be mentioned on the internet now that there’s an offspring who could potentially google me, bitch – I have to close my eyes real tight and thank my lucky stars that I somehow survived some crazy, crazy times.

Said crazy times have basically continued right up until the time I found out I was pregnant capped by the family cruise at the beginning of October. I spent three days doing shots of Patron with my sisters and eating sushi waiting for my period to start so that my boobs would stop hurting. I should have known it wasn’t the usual PMS when my sister said, “Your boobs look huge”. For those of you who are familiar with my sister, having HER tell ME that my boobs are huge is the equivalent to Donald Trump telling Laef he is rich.

I came home from the cruise still not thinking anything was up. Sidenote: People will tell you that pregnancy won’t happen if you are thinking about it too much. Which is basically impossible to do when you are trying. But, I had finally gotten to a point where I wasn’t going to obsess every month. I was convinced I would start my period every single month for the next year.

And it never came in October.

I stopped at the store on the way to work. I took the test at work (um, yes, if I could go back and do it again, I would) and immediately texted Laef a picture of the positive test (um, yes, if I could do THAT over again, I would…It would have been great to actually see his face when he saw it).

It took a few days for it to sink in. One day my life was one way, and the very next day it was different. I honestly wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I now drink milk and Juicy Juice while I watch college football. I bake pretty much all day on the weekend’s. Basically, my shit is on lock down while I try and have this baby learn that it is good to stay home and be a good girl.

Speaking of which, these flashbacks have led me to the conclusion that I probably need to have a boy. If I have a girl she will never, ever leave the house. Ever. We don’t need anymore Nacho-eating, table-dancing, shot-taking clusterfucks in our house.

By the way, Gemini’s rule.

This post has absolutely nothing to do with Antoine Dodson , but ever since I saw the AD Halloween costume, I’m thinking I really need it.

Anyway, I did not fall of the ship. I can’t believe I haven’t blogged it out since going on the cruise.

Highlights:

- After a day at the pool, and a few shots of Patron, Brooke ripped Stephanie’s bathing suit. Apparently she did not like the style and took the Peta approach, “You should go naked rather than wear this old thing!”

- After said day at the pool, I found a place to watch the Oregon vs. Stanford football game. Unfortunately, I was sitting among a gaggle of UW fans who showed no mercy when Stanford went up by about 3 touchdowns. These people were not nice. I guess that rivalry travels to the high seas. Luckily for me, the Ducks tore Stanford a new ass in the second half and the Huskies were silenced.

- The Casino. I won exactly enough to cover my bar tab for 3 days. That makes explaining a bar tab to Bossman a LOT easier.

- I can’t decide if this is a highlight or what, but every evening there is a sit-down dinner. You are supposed to dress up and act fancy. On the first night, we’re all playing along, trying to be on our best behavior when out of nowhere someone gets on a microphone and tells everyone to stand up and get ready to dance. And before we know it, Get Low is BLASTING. First of all, explain to me how sweat dripping down yo balls is appropriate dinner music. Second of all, I don’t care how old you are, how sober you are or how prudish you are: This song will get under yo skin. And there we were – my mother included – getting low in front of a bunch of strangers who were trying to finish their crab cakes. It. was. horrifyingly. wrong. And so much fun!

- Family. Between my mom and Art, all of their children and grandchildren were present with the exception of Laef, Neil, and Steph’s and Neil’s kids, Nico and Elisa. It’s probably the first time that all of us have been in the same room in…well, ever.

Lowlights

- Ship music. I don’t think we heard any music that wasn’t from the 70s or 80s EXCEPT that first night at dinner when we heard Get Low. There was no Gaga. No G6 song. No Biggie Smalls. No Madonna. On second thought this might have been a good thing. No one needs to see a bunch of strangers dancing to Blow The Whistle in broad daylight.

- Sushi bar. So, there was one tiny sushi bar. Of course the line was super long. My sister and I decided to wait in line anyway. When we got to the front, there was no ordering anything. They handed us each a plate with 3 rolls on it. Ummm….three rolls does not a dinner make. If you want more, gotta get back in line. WTF. Sake for dinner, it is!

Other than that, it’s hard to point out lowlights when I was chillin’ on a boat instead of being at work. There was the hairy chest contest on Sunday though. This was the lowest of lowlights. These dudes were so proud to flaunt their huge guts. Then at one point they decided to up the ante and include a hairy back contest. Come on people. Why?

Don’t forget to hide yo wife, hide yo kids and hide yo husband this halloween. Cuz they rapin’ errbody.

It wasn’t until after I got married that anniversary’s started registering with me. In August The Hansen’s celebrated their 10th! anniversary. Seems like just yesterday that we were sitting outside enjoying Alissa walking down the aisle in a Vikings hat, when a topless woman walked by. Only in Eugene, I guess. Then we danced the night away while Amy Longeteig demanded to take charge of the music selection.

Speaking of those Longeteig’s tricks, they’ll celebrate their 7th! anniversary next month. Wasn’t it just yesterday that the crew invaded York, Maine and did things that I can not even speak of on this blog (Jerry Elmore, I’m pretty sure you have signed a confidentiality agreement, so zip it).

Yes, time does seem to fly by as you get older, so maybe those 10 years flew by. But when you think about marriage, and the day-in and day-out commitment that you’re making to another person, it’s pretty impressive to think about 10 years of highs and lows. A lot of people give up. Sometimes the low parts become overwhelming. Sometimes it’s easier to walk away than to grind it out. Sometimes, it simply just doesn’t work out despite trying.

Which brings me to my beloved parents, Bobbi and Art, who celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary yesterday. Considering my mom is a smoker, and thinks cracking the window an inch in the car equates to rolling it all the way down, this is a huge, huge accomplishment. I know for a fact that there were highs and lows because I was there. They had a mesh of kids to deal with, who all brought some kind of drama and stress. More stress than maybe we even know. They managed full-time jobs with soccer practice, football practice, lunch money, car payments, weddings, and most definitely a constant theme of “I want” or “I need”.

But, they made it through everything. And now they’re retired enjoying whatever it is that old people do when they retire (play Family Feud on Facebook?). They fight like cats and dogs, yet I think they are best friends. They are two peas in a pod who would be lost without each other. They enjoy all of the same hobbies, and therefore truly have fun together. I think they have more fun when they win money in Tahoe. Although, I think when one of them wins they hide it from the other so that they can have a super secret stash without sharing. I think super secret stashes are the key to any happy marriage. Just ask Laef.

ANYWAY, I am truly so happy for them and completely in awe of the 25-year mark.

To celebrate this event, my mom has decided to take all of the kids and the grandchildren on a cruise. Why on Earth she would subject herself to the chaos that is about to ensue to celebrate HER special milestone is beyond me. But, I can tell you this: chaos or not, we are a fun bunch to celebrate with!

At some point during her 5th birthday party this weekend, my niece Sophie and her cousin Avery slipped away to make an audition tape for Shear Genius. I knew that they were into painting their nails, putting on eye shadow and dressing up in princess attire. You know, things that can wash off or be taken off. So when the two of them disappeared for an unspecified amount of time on Saturday, there was no reason to be alarmed.

My sister told me that she did become a little concerned when she realized it was just too damn quiet.

Apparently, it was so quiet because Sophie was focusing very, very hard on her client, Avery. Specifically, she was trying to make sure to get Avery’s bangs into a perfect V just in time for school to start next month! I’ve been told that Sophie’s cut is actually worse, but you can’t see it here. She’s apparently got a giant bald spot on the back of  her head.

This is probably more funny for me, and for my mom, because we don’t have to send those kids to school. We aren’t those parents. We aren’t the kids who have to hit up school on the first day with jacked hair. I can just hear Sophie now, “Avery, sit here quietly while I make you so beautiful. Your hair is definitely NOT going to be a hot mess!”

And then my memory started coming back to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell my mom (after she proudly proclaimed, “None of you guys ever did that”) that while she was away working and providing for her kids, a lot of shit went down that’s probably better left unsaid (i.e. light matches on the side of the house, playing with firecrackers, snooping through Christmas presents). One of the things that went down (a lot) was me using my brother as my muse.

Now, this could be a  softball muse (i.e. he catches while I learn to pitch), refining my eye-shadow applying skills, having him test out the giant hill with his big wheel before I go down it with mine, making him take the lead role on doorbell ditch, and most importantly, practicing my beautician skills.

Sidenote: Taking the lead role in doorbell ditch basically meant that he walked up to the house across the street, rang the doorbell, and had to run away fast enough to hide. All while I watched safely from our living room window.

Sidenote 2: I definitely made him let me put make up on him. A lot.

Sidenote 3: If it makes everyone feel better, I once took my bike down a steep trail and flipped over my handle bars, which led to a huge fat lip. He didn’t always get the short end of the stick.

Sidenote 4: I wrote my brother a really nice card about 15 years ago apologizing for an enormous list of things I did to him (including stealing all of his money during monopoly and eating all of the fruit roll ups before he could have any).

Sidenote 5: Fuck, I still feel really guilty about all this.

ANYWAY, while I was thinking about Avery and Sophie going to school with those bangs, I remembered something. I once cut my brother’s hair for picture day. I do not know a) why I was allowed to do this and b) why it wasn’t fixed before the photo.

So, yeah, hopefully Mike can talk to Avery and tell her how pimp it is to go to school with sweet bangs. Because, truthfully, I’m starting to think that this kind of debauchery runs in the family. Laef doesn’t seem to remember going through any sort of hair-cutting scandal with his sister. I have checked with co-workers, and they both deny ever being in such a predicament.

When I was younger, it was hard for me to not take scissors to my hair. If I wanted layers, then I would simply just try to give myself layers.

Exhibit A (Before):

Dude. Perfect hair. Perfect bangs. But, noooooooooooo, I had to get my layer on before picture day.

Exhibit B (After):

Damn. Apparently I was that kid.

So, yeah, Avery and Sophie are just following in a long line of Ross traditions. And maybe someday Avery will be lucky enough to have Brady write a blog about her and put super cute pictures of her for the whole world to see!

Tonight will be our last night in our little beach cottage. All this time we thought it was a modest 700-square foot dwelling that we made work because we were steps from the beach. It’s easy to justify having no closet space when you see this everyday. However, the other day Laef got out his measuring tape to figure out what the actual square footage.

500 square feet.

That made it even easier to continue packing boxes in anticipation of moving into a place with some real space. Not that our new place is huge, but compared to what we’ve been making work for 3 years, it’s going to feel like we can breath a little. I honestly don’t know how we made it work, but I guess we just like each other a lot to be that close day in and day out.

Despite the size, the lack of air conditioning and the commute to work, it’s a little bittersweet to be leaving. When I ran the Eugene Marathon in May, one of the things that kept me occupied was the fact that by running 26 miles around Eugene, I went past almost every place I lived in when I was in there. Between 1996-2007 I lived on Harris St., Mill St., 18th Street, Ferry St., 245 Marche Chase Dr., 295 Marche Chase Dr., Crest Dr., and Cal Young Rd. I moved almost every single year while I was there.

I have no idea why I did that.

Poinsettia Ave. in Manhattan Beach has been our home for 3 years. That is the longest either of us has lived anywhere since leaving home at 18.

There are a lot of memories.

The Six Man. That was one of the first things we did after moving in. We didn’t know what to expect, and let’s just say it became one of our favorite things to do every year. People are insane. And, it looks like we’re moving just in time because the city is trying to crack down on it big time.

Perfect Sundays. There was no better place to walk out your front door and go on a walk. We could walk to the beach, or we could just walk around the neighborhood and look at all the houses we will never buy. We went on many, many walks. It was also the perfect town to train for a marathon. I think I’ve ran on almost every street in Manhattan Beach. There’s no other place I would have liked to train. I will miss my running routes.

The Check Out Lady At Ralph’s. OK, this is random, but the same lady has worked at the self-checkout line at Ralph’s since we’ve lived here. I love going through self-checkout whenever possible because I really hate the way people bag my groceries. Yes, I am anal, but honestly, when grocery baggers put 3 things in one bag and then double bag it, I hate it. As we all know, I used to have problems with the self checkout. But, I got better, and this lady is always there to quickly save you if things go wrong. Eventually, she stopped asking for my ID (I guess she kind of got used to the wine purchases), and would exchange eye rolls with me when there were people with 700 items trying to go through the self. Randomly the other day I said bye as I was leaving and she said, “I don’t know why, but you always make me smile when I see you.” I already liked her before she stroked my ego, but that was so nice to hear at the end of a long day. I told her that I felt the same way. Then I told her we were moving. I couldn’t believe that me and the Ralph’s check out lady had gotten so close.

That’s the thing about moving. It’s hard to leave your routine behind. I have my favorite grocery store, my favorite sushi restaurant, my favorite bar, my favorite dry cleaner, my favorite gas station, my favorite breakfast spot, my favorite running routes, and my favorite memory of all: my wedding day.

Sanch has his favorite windowsill and his favorite barf spot, so he is also struggling. At this point he has no idea what is going on, he only knows that there is a lot of cardboard to eat, and a lot of boxes to play with. What he doesn’t know is that he’s about to enter a world with an air conditioner. His life is going to change forever.

We will have an extra room, and I won’t miss  people having to sleep on an air mattress on our living room floor.

Will also not miss: The 405, overpriced touristy restaurants and questionable plumbing.

Brentwood here we come!

The other day I spent several hours throwing away a lot of random things that were taking up space in our house. I thought about Art then entire time. When it comes to “cleaning”, we see things the same way: Throwing stuff away is the easiest way to go.

I can be somewhat obsessive about clutter. We live in a small place, so every little scrap of paper makes me a little twitchy. Unfortunately, Laef does not suffer from the same affliction. Laef does not seem to notice when there are 12 crinkled up Popsicle wrappers with melted juice lining the coffee table. He also thinks it is necessary to save EVERYTHING he has ever gotten in his life.

Maybe I watched Up In The Air one too many times. Maybe after hearing George Clooney tell me that my “back pack”  was weighing me down I got a little crazy and started throwing away random crap that was collecting dust over the past 15 years.

Or maybe I got it from Art.

Two years ago to the day, I wrote an Ode to Art for his birthday. No need to really write a new Ode because I pretty much covered everything in that one.

Today is Art’s birthday, and since he is one of the few people I know checks the blog, I figured I’d give him a shout out. Also, my mom made a point to let everyone Facebook know that it was his medicare birthday so I’m guessing that’s a big deal.

Oh, Art. Where would any of us be if not for your Mr. Mom ways? All of my high school friends can attest to the fact that I had the best lunches at school. Particularly on the days that Art made egg salad sandwiches. Everyone from high school can also attest that our house was the best because there was always an abundance of Miller Lite in the fridge. We could always count on Art to give us the condom talk, and in the next breath ask us if we wanted more sour cream for our baked potato.

Art and I had our battles when I was in high school (I know it’s hard to believe, but I was a psychotic bitch who liked to do the opposite of what I was told to do). Back then, I definitely was NOT of the mindset that things should be kept tidy. No, I believed that I needed to save every single issue of Vogue magazine from 1989-1992. And they all needed to be stacked in my room in a somewhat neat pile. (Sidenote: I am very, very pissed at myself that I threw those magazines away at some point). I never made my bed, picked up my clothes, turned down my music or got off the phone. My room was a disaster area, and I’m sure it made Art crazy.

So, AJB III, enjoy the silence in your empty, clean, well-kept nest today. And thank you for always feeding us and cleaning up after us.

Have a Miller Lite and cheers to the fact that you can now get a discount at Denny’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

The blog is suffering. I guess I can attribute it to writers block. There’s also a small part of me that rebelled after finishing the marathon. For months, I had to be diligent about running. The training became another thing in a never-ending to-do list.

Blogging is not necessarily a “to-do”. Obviously, if I don’t want to write, no one makes me. But, I do feel a little guilty when I leave it for weeks on end. Like I’m letting the domain go to waste. I mean, what is the point of owning the domain or having a blog if you never write on it?

This past weekend, Laef and I drove to the Bay Area to visit my family. If nothing else, I wanted to put something up for my sister and Art, who claim to check everyday.

So, here’s a brief history of what’s been going on post-marathon.

The weekend after the race, I went to San Diego for a girls night with Erin, Debbie and Kristen. It was exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk. I hadn’t been able to run the whole week, and I definitely felt “off”. Maybe it’s because my feet looked like they went through the woodchipper Fargo style. Seriously, my feet were a hot mess, and my girl Erin either didn’t want to be seen with me in flip flops, or she’s just a sweet girl (all signs point to all of the above) so she treated me to a pedicure in San Diego before the start of girls night.

It is amazing how far a little pampering can go. I didn’t even know my toes could look that cute. I ventured way out of my comfort zone (I’m usually a black nail polish kind of girl) and got bright pink toes with little white flowers. Again. WHO am I? It was so fun to sit with a friend, read trashy magazines and have my feet rubbed.

Debbie sent us a message the morning of girls night and warned “Make sure you carb load for lunch. You’re going to need a solid base for tonight.”

Erin and I decided that wine and sushi were a perfectly acceptable base.

Girls night was, um, goofy. Pictures have been deleted to protect everyone. You know, in the event they decide to run for public office.  Let’s just say that there were multiple costume changes, wigs, sunglasses, bright red lipstick, and a lot of vodka. We capped the evening by watching Betty White on SNL. I may or may not have passed out on the couch in full makeup and a sparkly blue tank top I stole out of Kristen’s closet. (I wanted my girls night clothes to be as cute as Debbie’s, and felt very un-girly in my UCLA sweatshirt).

This past weekend, Laef and I headed North to visit family. What it boiled down to was the usual – my sister and Neil did a lot of cooking (I made the mimosas so I did contribute something); my sister stole from her younger baby brother; I dominated everyone at Wii table tennis (wakeboarding is a totally different story); Laef, Neil and Mike actually combined to drink 5 beers; I somehow convinced Neil to allow the TV to be on collegiate softball; I gave Sophie candy at 10 a.m. which is apparently a big no-no for kids; and I left my cell phone sitting on a park bench only to realize it once we made it all the way back home. (Surprisingly, it was still sitting there when I went back. Damn. Kind of wanted an excuse for an iPhone).

Hanging out with the family is complete and total chaos BLISS. I actually love the madness and wouldn’t have it any other way. On Sunday before Laef and I headed back home, I took Sophie to a yogurt shop that lets you do everything by yourself. You serve your yogurt and then you get to put whatever toppings on that you see fit. In the end, you are charged by weight. Of course, being  the aunty (and being that I got to leave before her sugar high hit), I let Sophie get whatever toppings she wanted. I can tell you that she opted for: Gummy worms, chocolate sprinkles, Reeses Pieces, Reeses peanut butter cups, chocolate syrup and M&Ms. All on top of rasberry yogurt. Who would of thought chocolate syrup and gummy worms go together?

We are back home now, and because I don’t have running to keep me occupied, I am focusing my time on moving. Sadly, we will be vacating our little beach bungalow in July. It is definitely bittersweet as we have so many great memories from living in Manhattan Beach. However, we have outgrown the place and are tired of commuting to work everyday. So, on the bright side, we will be living closer to UCLA to avoid the madness of the 405 freeway, and we will finally have a guest bedroom!

Because of my excitement re: more space, I may or may not have already starting packing. This type of behavior makes Laef insane. I’m just trying to avoid one of those 13-hour moving days where you do everything in one day – pack, load the car, unpack. Those days SUCK. I’m pretty sure I will see the Longeteig’s on my doorstep in July since I think I’ve helped them move once. Or 9 times.

We’re heading home to my parents for Easter weekend. All of my siblings, nieces and my nephew will be there. Should be tons of fun.

And educational.

When you hang out with a group of small children, you learn very quickly that most of your vocabulary is not acceptable. Therefore, E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G has to be spelled out. Many times, this includes multiple words in one sentence, which after 3 cocktails (absolutely necessary during a family weekend, and any member of my family who is offended by this statement, should glance at the d-r-i-n-k in their hand), is extremely hard do to.

I used to wonder if it was necessary to talk like your competing against a 5-year-old for first prize in the spelling bee. Like, do we really need to spell out b-a-t-h? Don’t they figure this shit out after the tenth night in a row? I figure they hear the letter “b” and they are like, “F this. I’m outty.”

Then we got The Sanch, and while it is evident that he definitely knows what we are saying (“come here”, “NO”, “get the fuck off the counter”), he ignores everything that is ever said to him.

EXCEPT for the word treat. That little biatch learned that word immediately. He could be in the deepest REM sleep of his life and if we say “treat”, he is up and at ‘em immediately. So, I can definitely understand the need to spell out certain things when you are trying to avoid conflict.

My sister, Brooke, stopped through LA on her way to Mexico last week, and she brought her two daughters with her. Brooke and I were reminiscing about the last time she visited. The time we got absolutely shit-faced on Tequila on a Thursday night.

Me: “I have not been that drunk since”.

Brooke (whispering to Laef and I): “Shhhhh…don’t say drunk.”

Laef: “Remember that time when you visited and you hung out with your friends Dru n’ K?

My niece:  “You were drunk!”

Sadly, there is an age limit to the spelling/play on words tactic. So I guess this weekend I will have to use huge words like inebriated and lavation.