CHEER UP, CHARLIE

I have spent a lot of time lately trying to figure out what to do for our family's summer vacation. Vacationing with small children is a lot like childbirth. You forget quickly how bad it really can be. Although we've had some hard times trying to travel with the little ones... hard times that I can even read about on this blog... I forget how bad it really is. I think that is why I have been so keen on the idea of doing something great this summer, like maybe Hawaii? Or flying out to Boston or New York for a week?

Well... I took the kids to the zoo yesterday. Granted, it is the Phoenix Zoo, so it was 90 degrees, but still, a great place geared towards kids. Not. So. Fun. Kids need naps, down time, and air conditioning. Charlie hit his breaking point about an hour into it, but I needed to get my money's worth so we stayed for another two hours. (That's the kind of Mom I am.)

So, now I'm thinking the best vacation with our kids will be a simple one. Or maybe we shouldn't go on vacation. Maybe it would be better to spend the vacation money on a thing. I've always wanted a big plasma television for the kids to scratch up. Or we could save the money. (Saving... that's crazy!!) All I know is that I don't like being trapped with two angry kids in 90 degree weather all in the name of trying to do something fun. That's not so fun.

MOVIE REVIEW: NEW MOON

"Everyone" told me this one was better than the first one. REALLY?!

I watched New Moon for the first time last night. Guess what? Edward still looks constipated. Bella is still attracted to things that aren't human. I just about fell asleep until these guys showed up in the movie -


HELLO, Wolf Pack! This isn't your typical Southern trailer trash clan in cut-offs and no shirts, they wear nice tennis shoes when they run through the forest. Not to mention that their shorts look like they are about to fall off because they sit so low on their hips... in 30 degree weather I might add.

Let's see, then Liz Lemon's "Future Husband" was some big and powerful vampire, blah blah blah, Jacob cuts his hair, Dakota Fanning, blah blah blah, cheesy music, I want to punch Bella in the face because she is annoying, blah blah blah, then I fell asleep.

Is this worth watching at a midnight showing? Really, Ladies, REALLY?!

GRADE: C+

A+

Good news! I took Luke to the dentist for the first time ever and I passed! I'm not a bad parent who is destroying my child's teeth! Yipee!!

Am I the only one who feels like my child's first dental exam is a reflection of my parenting skills? I figured this would be a good indication of whether or not I let him eat too much sugar, or use his pacifier or sippy cups for too long. Somehow, despite doing all those things, he got an A+. The dentist even said he had "nice spacing." Oh and get this, Luke gagged just like I do at the dentist! I was so proud.

The video games put Luke into a hypnotic state. Charlie was ready to attack.

Seriously though, why can't the dentist for big people offer video games and a treasure box? Not fair. I loved how the dental hygienist threw a Nintendo DS into his hands the instant she walked away. The only real problem was Charlie. He was literally trying to climb onto Luke's lap during the entire experience. Next time, I will be sure to bring a doll to entertain Charlie while Luke is getting his teeth cleaned.

MY BUDDY, MY BUDDY

Each year, Erik's company throws a Christmas party especially for the children. The parents "register" their children in advance. This way Santa knows how many presents to buy. The girls usually receive a doll, while the boys receive some sort of truck or action figure. (For example, this year Luke got a set of fake tools.) Our friend was disgusted by their "sexist" toy selections, so he demanded that his daughter get a boy's toy. Okay, fine, I can understand that. However, he did not demand that his son receive a girl's toy. I found that to be very interesting... and a double standard.

Why is it acceptable for girls to play with trucks, cars, fake tools, i.e., pretty much anything, but when a boy picks up a doll, everyone laughs? I have never bought dolls for my boys, but last week I caught Charlie in his room, doing this -



He was "changing the diaper" of this tiny little Fisher Price person. (I apologize for the blurriness, but I had to take it fast.) Poor Charlie. We won't buy him a doll, so he has resorted to taking care of this 3 inch nub with a face on it.


I felt bad for Charlie. Then, I had an epiphany. Charlie needs a My Buddy doll!


That was the only doll I could think of that was specifically marketed to boys. So, I did a few internet searches and it turns out they don't make My Buddy dolls anymore because as everyone knows, most boys don't play with dolls, duh. So, now they are a collectible. Sorry, Charlie, I won't be paying for you to drag a $50 doll through the mud. I am totally out of the toy loop, are there any dolls for boys these days? Preferably ones I can buy at the Dollar Store? I don't mean action figures or transformers, but actual dolls. I can't think of any. Or should I pretend this never happened and not indulge my little boy's strange inclination to nurture?

GIVEAWAY

Just admit it, you entertain your child with iPod apps! So, do I!

Well, our friend Troy created an app better than the Bubbles one that my kids are obsessed with called "BalloonMaker." Really, the idea seems so simple, I don't know why this wasn't invented sooner. Troy thinks inventing iPod apps is nerdy, but I think it is genius.


Troy has graciously offered to give us some codes to download BalloonMaker for free. These codes will only work once, so act fast!

K9XX6NLWAAHW
FYPLJKRP6YRE
M3R3L4977NEA
W6AKLPX7J97F

Thanks, Troy!

WATCH OUT BELOW

Well, Luke is officially "potty trained" or at least that's what he has told me multiple times today.

Last night was the first time he successfully slept through the night without a pull-up. Even though he's been potty trained during the day for over 9 months now, I've been reluctant for a long time to take the leap of faith and let him sleep in his underwear. He was very proud of himself this morning. He told me, "I am potty trained, Mommy. I am growing up so big." The key now is for him to do it more than once.

So, with that being said, it was pretty ironic... and embarrassing... what happened this afternoon at the park.

Our park is split up into two sections - one for toddlers and one for older kids. I was watching Charlie on the toddler equipment while Luke was playing on the stuff for older kids. Although I couldn't exactly hear him, I had a pretty good view of what he was doing. I became consumed with helping Charlie down the slide for a few minutes and when I looked up there was quite a commotion over at Luke's side of the park. Parents were angry and the other kids were saying things like, "Gross!" and "Stop!!" Luke was standing alone at the top of the highest slide. I saw him come down the slide and noticed that he looked like he had to go to the bathroom.

I went over to him and asked him if he had to go. Two mothers interjected and said, "He already did." Turns out he went to the highest point on the play equipment, pulled down his pants and peed into a crowd of kids playing below. Then, according to these women, when they told him not to do that he announced, "I'm tree [3]! I'm potty trained!"

Oh dear.

Yes, Luke, it's true that you are "tree." Potty trained? I don't know anymore.

IF YOU'RE THINKIN' ABOUT MY BABY, IT DON'T MATTER IF YOU'RE BLACK OR WHITE

My sister is pregnant with her first baby. Yesterday was her 9 week appointment. Here is her actual conversation with the doctor as she was preparing to do the ultrasound -

Sister: Will the baby be black or white?

Doctor: Hmmm, that is an interesting question. I guess it is like that Michael Jackson song.

Sister (too quiet for the doctor to hear): I meant on the screen.

In the doctor's defense, some people do say that the back of my brother-in-law's head looks the same as President Obama's. You be the judge.

This is the back of my brother-in-law's head -


This is the back of President Obama's head... or is it my brother-in-law?

I think I will watch This Is It tonight in honor of the pregnancy.

MOVIE REVIEW: THE TIME TRAVELER'S WIFE

How can I complain about my husband not being home for dinner in that last post? At least he's not a time traveler. (Hardy har har.)

First, I need to admit that I did not read this book. I have no idea how this book differs from the movie. I imagine that it is probably a really good book. The premise is intriguing - a science fiction, time traveling, love story. However, the movie left me depressed and asking too many questions.

[Spoiler Alert.]

Why does Rachel McAdams never really age? Why did Eric Bana get gray hair so early? Why does she stay with him? How many times do they play the lottery? Was it really necessary to see Eric Bana's bare backside so many times? Is Ron Livingston gaining weight or is it just my imagination? Wouldn't it have been more interesting if he had accidentally shot himself at the end? Or perhaps killed in a big shoot out with the police?

Most of all, it left me wondering how and when I am going to die. Will it be peaceful? Will it be in an airplane? Will I be old? Will my death be anti-climatic like the end of this movie? I hope not.

GRADE: C+

MAKE IT STOP

Erik has been working a lot lately, which means that I eat dinner alone with the kids. This has led me to believe that there will be a point in hell where a person will be forced to eat several consecutive dinner meals as the only adult with two small children. That thought alone is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow.

I never know what to make for dinner when it is just me and the kids. When it is just me by myself, I try to choose the meal that will provide me with the most peaceful mealtime experience. Things they will eat happily are just about limited to pizza, peanut butter and jelly, waffles, plate loads of bacon, blueberries and ice cream. It's no fun trying to coax both of the kids to eat, break up the inevitable fights, and try to eat my dinner, when I am flying solo.


Tonight was crazy because I chose the wrong meal. I tried to get the kids to eat baked potatoes loaded with toppings. Bad idea. Charlie screamed for 20 minutes straight because he wanted juice and bacon. Luke wouldn't stop waving his fork violently in front of my face. All I could think was, "This must be why people get fat." Erik's failure to make it home for dinner is slowly driving me into the arms of another man. A man named Ronald McDonald. Although I hate McDonalds, how easy would it be to just go sit in the McPlayland, eat my McNuggets, drink my McCafe drink and let the kids thrash around in a McPit of balls for an hour?

I hope this doesn't last forever.

LIVE AND LET DIE

People keep asking me if Erik got his pilot's license yet, so I figured I better acknowledge it on here.


He completed it in January and now I am confronting the inevitable:

He expects me to fly with him.

Decisions, decisions... I feel like I am deciding what age I want to die.

Recently I was discussing Erik's new hobby with my Dad. He asked me, "What, Cristin, do you want to live forever?" My answer was, "No, but hitting 50 would be nice." (That question is funny considering that my Dad, when given the opportunity, didn't want to go flying with Erik either.)

It's not that I don't love my husband or that I don't love thought of flying all over the place. I just don't love the thought of being in a small private plane. I have only been in one twice in my life. Of course, both times I thought I was going to die.

The first time was in 2004. A friend of Erik's took us from Provo to Heber in Utah. I may be smiling in this picture, but inside I was screaming for dear life. It was terrifying riding around in that little car in the sky.

The other time was last September when we went to Milford Sound. As the pilot pointed out glaciers and majestic waterfalls, all I could think about was, "Why did I pay money to die???" I swore we were going to crash into a mountain.
Lady J can be purchased here.

As if the thought of flying with Erik isn't scary enough, he also wants to purchase the Lady J Female Urinary Director Adapter for me. I can't even begin to imagine how that thing works. Too frightening.

What's weird is that all these people we know want to fly with Erik and I don't. Please don't think I'm an awful wife. Just think about it like this: It's like driving with a new driver, except that I don't know how to drive the "car." If the "car" breaks down, we probably die... in a big bloody ball of fire, plummeting to our deaths, at 500 miles per hour. Ouch.

With all of that being said --

Congratulations, Honey. I'm proud of you. Honestly, I really am.

ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER

Yesterday I was sitting at the beauty salon and looking at myself in the mirror for almost two hours. (The beauty salon is about the only place where it is permissible to look at yourself for that long.) Something just didn't seem right. I figured it out right about when the appointment ended. It was my shoes.

I am a walking contradiction. Why do I spend $100 on my hair and wear tailored jeans that I buy from Saks (okay, the Saks outlet), yet I haven't changed my tennis shoes for over six years? I mean, I wear my tennis shoes almost every single day. This is ridiculous.

PUMA Californias. The most comfortable shoes every made.

I still remember the day I bought these shoes. It was at Nordstroms in Provo. I couldn't believe that I spent $60 on shoes. Hey, it looks like I got my money's worth!

The problem is two-fold. I really like my shoes, yet they are impossible to find. I'm like an addict to my old tennis shoes. The only way I am going to be able to quit them is by throwing them away and forcing myself to buy a new pair of shoes.

So, it's 2010, and I haven't bought a new pair since 2004. What do stay at home moms wear while they are out running errands nowadays? Someone please enlighten me. I am clueless when it comes to shoe shopping and I want to order some new ones this week.

YOU'RE UNBELIEVABLE

Stake Conference was yesterday and I was dreading it all week.

For a moment, I am going to pretend that none of you are Mormon. This is what Stake Conference means to me:

I wake up at 6:30 a.m. to pack bags of food and extra clothes for the kids, dress myself and the kids up in Sunday clothes, eat breakfast, then travel 45 minutes to sit with over 1,000 people to hear church leaders speak. Normally, we don't get there early enough, so we have a really bad seat and end up watching it projected onto a screen. Then, we are supposed to sit there with our very small children for two whole hours.

Except what normally happens is that the kids don't want to sit there for two hours. (What little kids would?!) The part I was really dreading was that after all of this effort, I would be walking around in the halls and outside for two hours with the kids. This is what happens in the past. What is the point of going through all of this if I can't even hear the speakers?*

However, I went because that is what you're supposed to do. I am so glad I did, because the most unbelievable thing happened -

The kids stayed in the chapel during the entire two hours of Stake Conference.

I know you don't believe me, so I will write it again.

The kids stayed in the chapel during the entire two hours of Stake Conference.

They weren't exactly the most reverent children, but they did stay in there and they didn't scream. I actually heard the talks. At the end of the two hours, Erik and I high fived each other because, as everyone knows, it's not the parents fault when kids behave badly, but parents can take all the credit when their children behave exceptionally well.

Thanks, Luke and Charlie. I owe you one.

*There is a "cry room" where you can watch Stake Conference, but we got kicked out of there once for being too loud. No joke.