2 words: Pancake Puffs.

 

Have you seen it? The cast iron, non-stick pan on TV that cooks your pancake batter in these little balls? You can fill them up with pudding and jelly? You can even make pizza puffs if you want? Ring any bells?

 

Ever since discovering that Mia's Aqua Globes actually work (it even waters finicky exotic plants!), we've all been paying close attention to infomercials. I've got my eye on that pan, and Caleb's dying to try out the Peticure (No more painful clippers!) Also on my list of things I shouldn't be living without are: The Bra Baby (So I don't have to hand-freaking-wash my bras), The Buxton Leather Organizer (It comes with a digital recorder to keep you from losing your mind), and, of course, Mighty Putty. (Just because I'm pretty sure I need that.)

 

And although the rest of us are stuck on those cheesy ads, Mia's moved onto bigger and better things, like "Everyday Italian". Mia caught one episode of that, and ever since then, she's been practicing her cooking skills--sometimes in her own plastic kitchen, but mostly on my bathroom counter, where she can wash her hands like a good chef should. (Plus she can see herself in the mirror and pretend she's on camera.) She walks her audience through every recipe. It. Is. Hilarious. I can't even type this without snorting laughter. So today, partly to humor my little aspiring Giada, and partly because it sounded so good, we're going to actually make Grapefruit Zabaglione with Mixed Berries. No, we really are. It seems easy enough. I'll let you know how it goes.

 

Maybe our next project will involve pancake puffs.

  

  Mia's two front teeth are sparkling white. She's so proud of them.

  I can't believe it was only $30 to fix those brown lines.

  I thought Mia was already as self-confident as she could get.

  I was wrong.

  Cheyenne finally got her last year's yearbook, which was so expensive that it should be washing my dishes.

  Cheyenne's school has hit me up for more damn money in the past two weeks than they have the past two years.

  Caleb has an offer from Staples, which is good because he was thinking about buyin' a gun, maybe slingin' some dope.

  That was a joke.

  He's waiting to hear from a couple other companies before he accepts the job. Fingers crossed, people.

  My mom had knee surgery yesterday and is learning how to be hell on crutches at physical therapy as we speak.

  McCain picked a woman as his running mate. Awesome. Calculating, yes. But still awesome.

  So basically we'll either have our first black president or our first girl vice president.

  All I know is that I'll be so pissed if Barack really does turn out to be the anti-christ.

  But who are we kidding?

  McCain will probably die of old age in his sleep, and Barack will probably be shot, so that leaves us with Biden or Palin anyway.

  You are obligated to ignore anything and everything I say in regard to politics.

  We are doing nothing for the next 3 days except shaking this stupid cold that somehow penetrated my super-human germ-defense system.

  Have a good weekend everyone!

 

 

Note to self: Do not talk schmack about sick husband.

 

I'm feeling soooo crappy this morning. After weeks of bragging and rolling my eyes at Caleb's snotty nose, I too, have finally really come down with the cold I thought I could never get. My head hurts, my throat hurts, my ears tickle...stupid, good-for-nothing prenatal vitamins.

 

It's been a busy week--Tuesday Mia had 3 more cavities filled. Yesterday, Mia, Merrick and I took Darcy to the vet--fun. And today Mia is going back to the dentist to have the brown lines on her teeth fixed. I know I said it didn't matter, but that was before kids started teasing her about her "rotten teeth", and before I knew that insurance would cover it. So there you have it. We'll see what they can do.

 

I've also been thinking about having a laughing gas station installed in the house somewhere, in a cozy corner with a comfy chair. There are oxygen bars in big cities; why can't we have laughing gas? It'd be great. Maybe we'll even throw in the oxygen option. No one will ever be in a bad mood again.

 

Merrick had a total meltdown last night. He wouldn't even breastfeed--and that's normally a surefire way to get him to stop crying. (Most men never really change, do they?) I was so frustrated I felt like putting my head through the wall. In a moment of panic I called Caleb, who was down the street helping a neighbor lift something heavy, and used my most ferocious devil-voice: "I need you home NOW!"

 

And of course, exactly 2 seconds before Caleb walked in the door, Merrick calmed down. Instantly. He not only calmed down, he went right to sleep--and he stayed asleep until 6:30 a.m., only to wake up and eat a little bit before dozing off again. When he gets up I'm going to ask him, "What the hell, son?"

 

I knew it was only a matter of time before he and I had our moment. Note to self: Do not talk schmack about having "an angel for a baby" ever again. Ever. Again.

 

 

 

Last night I forced--FORCED--Cheyenne to go to her first dance. Forced. Because, yes, I just am that mom.

 

She ended up having an "okay" time, which in Cheyenne World means she had the most excellent time a girl her age could possibly have. All her friends were going; all her friends wanted her to go--but for some reason the girl was dead-set against it. I honestly don't know what her problem was; maybe she thought that if she showed the slightest interest in the dance, that we (okay, mainly me) would get all excited and want to do her hair and her makeup and take pictures and ask her if she had a boyfriend...but I could speculate until I'm blue in the face and still not understand the kid. So I told her to pick out some damn clothes and find out what time I needed to drop her off because BY GOD she was going to the stupid dance if it killed her. I swear, trying to get that girl to loosen up and pull her head out of her ass long enough to have a good time is like pulling teeth.

 

But she did it. And believe it or not, I controlled myself and didn't ask, not even once, if I could help her get ready. I didn't even smile...very big. I was so cool about the whole thing, whether she thinks so or not.

 

The last two days have been pretty good; Mia was a little disappointed waking up this morning and finding out that she wasn't going to school today. Even Cheyenne is off to a decent start this year. Things are right with the world, at least for now.

 

Speaking of school, it just so happens that my 10-year high school reunion is coming up and I'm not going for obvious reasons:

 

We just made it through the first hour of the first day of school; bear with me because I'm emotional right now. Both Mia and Cheyenne got up this morning without a problem. They got dressed and ate breakfast and didn't seem too terribly sleepy. Mia was, I think, mostly excited with a side of nervous. She had a moment as I was putting her clothes on--(a pink dress which she picked out--wow! I know, right?)--where she got kind of quiet and said to me "I'm going to miss you and daddy."

 

 

Cheyenne had herself all taken care of and she refused to be driven to school--she caught the bus, and Caleb, Merrick, Mia and I took off in the car. We waited in a mile-long line of cars, parked, and then walked Mia up to the building. She went right in without a problem and was especially happy when her teacher gave her a necklace with her name on it. All the kids were lined up in the front hallway, so Mia found herself a spot next to a little girl. She waved us good-bye with a smile. Awesome.

 

And then, the crying. Not Mia, but about 100 other kids. Bawling out of control. Mia stopped smiling so hard. The little girl beside her started to sob. Mia frowned. A kid bolted back out the door toward her mother. Mia looked worried. Parents started crying. Mia looked freaked.

 

I didn't get to see what happened next because the preschool teachers closed the doors. Caleb and I left.

 

We'll pick her up in exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes.

 

It's hard to believe she's old enough to be going off to school. Her birthday was yesterday--4. 4 years old. Already. We took her to the arcade, where, with our powers combined, we won over 1000 tickets that ultimately went towards a bunch of cheap crap from Taiwan. We came home and opened a few presents, including her kick-ass new bike. Cheyenne and her friend Kelcey helped decorate the entire house with streamers and balloons. Our neighbor-friends came over a few hours later for some cake and ice-cream, and their gift to Mia was none other than...AQUA GLOBES! along with some lovely red flowers on which to test them. I honestly couldn't believe that Shawna managed to find those things. She said she also spotted MIGHTY PUTTY but decided against it. Thank you, Jesus.

 

Mia also made off with a Doodle Bear that came with an Airbrush tool (sweet!), clothes, Barbie Mariposa--the doll and the movie-- a Littlest Pet Shop Playhouse with about a million tiny pieces to it, a tinkerbell doll with tinkerbell paraphenalia, coloring books, crayons, playdough, and generally just a bunch of stuff that she can make some pretty terrific messes with. All in all, it was a good day for her.

 

I can't get over how old Mia--hell, both of the girls--hell, all my kids--are getting. I mean, didn't I have kids so that I could HAVE KIDS? Who told them to grow up? Cheyenne's in freaking 7th grade. She wouldn't hang out with me if her life depended on it. Pretty soon Mia will have all these new little friends. Mommy and Daddy won't be her world anymore. And Merrick--well, before you know it he'll be eating solid food. And that's just heartbreaking.

 

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go check out that Littlest Pet Shop Playhouse before Mia comes back from school.

 

This week I've been on a mission: to find out what Mia wants for her birthday. She's turning 4, so this should be fairly easy, right? Little kids like toys. But I needed some inspiration. Now, normally, 'round here, when we watch TV, we watch what's known as "Noggin"--it's a channel designed for preschoolers, with all kinds of annoying-yet-somewhat-educational cartoons without the equally annoying-but-not-at-all-educational commercials. I came up with the brilliant idea of letting Mia watch a little regular TV this week, commercials and everything, so that maybe she would see some toy she just couldn't live without, like a baby doll that pees and poops, thus completing my birthday shopping list.

 

Her top picks? Aqua Globes! (waters house plants without the mess), Mighty Putty! (for repairing coffee cups and installing handles in bathtubs), and some kind of weird egg-cooker thingy (tired of burning breakfast?). All 19.99 plus shipping and handling, all only available through special TV offer.

 

Not what I expected.

 

I guess I technically could order it all, orrrrrrrrrrrrr... maybe Caleb and I will give her the stuff we just blindly threw in the buggy while we were at Toys'R'Us picking out her new wicked awesome pink bike.

 

That Mighty Putty is pretty amazing, though. It's strong enough to tow an 18-wheeler with, and you get double the offer if you call within the next 20 minutes! Maybe if I...no. No. I'd probably just end up in the emergency room with my foot stuck to my shoe. It's been known to happen. But that's another story for another time.

 

I'd like to thank msn.com for featuring an article on the awesomeness of the freecreditreport.com commercials. I heart the freecreditreport.com guy and his fake band. I have all their little ditties memorized. If they were to come out with a CD of freecreditreport.com jingles, I would be first in line to buy it.

 

Moving on.

 

I'm taking down the video of my little sister making bushwackers because the dude with the beard annoys me. Besides, Katie said she had no clue how to actually make the drink; the ones she sells are all pre-mixed and they come out of that machine like frosties, which, coincidentally, is exactly what a bushwacker tastes like. I'm surprised by how many people I've talked to that don't know what one is. Are Bushwackers to Pensacola what Hurricanes are to New Orleans? Will I have to wait until the next time I go back down there to have a good one?

 

I'm feeling a little thirsty all the sudden.

 

Yesterday I worked on digging out our front garden. We're trying to scrap the whole thing and start over fresh with something extremely low-maintenence. We're taking out all the grass and we're going to put in a bunch of rocks. Anyway, this morning I'm hurting, and not in a refreshing feel-the-burn kind of way. My back is really, really sore. I might die.

 

A bushwacker sure sounds nice.

 

Mia had one of her cavities filled. Caleb took her and she did fine. Apparently that laughing gas had her cackling like a mad man; I wish I could've been there for that, though the lop-sided smile she had for the rest of the day was pretty freakin' funny.

 

And by the way, I just knew I shouldn't have mentioned anything about Merrick's sleeping habits the other day.

 

 

 

I went to church somewhat voluntarily again Sunday with the firm intentions of never going back, but something happened while I was sitting there on that stupid wooden pew, all dolled-up and nauseous. What that something was exactly, I can't explain, but there was definitely a moment towards the beginning of the service that God politely tapped me on my shoulder. And then, as I slowly turned around to see what God wanted, He came out of nowhere with a biblical bitch-slap and knocked me on my ass for the rest of the sermon. I sat up straight. I paid attention. No, I didn't start crying or run up to the front and throw myself down on that cheap-carpeted-altar and get "saved" or anything, but for the first time in 2 months, the preacher didn't sound like a used-car salesman; he sounded like someone I could actually pay attention to for more than 5 minutes. So I listened. And I actually learned something. And I left with a skip in my step instead of a rock in my stomach. And it felt good to have been at church. And I think I might go back.

 

After that, Cheyenne and I met neighbor-friend-nurse Shawna and her daughter for a little back-to-school no-tax clothes shopping. Never before have I been such an efficient shopper--what we did in 4 hours would have taken me 4 days normally with the little kids in tow. But the real trick lies in going with friends; I've been shopping by myself before but could never seem to find anything. Anyhoo, Cheyenne made off with 3 pairs of long shorts, 3 b-r-a-s (Not allowed to say that word out loud), and one good pair of running shoes. And then Shawna became even more wonderful in my eyes by suggesting we all get cookies--not pretzels, not smoothies--cookies--mall cookies--the good kind. I think it's safe to say that the search for my one true shopping buddy is officially over.

 

Monday it was way too hot to go anywhere or do anything; I did vacuum the garage for the hundredth time this summer, but that was it for me. Today I drove to the gas station, alone, to buy a cherry coke. It...was awesome.

 

I would like to write about how Merrick has been sleeping pretty soundly through the night lately; but if I did, then he would surely stop. So I won't say anything.

 

Mia is out of her mind with excitement about her birthday and the start of preschool. I haven't yet decided what to do for her party. Keep it family only, with a cake and presents after dinner? Or put up streamers and do some sort of shrimp boil with the neighbors? This year she's turned away from Spiderman and Diego and is currently fixated on all things Pixie Hollow. She's got a sweet Tinkerbell backpack. Her new favorite movie is "Enchanted". My sweet little tomboy, finally ready to embrace a beautiful pink and purple world of Barbies and ballerinas. I never thought I'd see the day.

 

Ah, coffee. Toast with jam. The sound of the dishwasher. No shaved legs, but that's okay. It's Saturday again, and everything is right with the world. Sure, my husband is essentially jobless at the moment, but that's at the moment, and things are bound to change, soon, I can just feel it. Sure, Mia has 4 cavities and the dentist thinks we're awful parents, but what does he know? He knows teeth. And maybe gums and tongues. And that's it.

 

And sure, Merrick's head is long and pointy, but we're going to get that fixed, and truth is, I'm feeling a lot more at ease about that. And besides, to the untrained eye, the messed-up-ness is virtually unnoticable. After doing a lot of reading up on craniosynostosis and his specific condition, sagittal synostosis, I realize that Merrick has it pretty good. He can still see and smell and hear. He can gurgle and giggle and drool and spit-up. And his mom is a stone cold fox.

 

The very night after we spoke to his neurosurgeon, we just happened to flip on "Plastic Surgery: Before and After" on NGC or TLC or Discovery Health or something, and we actually sat there and watched a little girl undergo the exact surgery that Merrick will have, only hers was way more complicated; they basically removed and rebuilt her entire skull. And I'll tell you, it was something that, at the time, I didn't neccessarily want to see, but I couldn't look away. But I have to think that it was extremely helpful for Caleb and I to watch how it all goes down, and I can't really say why, but we were calmer about the whole situation the very next day. So is it a mere coincidence we caught that show? I think not.

 

And here's where I get all mushy and so-not-me on your asses: My family is so blessed, in every way. Merrick's case is mild--MILD, I tell you--compared to some of the poor children who will forever deal with deformities and other complications from this very same thing. I'm not a big fan of church, but I do believe in God, and I know right now that we're being watched over and taken care of in ways that aren't always easy for us to understand or even see at all. But most of the time, it's crystal-clear:

 

We haven't gone into debt thanks to a huge tax return this year. We have yet to recieve a hospital bill, and even though I know it's coming, I think we can handle it. We have pay out the yin-yang for insurance, but we're covered and that's what counts.

 

We have friends and family that have offered help in several forms should we ever need it. They call to check on us all the time. People we don't even know send us inspirational cards in the mail. My mom is flying up for nine whole days to take care of things during Merrick's hospital stay.

 

My kids are awesome. They're quirky and funny and entertaining and beautiful, all three of them. My husband can piss me off like no other, but he's still the world's most amazing man and he's my best friend and it doesn't get any better than that. The dogs have even been strangely well-behaved.

 

So much has happened over the past 4 months, and we haven't always dealt with it the way we probably should. But I hope that from here on out we can remember how very fortunate we are.