Endless and Unavailing

At some point in my education, I was introduced to the Greek myth about Sisyphus. Here's a quick summary from Wikipedia for those not familiar with this character.

Sisyphus was "a king punished by being compelled to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity.The word "sisyphean" means "endless and unavailing, as labor or a task."

Never have I sympathized more with poor Sisyphus that I do now. Lately, this sums up the state of my house. Endless and unavailing. Everyday, I do dishes, I do laundry, I sweep and swifter the floor, I help the kids pick up their toys...and a few hours later, I have to do it all over again. The boulder is right back at the bottom of the hill.

For a time, Max contended that the state of the house was my fault. I let it get this way. The whole disaster was 100% preventable if I just cleaned as I went, made the kids put away each toy before playing with the next. I tried to explain to him that the water was simply entering the boat faster than I could bail, and trying to fight it was futile.

However, Max refused to believe me and continued to do very little to help me clean the house. I was getting very frustrated and resentful. Several people I knew told me to "just talk to him". Hmm...well, I've tried that several hundred times, got any other ideas? Unfortunately, the whole "communication" thing wasn't really working in this instance. So I decided to escape. When Daniela was a few months old, I took up cycling. I left him alone with all three kids for several hours while I biked and "forgot" to take my cell phone with me.

When I came back from my ride, the house looked like an episode of Hoarders. The boys were still in their pajamas and eating from an open bag of Cheetos, half of which had spilled onto the floor and been ground into the rug. Daniela was still wearing the diaper she had slept in which was so soaked that it was hanging off of her. Her face and hands were covered in chocolate pudding. When Max saw me, he immediately jumped off the couch and headed for the bathroom. Could I believe it? He couldn't even take a shower with these kids. Umm...yeah, I could believe it. Why do you think I cut off all my hair and dress like a bag lady? The kids don't leave you much time for grooming. Or anything really.

So after several bike rides, Max finally caved and admitted that the house being a disaster was not my fault. The minute one mess is cleaned, another appears, no matter what you do. And he started helping...a little.

So, I agree that communication is key. If you want a clean house, all you have to do is communicate this to a cleaning lady and go for a long bike ride. Maybe someday, I will be able to afford that cleaning lady. Until then, well...my boulder awaits.

Family portraits: the good, the bad, the out of control

Lately, I've gotten several holiday cards from family and friends. It got me to thinking about our experiences with family photos. The title of this post pretty much sums it up. In our years of being a family, we've only attempted trying to get all of us in the same photo three times. Here are the stories.

The Bad: Family Portrait of 2007

It was November, Nico was 2 months old and Mateo had just turned 2 years old. I was exhausted and hovering around 235 lbs. I was still "adjusting" to having two kids. In other words, I was barely maintaining my sanity on a day to day basis. I scheduled our photo session for a Sunday morning since the boys were usually the least cranky in the morning. I figured this early time was probably our best bet. The night before, Max went to a party. He called me later to inform me that he was going to stay at his friend's house that night since he had "had a few drinks". Max is really not a drinker, so I figured he was just being responsible and didn't want to drive. I reminded him about our 10 am appointment and hung up. The next day he came home around 8:45am. And he really didn't look good.

"Do I have to be in this photo?" was the first thing he asked me.

"Not if you don't want to, I guess." was the tearful response I gave.

"No, no. Nevermind. I'll go." he said quickly, "Just let me take a shower."

While Max took a shower I changed both boys diapers and tried on seven different shirts, concluding that I looked fat in all of them. Not much of a mood lifter.

Max got out of the shower, and from the depths of his closet pulled out the ugliest shirt I had ever seen and put it on. I opened my mouth to protest, but realized that 1. it was almost 9:30 and 2. Max looked like he was going to throw up. So instead, we all got in the car and started driving to the studio. I glanced over at Max and realized that although he had showered, he hadn't shaved. And despite the cool November air, his face was covered in sweat.

When we entered the studio we were hit with a blast of hot air. Even though it was in the 60s outside and most of the other families there were dressed in Christmas sweaters, the studio thought it was a good idea to crank up the heat. Max held Nico and fanned himself with a nearby magazine while I tried to change Mateo into the holiday outfit I had packed in his diaper bag. Mateo screamed and refused to wear the pants or sweater. We walked into our session with Mateo wearing a beat up pair of red summer shorts. Max looked awful and I didn't look much better. Nico slept through the whole thing. Mateo screamed and squirmed. As the photographer snapped several photos, I looked over at the next family waiting for their turn in the studio. The kids played quietly. The mom was slim with perfect hair and make-up. The dad was clean shaved and smiling. No one seemed exhausted. No one seemed hung over. No one seemed overwhlemed by it all. I tried not to cry until we got to the car.

The Good: Family portrait of 2008

A year later, things were looking up. Nico was 15 months old and Mateo was three years old. I had been religiously doing Weight Watchers for a year and was at a weight I hadn't seen since high school. After last year's bad experience, I had decided to play my cards differently. First off, I pick out all our outfits well in advance to avoid another ugly shirt fiansco. Then, I scheduled our photo session for a weekday evening, for obvious reasons. Max was shaved and showered. I had on makeup. And the kids were marvelously behaved. We got compliments from the photographer. For a few fleeting moments, we were that family! We had it figured out. It was the Halley's comet of family portraits for the Bisbal family. We most likely will never see something like this happen again in our lifetime.

The-out-of-control: Family portrait of 2010

Two years later, Daniela had joined our family, and we had come to accept the chaos we lived in as normal. We attempted this photo session in the summer with the idea that the no one else would be in the studio. We were right, and it was a good thing. Believe me we needed the room. It probably would have been easier to get a bunch of squirrels to perform a synchronized swim routine than get a great shot of the Bisbals. Both Nico and Daniela refused to cooperate. Nico did jumps and somersaults all over the studio, but refused to sit still or even look at the camera. Daniela arched her back and screamed in protest when I tried to sit her in my lap. Max and I expected it, though, since they hadn't been much different on the car ride to the studio. The photographer was not so patient. After a few shots she declared that "this probably isn't going to work". Yeah, it probably wasn't. I could have told her that on the phone when I made the appointment. Most things we attempted that year, like grocery shopping for instance, we knew "proabably weren't going to work" with all three kids. We realized that getting a family portrait that year was like asking the ocean not to move. An impossible task, but we attempted it anyways because you never know. Lightening has been know to strike twice.

After writing this, I found all these photos to post. The 2010 and 2008 photos were on my facebook page, but I had to go looking for the 2007 one. As I took a picture of it with my digital camera, I thought to myself, hey this is actually a really good picture of us.

Bye Bye Bottle

Hello. My name is Jackie and my 2 year old still takes a bottle. What can I say, the recovering Catholic in me feels the need to confess her motherly shortcomings. Believe me, they are numerous, so I'll just stick with this one for today. Daniela turned two last August and, up until a couple days ago, still took a bottle. "Isn't she your third baby?" you must be asking, "Don't you know how to do this by now?" Well, if your asking if I have my act together the answer is still no, but taking the bottles away from the boys was a breeze. Both of my boys were done with bottles shortly after their first birthdays. But there was a big difference. The boys were addicted to pacifiers, know to them as "binkies". The binky was the essential item needed to get them to sleep. I didn't dare take those away. I let them keep those binkies until they were almost three. Daniela, however, made it clear when she was a little baby that she did not share her brothers' love of binkies. So, out of desperation, I have let her keep her bottle so as not to mess with her bedtime routine. She actually goes to sleep at 7:30pm on the dot. No fussing. No waking up at night. Nothing but peaceful sleep.Who in their right mind would mess with that?

But, I know she's been playing me. Big time. She goes down for a nap, without a bottle, no problem for her babysitter and has done so for months. She is very capable of sleeping without a bottle, but she knows I'll give it to her. So like any smart kid, she takes advantage when she sees an opportunity.

Daniela's speech therapist has been subtly suggesting I get rid of the bottle since he started with her a few months ago. I've been bending the truth a bit and saying that she only takes ONE bottle at night to go to bed. The truth is that if she asks for it, I give it to her. Just doesn't seem worth the fight. But on his most recent visit, Daniela totally outed me.

She signed for milk, so we went to the kitchen and I began to pour some milk into a sippy cup.

"Nooooo!" she protested.

"What's wrong? Do you want your princess cup instead?" I tried, knowing damn well what it was she wanted.

"Uhh-uh." Daniela said shaking her head and giving me a puzzled look. She then ran to the dishwasher, opened it, pulled out a bottle and nipple, and handed it to me.

"You know, you've got a long winter break. It's a great time to work on getting rid of the bottle." her speech therapist said. Busted. Ok, ok...so I still let her have a bottle. And you've been telling me for months to get rid of it. I'm officially a non-compliant parent. I'm not doing my part. I will change. I promise. We will get rid of it. Today. For real.

So after he left. I tried to discuss the bottle with Daniela, well as much as a two year old with a speech delay can discuss such things.

"Daniela, are you a big girl or a baby?" I asked.

"Babeeee!" she said.

"No. You're a big girl." I tried.

"Yeah!" she screamed and started clapping.

OK.

"Big girls don't use bottles, so I'm going to take your bottles and give them to a little baby, ok?"

"Yeah! Babeeee!" Daniela cheered.

Hmm... I wasn't really sure if she understood any of that, but it was time to take the plunge. So I gathered her bottles and put them in the garbage bin outside. No turning back now.

Surprisingly, Daniela has never asked about her bottle since. She has signed for milk and been fine with a sippy cup. However, that 7:30pm bedtime seemed to have gotten thrown out with the bottles as well. Last night, she fell asleep with Max around 10pm and tonight, she finally went down in her own bed at 11pm. Both nights, her slumber was preceeded by several failed attempts that involved screaming fits. Hopefully, she is not forever changed.

Heaven

"Are you going to be an old lady someday?" Mateo asked me.

"Yeah, some day." I replied.

"When you're an old lady, will you be like 200 years old?" he giggled.

"No. No one lives that long." I said without really think about what I just implied. Too late.

"Wait a minute. Are you going to die?" he asked suddenly sounding quite alarmed.

"Well..." I hestiated. "Yes, but not for a really, really long time."

"But I don't want you to die! Wait! Am I going to get old and die too!?!"

There's no getting around this one. I guess I could lie...but

"Yes. But not for a really, really long time." I tried to sound reassuring.

Now Mateo is crying.

"I don't want to die! I don't want you to die! WAIT! What about Bubba!?! (his name for Max).

OK, I had to get this situation under control fast.

"It's ok, Mateo. When we die, we will all go to heaven and live there together forever."

"But I don't want to move to heaven! I like living in Las Vegas!"

Ok, that was funny. But Mateo is still pretty upset, so I force myself not to laugh.

"No, Mateo. When we die, our hearts go up to heaven and live there forever."

"Is there a Wii in heaven?"

Hey, gotta ask about the important stuff right?

"Yes." quickly reply. I mean, why not? Heaven is supposed to be eternal happiness and isn't that the definition of eternal happiness for a six year old boy.

Mateo considered this for a while and went back to watching TV. But a few minutes later, he was crying again.

"I'm still worried about you and Bubba dying." he said a single tear streaming down his face.

I went over to Mateo and hugged him tightly. My own father died when I was about his age. But, Mateo doesn't even know that I had a father, other than my stepdad who is his Grandpa. I haven't told him. Mostly because it is sad and because I'm not quite sure how my father fits into Mateo's life. I decided we've had enough hard truth for today. Thankfully, I could lie about being certain about this next one.

"Listen. Mommy and Bubba are not going to die for a long, long time." I finally reply.

"But I'll be all alone when you do die." he said.

"No. You'll have Nico and Daniela. And you'll probably be all grown up and have your own family." I add because hopefully it's the truth. The odds are very, very good that next week I will turn 32, an age my father never lived to see, and that I will live to annoy and embarass Mateo throughout his entire childhood and well into adulthood.

"And, remember, when we do die, that you will see us again in heaven, ok?"

"OK." Mateo said seeming satisfied.

A few minutes later, Mateo called, "Hey, Mommy, am I going to be married?"

"Maybe someday...but not for a long time." I replied with a smile.

The Naughty List

The great thing about Santa is that you can make him do whatever you want. The possiblitities are only as endless as your creativity really. According to tradition, one has to communicate with Santa by writing a letter and sending it through postal mail to the North Pole. But who does that anymore? I've decided that Santa is now able to recieve phone calls, emails, and more importantly, text messages. So, I've been telling the kids that I've been texting Santa. Mateo, smart as he is, has been calling me out on this.

"So what's Santa's phone number?" he demanded last week on the car ride to school.

" 555-1234" I answered back, "but it won't work if you call it. Santa's phone only works for adults."

So that brings us to today's story, our most recent communication with Santa. After a recent trip to Toys R Us with Grandma Mookie, Nico's two greatest loves have come together: Monster Trucks and the Wii. To say that he is obsessed with this game is an understatement. He wants to play it ever minute of every day with the desperation that a crack addict has for another hit. Due to the hysteria the Wii ensures for both boys, we have long ago limited the Wii to weekends only. However, since getting the Monster Truck game, Nico has started fighting me about this rule like never before by following me around the house and whining non-stop, "Can I play it now? now? NOW!?! ahhh! This is taking a long time! Why isn't it the weekend yet" (A question many of us ask ourselves repeatedly during the week for other reasons).

The thing that gets me is that Nico & Mateo play so well together when video games are not part of the equation. They play outside. They play very imaginative games with their cars and action figures. They color pictures and do play dough. All this without a problem. But if the Wii is an option, then that's all they want to do all day, and it's always a fight to turn it off, especially with Nico. Nico and Mateo get into very heated arguments about the Monster Truck game because 1. Nico must always win and 2. Nico refuses to let Maeto play anything other than Monster Trucks which Mateo is getting pretty sick of.

Today, the plan was that Max would go to his friend's house and take both boys. After being informed that he would have to stop playing Monster Trucks and leave the house, Nico totally lost it. At that point, I'd had enough. And seeing as I was going to be with the kids 24 hours a day for the next 2 weeks, I decided to put a stop to it for everyone's sake.

I pulled out my phone and texted a friend about tomorrow's bike ride. He texted me back a few seconds later.

"That was Santa." I declared. "He knows Nico is being bad and he is coming to take the Wii."

"Nooooo!!!!!" screamed Nico. "My Wii!!!! My Monster Trucks!!!!"

I walked over to the TV and disconnect the Wii. I carry it into the garage and lock the door. I quickly hid the Wii and opened the door. A tearful Nico was waiting on the other side.

"Santa just left." I said calmly, "He was very sad. He thinks you might be on the naughty list now, so he took your Wii to the North Pole. He told me he might bring it back on Christmas if he sees you are being good this week."

"OH, NO! OH NO! MY Wiiiii!!!!!" Nico sobbed as he collapsed to the floor.

"Yep, you're not going to get to play it for a long time." said a grinning Mateo who had been quietly watching this scene unfold.

"Mateo, Santa said he was sorry you had to lose the Wii because of Nico." I told him.

"It's ok," replied Mateo, "I still have my Nintendo DS"

I glanced at Max who was trying his best not to laugh.

"Santa sees you crying." Max told Nico. "If you keep crying like this, he'll probably keep the Wii."

Nico's sobs subsided into a soft whimper. Poor Nico...hope he redeems himself and gets back on the nice list by the 25th.

Priorities

Conversation with third graders about homework

"Mrs. Bisbal, what if you like don't have time to do you're homework?" asks one of my more challenging students.

"Well then you should talk to me about it. Every once in a while an emergency situations happen. You just need to let me know." I answer half distracted as I turn on the overhead projector to start reviewing the daily problems.

"No. I mean like everyday." he persists, "What if you like don't have time to do your homework everyday?"

I glance at the clock. We've got to get started. I quickly remind some students to move along and get ready to review the daily problems.

"Hmmm...sounds like you have too many things going on. Maybe we should call your mom and tell her you need to stop playing football after school." I finally answer figuring that might stop this unproductive conversation.

"No, no, no...I'm not talking about me." he quickly answers defensively, "I just mean what IF someone never had time to do their homework."

Ah, yes. Another great philosophical conversation.

"Well, I guess that person wouldn't learn as much." I suggest. I should just leave it at that. We've got to get moving with the lesson. But I can't. I have to add, "Boys and girls, homework and school work needs to be your top priority."

"What's a top priority?" asks another student. Ugh. I opened that can of worms, didn't I? Now this is a full blown conversation. So much for staying on schedule.

"If something is a top priority, it is your most important thing. Getting your work done needs to be your most important thing." I say.

"Yeah. That's the whole reason we're in school. To learn." adds one of my more dilligent students.

"No. Mrs. Bisbal. Your family should be your most important thing." immediately chimes in another boy.

"That's true. Family is important." Can't argue with that, I guess.

"No, Mrs. Bisbal, the most important thing is God." says another boy with a very grave look on his face, "God needs to be your priority." Oh, man. Did we really have to pull the Jesus card? Ok, enough. We need to get started.

"Thank you for sharing that opinion. That may be true for some people." I take a sip of my coffee and continue, "Boys and girls, your family and God and everyone else on Earth and in heaven wants you to make doing well in school your priority. Can we all argee it is important, and we need to find time for it?"

"Yes"

Finally we start the daily problems. We read the first one aloud and a hand immediately shoots up. Good. Time to get rolling.

"Mrs. Bisbal? You forgot to do the burrito count." Ah, priorities...

Rise and Shine

Saturday 5:23am

"MaaaMaaaa!!!"

"MaaaMaaaa!!!"

Daniela is up. But, unlike an alarm clock, I can't hit snooze.

"MaaaMaaaa!!!

A brief pause.

"Buuubaaa!!!"

This is her name for Max. She's given up on me, and is now hoping that he father will open her door. Unfortunately, Max is at work. So I haul myself out of bed and open her door. Daniela dashes out the slaps the living room TV.

"On!"

So I turn on the TV.

"Nooo!!!"

Apparently the episode of Diners and Dives that is on is not what Daniela had in mind. What did people do before DVRs? As Daniela see the openning to Yo Gabba Gabba she begins to jump and cheer wildly, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Being that she is my third child, I should know that going back to bed is not an option. Technically, I can go back to bed. But doing so will have consequences. It's not a wise choice, but I'm tired...and she is watching TV right?

Saturday 6:05am

"MaaaMaaaa!!!"

I open my eyes and see Daniela running towards me.

"Here! Here!"

She's holding something, but without my glasses I have no idea what it is. It looks like a small ball. Daniela throws it into the middle of my bed. As I roll towards it, I immediately feel the wetness seeping into the sleeve of my shirt.

I put on my glasses. It is cracked egg. The egg white continues to leak out of the shell onto my newly changed sheets. Daniela starts to jump and cheer again as I get out of bed with the oozing egg in hand.

"Eat!" she sings out.

"Let me guess," I say, "Do you want an egg?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Crazy Eyes

Nico started pre-K this year at my school. I'll admit I was a little apprehensive at first because he's not exactly a happy-go-lucky, go-with-the-flow kind of kid. Nico is basically a grumpy old man in a 4 year old's body. So, I wasn't quite sure how that would play out in a school setting.

But, it turned out to be the best thing for him. It's really helped him grow up A LOT. No complaints from his teachers, and Nico contends that school is "good" because he "tries to make happy choices". He's made friends and is very into learning the letters so he can read like Mateo.

And even though most mornings I'm on the verge of losing my mind due to watching both boys and trying to get ready for my students, Mateo enjoys having Nico at school with us. He also enjoys reminding Nico on a daily basis that he is "only in Pre-K" which by the way makes him "still little".

Recently, Nico made a turkey out of construction paper and fake feathers. He was excited to show me what he made and tell me exactly how many feathers it had. When we got home he said, "Now hang that chicken up! I don't want Daniela to touch it."

So the Thanksgiving chicken joined the Jack-o-latern,the letter S make out of glitter glue, and his star student certificate on the tack board in his room.

The next day, when I dropped him off at Pre-K, I told one of his teachers how proud he was of the "chicken" and that we hand to hang it up.

"Aren't those eyes great! They really make the turkey cute." she replied.Uh-oh. Busted. I have no idea what she's talking about I just kind glanced at the thing.

"Oh, I didn't really look very closely at the eyes, what are they like?"

"They were all different. Some had glasses, some had long eyelashes. It was interesting to see which eyes the kids picked. It really reflected their own personalities."

Hmmm. Now this got me curious to see which eyes Nico picked.

So after school I asked him, "Nico, do you remember what kind of eyes you picked for your turkey?"

"Yes. Crazy eyes." he replied.

"Oh, why did you pick crazy eyes?"

"Because everybody chases that turkey around and around and it drives him crazy. It's a mad, crazy turkey."

I know the feeling. I empathize with that turkey. Quite a fitting sentiment for the holiday season, I'd say. So when we got back home, I looked at the turkey and, sure enough, it looked pissed. I'd say his teacher's observation was correct.

Sunday Dinner

15 minutes before dinner
" I want a cookie with frosting" Nico demands.
" Not right now Nico. We're having dinner soon." I reply
"NOOO!!! NOW!!" Nico shrieks, throwing himself against the refrigerator. Daniela rushes in. She starts hitting the fridge with her hand yelling "Ow! Ow!"
Did I mention that I'm trying to cook. And that my kitchen is smaller than an airplane bathroom.
"Listen, you can have a cookie after dinner, but now you need to leave the kitchen so mommy can cook."
"Fine, go cook. And don't watch me!" Nico barks as he opens the fridge and starts looking for the cookies with frosting.
Ok, fine. This can go down the hard way. I grab the cookies and put them on top of the fridge.
"If you are hungry, you can have a cheese stick or grapes. Dinner will be ready soon and you can have the cookie after dinner."
"AHHHHHH!!!!"
Max hears the cries since we are now louder than the TV and comes into the kitchen. If you're keeping track that is now 4 people, 2 of which are hysterical, in the world's smallest kitchen. Max and Nico begin to agrue some more about the cookie. Daniela is still slapping the fridge and yelling. Max drags Nico to his room, but this does nothing to calm him down. I finally cave and bargain with Nico. In exchange for stopping his screaming, he can have one Nilla wafer. Miraculously, it works. I give one to Daniela too and they both run outside. Back to dinner.

5 minutes before dinner
"Ok everyone. Start cleaning up." I yell.
Max stays on the couch, seemingly unaware that I've said anything. Nico is outside jumping on the trampoline in his underwear reciting the Pledge of Allegiance at the top of his lungs. Daniela is drawing on her belly with a magic marker. And Mateo is playing outside with the neighborhood kids. I start herding them in, one at a time, trying to get them to pick up their toys, wash their hands, etc... Finally I give up, sit down at the table where I've put everyone's plate, and start eating by myself. Whatever, I'm hungry.

Dinner
I am eventually joined by the rest of the family. Daniela has brough her bowling game to the table and is busy lining up all the pins.
As soon as he sits down, Nico asks, "Where's my cookie with frosting?"
"I told you, you will get it after dinner."
"Aw...this dinner is yucky." he whines.
"Yeah, it's really disgusting." Mateo adds.
"What are you talking about?" I say nicely. "It has all kinds of things you like. There's meat and cheese and vegetables..."
"YUCK, YUCK, YUCK...I want a cookie." says Nico.
Max and Nico start to agrue about the cookie again. I look at Daniela and tell her to try some of her dinner to which she shakes her head and continues to set up her bowling pins.
Finally a compromise is reached and Nico agrees to eat 4 bites of his dinner because he is 4 years old. Make as much sense as most things he says. Then he will have a cookie. He eats his 4 bites and then changes his mind that he would like ice cream instead. You can guess what Mateo and Daniela did when they saw the ice cream.

3 minutes into dinner
We are all sitting, nicely and calmly, at our kitchen table. Max and I are eating the casserole I made. The kids are all eating bowls of ice cream. A peacful silence settles over us. Just the way I pictured my family Sunday dinners.

Face Paint

"Can I get my face painted like a pirate?"

This didn't seem like an unfair request from Mateo. We were in Legoland and we were just passing a booth that displayed several photos of kids' faces painted up to look like pirates, superheros, and princesses. A little girl sat in a chair as a lady brushed a colorful butterfly on her cheek. Sure, why not?

"How much is the face paint?" I asked

"Depends on what you want."

"Mommy, I want Spiderman!". Nico has now caught on to what we are doing and wants in on the action too.

"Spiderman is $17." the lady replies nonchalantly with a smile on her face.

Hmm...I must have heard that wrong. It sounded like she said $17, and that can't be right. Because that would mean that I would be shelling out $34 for both kids to get their faces painted. Paint that will wash off in a few hours. Unless of course they decide they want it off sooner.

The boys have had their faces painted before. At Christmas time, we were at a toy train show (again, the boys picked this activity, not me- last time I decided what the activity was it was 2002). Mateo got Batman and Nico got SpongeBob. When Mateo saw his face in the mirror, he said, "Wow, cool!" and left it on the rest of the day. Nico, however, took one look at the artist's handywork and screamed, "Get this guy off my face!". After trying to be persuaded otherwise, I finally gave up and wiped off the SpongeBob with a wipey I had in my purse. I remember being pissed about that. And SpongeBob only cost $3.

"Excuse me? Did you say $17?"

"Yes. You can pay over there. They accept credit & debit cards."

Uh-huh. I'm sure they do.

"Mateo, honey, that a lot of money."

"No, it's not, mommy."

"Well, actually it is. There's so many other things we could buy for $17..."

"Awwww!! Mom!! I want to look like a pirate!" Mateo pouts. "And Nico wants to be Spiderman!" he throws in to try and guilt trip me further.

"Listen," I try a different route, "I promise that when we get home, we can buy face paint and I'll paint your face. OK?"

"Uhhh!!" This is the only answer Mateo gives me along with his sourest puss. We wait in line at the next ride in silence. Mateo brooding, Nico cranky and insisting on being carried, and me wondering who hell pays $17 for face paint.

So we get back from Legoland and there is no mention of face paint. Good. They forgot. Time to put on Nick Jr and check my Facebook. I click the TV on and..."Mommy! Remember that! Remember at Legoland you SAID you'd GET me that!"

I glance up and see a commerical for a facepainting kit. Shit. "Yeah, I remember. We can go to Party City today and get some face paint."

So we go to Party City and pick up a face painting kit for $2.99. And because the cashier is the only adult I've seen all day, I tell him about the $17 Legoland deal. "Wow! Outrageous! Smart of you to come here." Why thank you. That's what I thought.

So we get home and Mateo, Nico & I watch several how-to videos on u-tube about facepainting. I don't have any of the brushes or special kinds of paint they recommend, but I manage to make Mateo into Black Spiderman and Nico into a skeleton. Daniela take one look at Nico and immediately bursts into tears. Nico initially enjoys this new ability to terrify his sister, but then gets bored and makes me change his face paint to Red Spiderman. Predictably, the boys then drag out the Halloween costumes and everyone, including Daniela, gets dressed up. Daniela even gets in the spirit and lets me paint a ladybug on her face.

Smack Talk

"Come on Grizz! You sleepin' or what?"

Now I know I'm ahead of Mark on the elliptical so far. But just to make sure, I glance over at his machine and check his total strides. Just as I suspected. I'm still ahead. Next to us an older woman is doing her own elliptical workout at a very normal, sane pace.

"Whatever. Check my machine, I'm ahead of you. Hurts, doesn't it? An overweight mom of three is kicking your ass."

Now the lady next to us lets out and audible chuckle and smiles at me. Mark laughs too and proceeds to beat me like he always does. Come on, I can't hold that kind of pace for an hour. I'm an overweight mom of three, remember? But I like to smack talk.

Few weeks later...

"Hey speed racer, you don't have to power up that hill. We still have a long ride ahead of us."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this pace was too fast for you. Seemed easy to me. Would you like me to slow down?"

Glen had nothing to say back to that, but he did make sure to drop me on water tower hill and on the flat section going back to Henderson. As he should, he's a much more experienced cyclist that me. But, I like to smack talk.

I come by it honestly. Many of my family members are also smack talkers. In fact, Mateo it seems has inherted this trait as well. Today at T-ball practice is a good example.

Mateo asked one of the boys on the team what his name was.

"Nothing!" shouted the boy.

Mateo looked confused and responded, "Nothing? Your name is nothing?"

"No. I'm just not going to tell you my name."

I sat in a lawn chair a few feet away observing this conversation while pretending to read my book. I wondered if I could smack this little brat upside his head and make it look like an accident. God, I hope he's not in my class someday. But I didn't intevene. I wanted to see how Mateo would handle it.

"Ok." Mateo said, "Well if you won't tell me your name, I'll just have to give you a name. How about Lilly?"

"Haha. Lilly is a girl's name!" said another teammate.

"Yeah. You can be Lilly. The prettiest girl in T-ball." Mateo sang out with a huge grin as the offending boy's jaw dropped.

I stared down at my book and forced myself not to laugh. Another smack talker. I'm oddly proud of him at this moment.

Stressed Out Anyone?

Unlike some people, I don't pretend to have my shit together. The truth is I'm usually chasing my tail and the majority of the time, it is my own damn fault. Take right now for instance. It's 11pm on a school night and I'm on the internet. It's really gonna suck to wake up at 6am having gone to bed at midnight. Yes, I know. Entirely my fault. Self imposed stressed.

So it's no surprise that with report cards due, I'm totally behind. The following dream is the result of said stress.

I'm teaching math. I turn my back on the class to write something on the board and when I turn around I find that the students have totally rearranged their desks. They are all sitting next to their friends and talking really loud. I become enraged and tell them to move their desks back. But they won't.

"Fine!" I shout, "I'll just do it then. Get out of the way!"

I start to move the desks back, but then I realize that the students have cleverly taken off their name tags, so I have no idea whose desk is whose. Also, I just can't get the desks to move where I want them to! All this desk moving is getting me hot, so I take off the sweater I'm wearing.

Just then, my assistant principal walks in and asks, "Where are your students?"

I look around and realize that they all left the room and I have no idea where they are. Then I look down and realize that I had nothing on underneath my sweater and I've been moving around the desks totally topless!

I told this dream to my friends Jamie. She cracked up when I got to the topless part. Guess it wasn't bad enough that my entire class turned on me and then I lost them all. I had to be naked too.

Hopefully one day I'll learn to stop shooting myself in the foot and not leave things till the last minute. Unlikely. But the thought comforts me. I could be that teacher whose report cards are done 3 weeks before they are due. I could be that super efficient, organized, fabulous, skinny mom whose mini-van floor is not covered in crushed up Goldfish crackers. Maybe, but not this week. And next week is not looking so good either :)

Things I forgot about 18 month olds

So Daniela is now 18 months old, which means she has officially gone from being a sweet, docile baby to being a wild, unruly toddler. Although she is my third child, I forgot about certain things that 18 month olds do (more like blocked it out of my memory- a coping strategy I'm sure). Here is a short list of some of her current obsessions.

1. The Bathroom. Everything in the bathroom. The toilet is number one of course. She sees it as her own personal kiddie pool. Why not put some toys in there and splash around? And then course try flushing those toys down the toilet. Daniela also likes climbing in and out of the bathtub, especially after someone has recently taken a shower, makes it more slippery. And let's not forget the toothbrushes. It's fun to put them all in your mouth and run around the house like that at full speed.

2. The climbing. Some kids walk around holding a teddy bear or blankie, Daniela prefers to drag around a kitchen chair, so she can hoist herself onto any surface too high for her to reach otherwise. We can no longer keep anything on our kitchen table, unless we hide all our chairs (which is incredibly annoying if you ever want to sit down) because Daniela will climb up there and have her way with it. Example, Mateo left a cup of water on the table the other day. As soon as she saw it, Daniela swung herself up there and yelled, "Wazz at?" She then proceeded to pour all the water out of the cup and run her hands through it. "Ohhhh!" she said, obviously pleasantly surprised, as getting wet is one of her favorite things. She then put her whole body into it and glided across the table on her belly like it was a slip and slide.

3. All things electronic. My cell phone. My laptop. The Wii. The DVD player. The DirectTV box. Anything with buttons that other people do not want her touching. She also likes to pull her chair up to ligh switches and turn them on, off, on, off, on, off...

4. The dog's food and water. The water holds the same appeal as the toilet. Splashing, slipping, sliding, getting the outfit I just put her in 5 minutes ago soaked, making as big a mess as possible. Daniela has an extensive wardrobe which she likes to make the best off. Often necesitating 3 or more outfit changes a day so she can show off all her clothing. No wonder I'm constantly doing laundry. And although she regularly refuses to eat her food, she is always up for a fist full of dog food.

5. The garbage can. Daniela loves putting things in the garbage can. So it is always wise now a days to check its contents before putting the bag at the curb. We have found, to mention a few things, toys, utensils, Mateo's shoes, and scariest of all my car key. Daniela also like to take things out of the garbage. Today she found a day old go-gurt that she tried to eat. Almost as tasty as dog food I bet.

Ahhh...and just as Nico is starting to calm down a little. Looks like the light at the end of the tunnel was the headlights of an oncoming train. No more sweet baby. Let's start counting down the days till kindergarten. Isn't that when everyone will calm down? Just agree with me, please. As Jack Nicholson famously said, I "can't handle the truth!"

The New Ride

Yes, at least I have one cool ride. Although the mini-van is very handy for transporting all my tri gear- I mean that's why I bought it right? Had nothing to do with my 3 kids :).

For those of you that know about bikes, you know exactly what I have and what an awesome upgrade it is for me. It is a Trek Madone 5.2. For those of you that don't know about bikes (you know, like me) I'll explain why it is so good. It is around 6-7 lbs ligher than my old aluminum frame one. Riding this bike up a climb reminds me of something Mateo said last summer, "A snail, it doesn't have legs, it just goes.". That's what this bike does. It just goes. It glides. I don't have to work! I just pedal and I'm up the hill. Amazing.

I know there are other awesome components to this bike that I don't understand (If you have questions, you can ask Mark or Glen. I'm sure they would be happy to elaborate). But for now, I'm in awe of its lighness and awesomeness. Bring on the triathlons!

I will leave you with a picture of how my house looked when I came back from one of my rides (photo at the top- can't seen to figure out how to get it to post at the bottom and not worth the effort). That's chocolate pudding all over Daniela's face. And Nico appears to be surfing the internet. Max is very supportive of my cycling, if not the best housekeeper :).

The Crash

"You will crash." I've been total this a couple times since I've started riding. "It is inevitable if you ride a lot. Everyone does it at some point." When I first started riding, I was down right petrified of falling. And seeing as I could barely stop properly or clip in my shoes without toppling over, I had every right to be. However, over the past year, I've gotten more confident and less paranoid about falling. Maybe it doesn't have to happen me...

So this Sunday, we had just finished climbing and Mark was having me pound the flats. Mark and Glen have been my unofficial cycling coaches since I started this mid-life crisis triathlon mania. And can't thank them enough. I've definately come a long way on the bike and Sunday was no exception. I could tell I was riding the best I ever have on that trail.

We were on a the River Mountain Trail Loop, which is a road bike trail, but it also has it's fair share of pedestrians in certain parts. It's not unsafe to get going pretty fast on the trail, as we are unsually the only ones on it. But of course, we always slow way down when we see a pedestrain and call out to let them know we are coming.

So that's how it was. I was going about 30mph and there was not a soul in sight and Mark was right behind me telling me I could catch up with the rest of the group, push a harder gear... Then I see this guy on a skateboard. He's off the trail. I'm not sure what he's doing. Then suddenly he jumps on the trail, not facing me, in my lane of traffic. This is not good. I yell out "On your left!", start to brake, and pass him on the left. Please, just stay where you and everything will be fine. But I'm going really fast, and this guy is oblivious. I could see the ipod headphones in his ears. Then he jumps on his skateboard and slides into the left lane. OH SH*T!!!! I've got nowhere to go. I'm off the trail. I'm in the rocks. He's still moving to the left. I'm going to hit him. BAM! I feel myself slam into him. We're flying through in the air together. I'm gonna hit the ground soon. This is gonna suck. I'm really gonna get hurt. BOOM! Thud. Ugh. I felt my body hit the ground, then my head. I jumped up. And...I was fine. Oh my God. I'm alive. I'm ok. I walked over to the skateboarder who had landed just a few feet away. "Are you ok?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Dude I'm so sorry. Are you ok?"

"Yeah. I'm fine too. Wow, are you sure you're ok? Are you hurting anywhere?" He showed me his hand which had a small cut, and one of his knees was a little scraped up. But other than that, he was indeed fine, and walking around. I apologized that I didn't have any wipes or bandages to help clean up his cuts. I think after this, I'm gonna start carrying some on my bike.

By this time, Mark had gotten over to us. He seemed just about as shocked as we both were. And kept asking over and over again if we were ok. After we established again that we were, miraclously, unharmed. I looked over at my bike. It looked ok. But the handlebars were bent up and one of the shifters had been torn clear off. "Can I ride it back to the car?" I asked Mark.

"Yeah. I think you should be fine. But it's definately a little busted up."

Better the bike than me. So the skateboarder and I parted ways after asking each other one last time if the other was ok and marveling at how incredibly lucky we both were. He started walking back to the neighborhood next to the trail, and Mark and I started riding down the trail back to the car which was only a couple miles away.

"Man, I just can't believe that crash! On a scale of 1-10, that was like an 11. I was scared to go back and see you. I thought you were gonna be torn up. And what the hell was that jackwagon doing riding his skateboard in the middle of the trail with those damn things in his ears? That just pisses me off. "

"It's ok. I'm fine. He's fine. That fact alone is amazing. I'm not mad. I'm just happy to be in one piece. This is the luckiest day of my life, honestly."

"Man! I just can't get over that crash. It was so high speed. You just plowed into him like a football player. You threw him into the air like chair at a picnic. (I had to laugh-what a great simile.) And then you just jumped up like it was nothing. You are tough."

"Yeah, too bad I didn't have a helmet camera on. I could have sold the footage to Jackass. And I'm not tough, just lucky. Very, very, lucky."

And I am lucky. When I got home, all I could find were a bunch of bruises on my right arm and leg. All in all, a miracle. No road rash, no broken bones, still had all my teeth intact. And the skateboarder. He wasn't even wearing a helmet. When I think of all the things that could have happened... Good God, we were fortunate.

So now I've gotten the inevitable crash out of the way. Hey, I've always done things in a big way. Hopefully, that will be my last time. Or at least my last time crashing at 25 mph.

Just One More Hill?

As you all know, I'm going into my 2nd year of doing triathlons. It all started innocently enough. I had just had my last baby and faced the depressig task that all new mother do of losing the baby weight, which for me, unfortunately was quite a lot. Blame what you will, genentics, water retension, eating 4 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches everyday between meals...but the fact remained that I was fat again. So I decided that maybe a little exercise would move things along. So I found an article in a Weight Watchers magazine that outlined a 12 week program to take you from walking to running a 5K. Decided to give it a shot, and then it all snowballed from there.

So here we are a year later. And I'm trying to decide what my athletic goals are for the year. By far, my worst area in triathlon is cycling. Mainly because I have no idea what I'm doing. But I don't like to let minor details like that stop me. As my Uncle Jim always said, "If you don't know the words, just sing louder.". It's kind of a family moto so to speak. Those of you who know me, know that this behavior is indeed genetic. So 2011, cycling it is!

I've been very luck to have Glen's cycling buddies let a clueless beginner like me tag along. They've been exceptionally nice and have not made fun of me too much. One of the guys, Mark, has even started riding with me for parts of the ride and schooling me on various things I probably should know like cadence and gear changing.

Today, we did a 60 mile ride. Let me just tell you that the moral of today's story is that ignorance is bliss because had I know what this ride would entail, I would not never have agreed to such a thing. It started out easy enough with some rolling hills. Then came the climbs. I spun up the 1st two pretty good and was feeling somewhat impressed with myself. Yeah, I'm getting better! But then came more climbs, and more climbs, and more climbs, and...I was getting weary, not to mention pissed off. When exactly was this going to end? Ok. I've had my Rocky moment. Duh, dunt, duuh...Duh, dunt, duuh. Now this road needed to get flat. Becasue I was done with hills.

But apparently the hills were not done with me. In the middle of this torture, Mark notices I'm fading and rides up next to me. "Come on girl, you got this! Big effort. This is the last hill." Really! Really! Okay, okay, yeah right, I got this. So pick up my cadence and do my best to power up it. Only to find...another hill. Grrrr.

Here comes Mark again, " Ok, last one."

"Really? I thought I already did the last one?"

"No, this is it. The last one." What choice do have but to believe him? So I pick up my cadence again and get up the hill. But...you guessed it. It WASN'T the last hill. @#%$!!!!

Now I'm breathing hard and getting mad. I'm giving Mark one word answers as he continues to talk about the infamous "last hill".

"Please stop lying." I say through clenched teeth.

"I'm not lying"

"Yes, you are! You keep saying one more hill and it's not."

"No I didn't. I said one more hill and then a long slow climb."

"Uhuh. And then some more hills after that."

He offered me some encouraging words and then let me finish battling up the hills on my own. Cursing the day I ever decided to try triathlon. The day I decided to focus on cycling. Why did I tell people to push me? I'm challenged enough as it is. This is not a sport for an overweight mom. I should be scapbooking or ordering baby gadgets online or whatever it is normal women my age do.

But then we finally hit the down hill back to the car. And it occurs to me. I just rode 60 miles. I just rode 60 miles! Not bad for an overweight mom of 3. And much cooler than scapbooking (no offense to those of you who scapbook I hear it can be quite the skill to master). Looks like I'll be back out here again. 2011 is, after all, the year of the bike according to my calendar.