Do Not Enter*

*I don't think that you do, but I wouldn't let your kids read this post, I talk about hoo-ha's and junk, and you know, its just not appropriate for children to hear about all that just yet. They will on the school bus, so let's just leave it at that, its better that way then from Kendall, E, and Jake's mom.

So you know those storage closets I was talking about in my last post? MmmmHmmm. The ones where no one but me goes in? Tucked way back in there is my bike. My bike that I think I rode maybe twice before I got knocked up and then the only thing that you see my involved in on paths is pushing a stroller or pulling a wagon.

 It used to be a simple reason as to why I didn't ride it and release it from its habitat surrounded by hanging baskets, a sump pump, and tools. Have you tried riding a bike with a child? A child who's bike has training wheels and is about 3 times smaller than your bike? Yeah, you look like you are learning to ride a bike yourself, because the simple push of a pedal will send you 50 yards ahead and it will take the child 10 minutes to catch up, crying and whining for you to wait up with entire time. So you sway back and forth willing the bike to stay upright as you travel at a speed so slow that falling is seriously inevitable. So I just didn't do it. I can walk faster then they can ride.

Now today my love got the bright idea that he wanted to ride bikes with the kids. Kendall is now just riding on two wheels, on a bigger bike, and so her speed is a little bit greater. I hear the, 'seriously Melissa,' and I know he is somewhere in the house in a closet, just by the tone. Listen, when he can figure out where to keep things, then he can use the tone. So I travel to the basement. He makes it to the bike which has flat tires. He tells me, which I can almost predict, 'I doubt these will even hold air because the bike hasn't been ridden in 12 years.'  Classic exaggeration. It is perpetual and key to our personalities. It's almost like if we exaggerate, our point is that much stronger. In no way is this bike 12 years old. I got it right before I got pregnant with Kendall. Because if I wasn't going to have a baby, I might as well train for something, and I decided I needed a bike to assist with that training for something. So of course the tires held air.

So he rode with the children, came home and said he felt like he was riding on a metal pole. Comfy.

I decide later that I need things from the store and that I am going to ride my bike. It's the green thing to do, it's different, a little fun, exercising. I immediately begin singing, 'I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...BICYCLE, BICYCLE....!!!' If riding a bike was just as wonderful as he makes it sound.

Now I have heard this said before. After childbirth, riding a bike is a little bit more uncomfortable then before. And I never once thought bike riding was all that comfortable to begin with, unless of course I was 12 and riding on a banana seat. But, I get it, the hips have broadened after birthing through the hoo-ha 3 times, leaving a pretty wide gap between the legs, and it ain't like there is any cushioning there, and I already am completely doubly disadvantaged because I have a pancake for a rear end. So it's not like I could lean back a little and take some pressure off the crotch for a few minutes. Really, I have ridden a bike previous to childbirth, it really never was that comfortable of an experience for me, but eventually you numb and you just pedal right along, your crotch just gets used to it.

So I did this, and I expect this. I sit myself down on that bike and begin to pedal. And it hurts. And I think, if I turn around my love is seriously going to make fun of me. And really what is my excuse? Am I going to tell the children Mommy turned around because her hoo-ha hurt? And you do that little lift and resit, a little shift hoping that somewhere if there is padding it settles and you are actually a little comfortable. Nada.

But I keep going. Here is the thought process...I wonder how much I can get on craigslist for this thing. How much are gel seat covers, and would it really work? With the money I make off of it online I could probably get myself a beach cruiser and those seats are for huge butts and they have mammoth padding. I wonder if I took off this sweatshirt and tied it around the seat itself if that would cushion it. I don't think I should stop and give the hoo-ha some rest, it might swell, and then I would never be able to get back on and I would like so stupid walking my bike to the grocery store.

I  ironically catch up to a man on a biking expedition, or so it looks. He's got the packs on both sides of the rear wheel, the basket pack on the back, a back pack. So I focus in on him....Where in the world is he going with all that stuff? Does he know what town he is in? Where is he headed at 3 pm on a Sunday? Maybe he is practicing for some summer trip. I would die having to ride my bike so far. Look he's got those glasses on that have that rear view mirror that sticks out off of them, I would seriously crash into something while attempting to look behind me in that dumb mirror, just turn your head for half a second. (I contemplate waving, sticking out my tongue, just to see if it really works) I wonder if the spandex shorts he is wearing have padding in the butt and crotch. You must walk funny with those in your pants. Why do bikers who are not in races insist upon wearing tight clothes. It's awkward for me to be near a man in spandex. Why do they not feel awkward about that? I wonder if his crotch hurts? I wonder if his junk provides him some sort of padding or if it really just kills. When I get home I am asking Andy if he has to adjust his junk before sitting upon a bike seat. I wonder if this guy shaves his legs. Some men that bike ride do. I mean does the leg hair really hold you back? Really affect your speed or get in the way? (I squint, but can't tell)

With all that distraction, I finally arrive, disembark my chariot of pain, and head into the store.

Immediate swellage. My hoo-ha is throbbing. All I want to do is curl up in a fetal position in the frozen foods department with a pack of peas between my legs. I trudge on, get my supplies, and head back. I just want to speed bike the entire ride home so that I can get the heck off of that thing.

The entire ride home all I am doing is cursing the creators of this bike seat...Who really thought that this was ok to subject riders to? Why did the looks of this seat take priority over its comfort level? Who tried this bike out and said it was wonderful? Are they idiots with super padded crotches. And the thinking is well people will purchase a padded cover for their seats and I say that that is super unfair after paying a couple hundred bucks for a bike, why have to spend more money when they could have just made the seat padded in the first place. Now I feel like I am sitting on a bunch of razor blades. I shut my eyes for a second and imagine myself sitting upon my big turquoise beach cruiser with its comfortable seating that allows you to almost bob along. I have a big white flowered basket upon the front, and my hoo-ha is intact.

I now decide that my hoo-ha is out of commission for at least a month. I am getting white underwear and applying iron ons that say, 'Do Not Enter.' And it hurts to pee. It hurts to sit. Bikes are so stupid.


A Bright Idea

Sometimes I get me an idea. Now I cannot always promise you that these might be novel ideas. Sometimes when I spout out an idea I do get a strange look in response, or that raised eyebrow, or a flat out lie that it is a great idea, but you see that person is never around past the blurting out of the idea to see it into fruition with me. Sometimes I even hate my own ideas once I start doing them, and I am completely honest with myself, a very blunt person, if you didn't gather that already. And you see I get me an idea like cleaning out the basement storage closets on a random day. But let's be honest,  I mean who really cares? Who is going in there besides me? Clearly, what is in there you do not really need or it would be out. But here I am and it is 7 months from Christmas and I am in no need of a string of lights and I am surrounded by Tupperware crates, furniture, garland, and soccer trophies that coat the floor and reach to the ceiling of the basement. Kids digging through things like they are long lost treasures, almost suffocating themselves in clothes that we hold on to even though they don't fit anyone anymore. And then there is a meltdown, someone got their head stuck in a ski boot and the another one as got himself stuck in the sleeping bag zipper. I take one look around decide what I might need next in the order of things and I shove it all back in, leaving the things that I need next, until last, and do the hip bang until the door finally latches.

Clearly a bad idea. There is no such thing as an organized anything when you have 3 small children to take care of. And that is just the way it is, you all can just get right over it if you think that is a poor excuse. Come on over, I dare you to accomplish anything other then what is necessary and get it down with efficiency and with all 3 sets of eyes dry and smiling.

Oh but there are some ideas that I think are some good ones and they usually involve a party. I have been thinking about this particular party for awhile now and next year I am going to go ahead and do it. It got its test run at Jake's Birthday Party to see how many people would actually find some enjoyment in it, and there were many. It's time to raise the stakes.

You see I love big hats. I love mint juleps and I love big hats. I think it is time. And I thank the Duke of Sasquatchington for being born right around a time when these two things are in prime season for we can disguise it as a Birthday Party also. Nope, not an Easter Egg Hunt, we did that, and that was fun also, will have to do that one again, but it isn't that.

A Kentucky Derby Party.
Now another blog I follow, Nie Nie, she does one. I read about her preparing for this and a party of this nature was already on my to do list, I just wasn't quite sure of all the logistics. She got it down, and certainly inspired me.

I don't even know one darn thing about horse racing. I know that for whatever reason my heart has a race of its own when I watch one. It's the anxiety surrounding it, and I am filled with that, so anything that provides me with a trigger, look out heart. I know that I like to look at the jockeys and smile at just how tiny they are and I get filled with some ridiculous pride about just how fortunate they are, that their size is something positive in the horse racing world. I am sure they are just thrilled with me about that. I enjoy a horses name and enjoy that they quite typically have a racing name and a normal name for around the ranch. Like when they enter the track their alter ego is released. I think track athletes should also maybe have this option.

And you know sometimes my darling husband calls me out for being random and worrying or wondering about the most bizarre things. Like for example any sport contest in general. Who in the world decided that it might be fun to get about 20 people on a field with a ball and two nets, have them race around, not being able to touch the ball with the hands, and to win you have to get the ball in the other teams net more then they in yours? And who decided that this might be something that we really need to take seriously? And who decided that we should pay people millions of dollars because they can hit a ball far with a bat? And who thought of 'off sides,' and what is that anyway? It's so annoying. And horse racing? What is the point, right?

And recently I was listening to a stand up recording of Jerry Seinfeld's in the good old van, and I was completely justified. I am not the only one out there who thinks of these random thoughts and questions things. Jerry has a lot more then even I. Here is his take on horse racing:


But I love me a good time. I love to think of ways for people to have a good time. I mean if it takes having fun around something I don't really even understand, that's completely ok. So at Jake's party, since the Derby was on this day, as a little side show I invited everyone to bring themselves some gambling money, do a little research on a horse, and participate to win big and take their mama out to breakfast the next day. We listed the horses and kept up with their changing odds. Each bet would cost you $2 because we are high rollers like that, and you were only permitted to bet 3 times. I don't know why, something about logistics and if you put in $2 on every horse you would win on some level. I really don't know, I just nodded in agreement. And it went over well, horses were picked, some by just the name, some with deep thought and strategy.

Kendall picked Derby Kitten because well kitten was in the name.
I picked Soldat because I read somewhere that the track was going to be muddy and this horse ran well in these conditions.
Ethan picked Animal Kingdom, again for the name, biggest odds, no one was picking this as a winner out there in horse racing land, except for at this party because apparently Emma also like the name and threw in her $2.
My Grandfather picked Pants on Fire, a top pick, with a top rated female jockey, and apparently that is not common.
Amy picked Twinspired because she has twins.
And it went on and on.

The race came and people gathered around the televisions, we hooted, we hollered, we couldn't hear the announcers and had no idea who had won until a few minutes after the race had ended because of all the shouting but we still shouted anyway because someone won and shouting is fun. Who was that horse that popped out of the pack, moved to the right, passed all those galloping divas, and slid right into the lead? That's right, it was Animal Kingdom. Emma and Ethan split that pot. Those that bet on this horse were big winners. I love me an underdog story.

And as I looked around, still again, obsessed with the royal wedding, I thought of one thing. Hats. The hats were missing. I want me a giant hat.

So that's, that. Next year we are having a Derby Party, and you will have to bring your $2 a horse, and ladies, you will have to come donning a hat. I don't care one bit where you get the hat. Mine will be from the Salval, and I will be decorating it on my own. You have a year to think about it. I have a year to find a mint julep recipe.

The best part of the entire race was my grandmother's rage about children winning the pot. 'Now what will they do with that money? They only picked the horse because they liked the name.' Oh I'm sorry I forgot that she mastered in horse racing and had ins with all the ranch hands. I will let you know that this same woman picked her horse by shouting out a random number, but you know, the shouting, its strategic to horse racing. I love my grandmother. If you ever wonder why I become highly passionate about the injustice of such random things, like children betting $2 on a horse race at a child's birthday party, wonder no more.

I got me some Mother's Day breakfast from the little pot winner, and he had some extra to pick out some guys from Target. All because of saying...'hmmm, I like animals, a kingdom of animals would be awesome...I pick Animal Kingdom.'

So who's in?


The Nugget is One.

The Duke of Sasquatchington turned one yesterday. I am still a little obsessed with the Royal Wedding, but I do think the name fits him quite well...and yes of course I loved Kate's dress, who wouldn't? And I do have alot to say in regards to the wedding, but the Duke's birthday takes some major precedence, and this queen mum is quite proud.

I tell you someone must have pushed the fast forward button. I think the more children you have, the faster time goes. I say it all the time, I know. You are like, 'shut up already, kids grow, its what they do, get over it!' And I get it, the busier you are, the faster the time goes, you are too side tracked to notice the calendar. I understand the reality of the situation. Before I know it I will be wearing Depends yelling at Andy to turn up his hearing aid and put in his dentures because the great grand kids are coming to visit.  So just let me have my pity party, alright?

So yesterday was a day of nothingness and somethingness all in one. See it's hard to celebrate one, unless of course you have the One Year Old Birthday Bash on the actual day the child's birthday. And having a party on a Wednesday in the beginning of May for 50+ of his most adoring fans can get a little hairy. The actual party then is Saturday. A mexican fiesta if you will, for the nugget who turned uno this week. So we celebrated Jake's birthday for Kendall and E today. We decorated, we had his 'favorite' meal, we sang to him, and we let him do what he wanted to do all day. This consisted of knocking down castles, eating crayons, dumping pet food bowls after others have done said chore. It was a little overwhelming for the siblings, we hit the top of the patience meter all day long, but it was for only a day, and it is his day, and you just have to deal with him climbing up your barbie house, just pretend he is Godzilla.

But of course turning one was something for me.
 I snuggle up in his little chunkiness and breathe him in as he sleeps, since that is the only time he is still. The debate rages on as to if this is my last little baklava, and so having him come out of this baby stage is a little overwhelming for me. I still swaddle him all up in a blanket and rock him to sleep. Yes, if he is my last, I will be also doing this at the age of 10. Why do you even bother wondering?

I mean look at him all scrunched up in that baby seat that lasted all of 4 months until he grew out of it. I miss size 1 diaper bulges. And not that I am craving another body invasion at this moment, please don't mistake what I am saying. I just want him to stay little for a couple more minutes.

Isn't it funny that as we grow we still look the same when we sleep as when we were a baby? I mean Jake doesn't sleep in this jacked up position, but the face is the same. I never realized this until I watched my kids sleep, and I thought I might share this important piece of information with you.

He now sleeps through the night.
He eats what we eat.
He is now beginning to take those first steps, preferring to side step then forward march. You know, whatever gets the job done.

I love when they are learning to walk. It's similar to the first time you are on roller skates. Everything becomes your stabilizer, your balance. The wall, the car, the chair, the dog, your brother, a tree, you get the idea.

His favorite thing to play with is balls. He just found his own personal set and thinks they are just about the most fascinating thing, typical to most males. However, he is obsessed with all actual balls that are not of the human anatomy as well. And surprisingly, he gets it. It's a little bizarre. He knows where to shoot a basketball. He can play a mad game of catch. And he can bounce and catch until the cows come home, if we had cows that were going to come home.

His most favorite things are his animals, and Lillian actually tolerates him, when she swats at him he still goes in for the lovin'. He's winning her over. And he adores his brother and sister. Each time he sees them its as if they have been away for days. The excitement is completely lost on them because it just doesn't make sense to them, but he doesn't even notice. Personally, I think it's awesome to be rendered as someones most favorite person, and this is what he thinks of them. I remind them of this frequently...and Kendall gives me that look that says, 'seriously, all I did was go to take a leak and was gone maybe 2 minutes.'

He is a lover and a goof.
He is at the stage right now where he is noticing social nuances and when we laugh he mimics it, when Kendall or E cry he loves on them and pats their back, and when he does something worthy of praise, he is the first one to give himself a standing ovation encouraging everyone to do the same.

He is my joy.
His smile so sweet.
I could sit and twirl my fingers in his strawberry blond curls all day.
He is happy and it is infectious. I feel as though life is going to be awesome through his eyes.
His cheeks are munchable.
His kisses, slobber filled.
He is mine.

Nugget we love you so.
Happy 1st Birthday.
It's the 1st of many and despite my heart breaking over the entire aging process, we can't wait to spend them all with you.

If you missed it and just want to read the play by play on Jake's Birth click:
here and then here. Why yes there is two parts, have you had a baby?
I blogged a lot about my pregnancy with him through 2009 and 2010 if you feel the need to dig into my past.