10 layers of magic - salad

This, my friends, is not a blog where you will find a ton of recipes. It should, however, be noted that from time to time I feel like I need to share awesomeness. And this, is way overdue. My mom (aka Nana Lu) makes this salad. It's not for those watching their waist line, unless you are watching it go out. That said, it is the best.thing.ever. I eat it for breakfast, lunch & dinner. And as salads go, this one gets better with age. You'd think to yourself, self - but the lettuce will get wilted. The bacon won't crunch. And I'd say to you... whatever. It's the best. In our family, we fight over left overs and if someone goes to the fridge to dole out another serving I will hover over them to make sure they are only taking their share. And I don't say "fair share" because it's not fair I have to share it. Before we moved, my mom would make it for special occasions or parties. And honestly? It irritated me because then I'd really have to share it.

There are a ton of varieties on the world wide web, when you google "10 layer salad" - but none are like this. And even when I try to make it, I could never do it justice. I don't even try. It's really a summer recipe. It's really for BBQs and pot lucks. It's not for the every day. That said, since we live so far we get to have it any time we come to visit. It's worth it's weight (no seriously, it's heavy) and it's absolutely worth the cost of any flight ticket home.

It's super pretty in it's bowl, but honestly I didn't take a
picture because I needed to eat it. Immediately.

Here is how you (can try to) do it. If you really want to win, you'll put all of these ingredients in a clear glass bowl, cause it's pretty. With each layers you have to physically put your back into packing all the ingredients in, with the exception of #4, cause that would be messy. 

1. Shredded ice berg lettuce 
2. Carrots (personal preference julienned) 
3. Frozen peas - don't defrost
4. 25-30 oz of mayonnaise & 2-3 teaspoons of sugar (on top of mayo)
   
   Cover with tin foil, overnight and refrigerate.
   
   
5. The next morning or a few hours, but I'd go with overnight, cause that's how she does it: 1 lb of bacon, crumbled
6. A dozen hard boiled eggs, sliced
7. Cucumbers, sliced
8. Chick peas
9. Olives, she keeps the whole. She once did it with low sodium olives. Don't do that. Seriously, if you are watching any intake (salt, fat, cholesterol) - don't bother with this salad. Don't ruin it with health in mind. Yes. I'm seriously still writing about this. I mean it, don't skimp on the calories, etc.
10. Cherry tomatoes (if you cut them, you'll cut down on the number of left over days you have)
11. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese
12. Love, spread throughout 

Me: "It's 13 layers, if you separate the sugar & mayo, don't forget the love."
Nana Lu: "Well, I did at the chichi beans." (chickpeas)

When it comes to serving this salad, you kind of cut into it like a delicious cake. You want to get all the layers. Do not, however, mix it once you have space to do so. You want to keep everything in it's place until it's getting ready to get in your pie hole.

Now go get your delicious on. You won't regret it.

An open letter to our friends & family out East: Blown out of proportion

Dear You,

I get it. Tornadoes are scary. If you think tornado warnings or watches are scary you should experience a thunder storm here. It's like nothing you have ever experienced. It is intense. It's crazy town. What one person experiences in my neighborhood, 5 minutes down the road will experience differently. And then? In an instant it's quiet. Like creepy, eye of the storm quiet. The skies light up, the earth shakes with thunder. My grown husband will wake up in the middle of the night and honestly ask the question, "Should we get the kids?"

Not kids crawling in our bed, scared. Reasonable. A grown man, wanting to crawl into bed with the children.

It's wild.

Why are tornado warnings or watches not quite as scary? Because tornadoes are not actually happening in the immediate area when you get a warning or a watch.

When you see "tornado watch" on the TV - don't bother worrying. Why? Because STL should be on a constant tornado watch status. Why? Because all it actually means when it is issued is the weather conditions are favorable for severe thunderstorms to produce tornadoes in and close to the watch area.  Every time it storms here, that's going to happen, it turns out. Welcome to Tornado Alley. It can (and does) happen here. That's why they named it an alley. Frankly, it should have been "Tornado Main Street" but whatever; semantics.

A tornado warning is when an alert issued by government weather services to warn that severe thunderstorms capable of spawning tornadoes may be imminent. It is likely a tornado is indicated by radar or sighted by storm spotters. Still, not a for sure, but more likely. If you are going to worry - I'd say this would be the only time to slightly concerned. And even not all that much.

Some facts to be aware of:

• St. Louis, the county, which is what is named in weather alerts is 524 square miles.
• St. Louis (city) is actually 66.2 square miles. 
• Where we actually live is in a suburb within St. Louis city which is 5.9 square miles.
• St. Louis (county) will be in almost every tornado watch or warning that you see, because now that we are here that's all you'll see. 
• Tornadoes come here. They will come through our town and may very likely hit our neighborhood or even our house. 
• We are prepared, we are no heroes - when we hear an alarm we will go to our designated bunker and be OK.
• When a tornado rips through another state or another city that is not St. Louis - I have no idea what the tornado was like because we didn't have one. We live in 5.9 area of a 524 square mile area that didn't get hit by a tornado.

Seriously - when there is wild weather 10+ hours away from you? DO I call panicked?  Do I sit and stew and wonder - will you make it? Absolutely not. You are 10 hours away.
 
Pull it together. Calm yourself. You have your own health & well being to care about instead of putting yourself into a tizzy about us - hundreds of miles away from natural disasters and prepared for the inevitable.

Love,
The Twisted Guarros of Tornado Alley

Trifecta Part II

Almost 4 years ago we had our first trifecta dinner party, it was fun. If you like dogs pooping in the corner.  No seriously, the people made it fun. Just like Trifecta Part Duex.

The scene: we're at a friends house. A glorious new condominium that the likes of Pinterest was created for.  After a long weekend full of 16 hour work days and a long day at the office, it was a highlight of our stay in Boston.  I'm not quite sure if by the end of the evening it was the highlight of their weekend.

To review, the characters include:

• The ball & chain - the husband.
• Yours truly - me.
• The kid - 4 year old, on the move and in vacation mode 3 days and counting at the point of the story. 
• The baby - 7 months old and unpredictable as the day is long. 
• Jez - a friend with whom despite having many differences with, you would be surprised at the amount of things we say, think, or even choose to wear on any given day that is identical. Sometimes on purpose, so what we have the same duvet cover, most times by accident. 
• Chris #6 - Jez' husband and the 6th Chris in our life. When in doubt, if you want to know what some one's name is, it's likely Chris.

Opening act:
In observing all that goes into the baby stage, especially when it comes to feeding the little bugger Chris #6 asked a puzzling question: "At what point can you sit down and eat dinner together?" The ball & chain answered confidently, "We eat dinner together every night, just about."  However that really wasn't the question.  He clarified, "When do get to use both hands?"  We laughed. I don't think it was a joke. We answered something to the effect of:"Well. L is 4 years old and we're still waiting."

The Trifecta:
We show up and JJ starts spitting up (aka vomiting) all over their glorious new bamboo floors. Note to self: bamboo sure does clean up nice and easy. That's count 1 for the trifecta. Fast forward, there is eating, drinking, and being merry. We had sous vide pork, as you do when you dine with a fancy pants chef in disguise. You didn't know what that is either, do you? About 20 minutes into the meal, the kid excuses herself. She heads to the bathroom which is dangerously close to the meal. I don't worry, but I do notice how close it is when we hear her murmur, "Wow. That bread sure is spicy."

The bread was not spicy.

We all laugh and when I ask if she needs help (parent lingo for, "Are you going to poop?") she declines and announces she just has to pee. That's 2 in the count to trifecta.

5 minutes later she gets up from the table, again, and goes to the bathroom. Someone makes a joke about the "spicy bread" and I silently hope for the best. As the adults giggle our way through dinner, the kid can hear us commenting on the effects of spicy bread and she wants to set the record straight. Despite her being able to just tell it like it is, she screams it - to make sure no one is confused.

"I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!"

You'd think that's 3 in the count to trifecta, but it's not. Let's call it 2.5.

On an aside? While I could have gone without the screaming like a lunatic about her flatulence, it was a proud mama moment. For years we've been telling her, rather than letting it rip at the dinner table (or any table, hall, or room for that matter), excuse yourself to the bathroom. She did it! Proud. Mama. Moment. You know who wasn't as proud? Chris #6. Homeboy was starting to loose the color in his cheeks, and I don't think it was the spicy bread.

P.S. The bread? It totally wasn't spicy.

So, post "I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!" we settle down and the adults continue to eat.  A few minutes later and home girl leaves the table, again, to make her way to the bathroom. Again. Let the spicy bread jokes ensue.

But then shit got real.

Literally.

"Um. I need some help. Daddy! I pooped on my leg."

That. Happened.

Chris #6 goes ghost white and I'm pretty sure his desire to procreate left the building. The ball & chain goes and helps the kid out and since we apparently have a mic in the bathroom, we could hear the whole thing.

The kid, "I just kept going to the bathroom. I wanted to look. I was curious."

Apparently the spicy bread got her, so when she went to go and look - well, she got poop on her leg. As you do. To make matters worse (because it had to get worse), she got nervous and she pulled up her pants. Awesome.

"Luckily" we were traveling with a year's worth of clothing, so the costume change was painless. The look on Chris #6's face? Not so much. 

Closing act:
We're going to San Diego in a few months. We told L all about the San Diego zoo and all the animals we'll see. We're pumped. Jez & Chris #6 just got back from Australia. L was looking through their pictures. She came up on Kola bears, as you do. Her natural and no nonsense response? "Oh you went to the San Diego zoo, too? That's nice."

So yea, we're going to Australia aka, the San Diego zoo soon - and God willing? There will be no pooping on any legs. A girl can dream. 
Forward:
The next day Jez left me a voice mail. L loved it.

"Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg." 

The only issue? Since this was a favorite story to tell from place to place on our journey, L loves to tell it. It gets a big laugh. Slight issue though, she doesn't introduce the concept or set up the story.  So her version? It goes like this:

"And then Mama's friend Jez left a message. It was so funny. OK I'll tell you. 'Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg!!!' And then I was in the bathroom and I said: 'I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!'" 

We are going to work on the story telling. It can only go up from here.

Put to the Test

We are looking for a new car. You know what isn't fun? Looking for a new car. It's needed though, maybe you don't know. I am driving a completely inappropriate car for a mom of two. Let's be honest here; it was likely inappropriate for me to be driving it when I was a mom of one. While I love my Volkswagen Carbio it's time to get serious.

I've said from the beginning: I don't care about the color or make.  All I wanted was a third row and low car payments. We rounded out the decisions between a few vehicles and ended up going with a Toyota Highlander. It's glorious, but the road to the glory was interesting.

Long story short, we were going for the lowest monthly payment. My husband & 4 year old did a first round. One afternoon they went out, talked with people, got quotes and test drove vehicles. It wouldn't be a surprise, if you know the kid - she loved the process. Candy at every turn, fancy new rides, riding in a booster seat? You could have told her she was at Disney and she would have believed you. What did I like? They came home with a car payment under what we wanted to pay. I mean, other than free. 

Fast forward a few weeks later when we are ready to sign on the dotted line, it turns out the deal he researched was the basic model. It comes with a steering wheel and four wheels and it turns out they don't actually make that car much.

Ah marketing ploy how I hate thee. 

Just as we are about to walk out, they do a search. And they found one. One vehicle that would give us the lowest car payment. Oh, but don't forget about the taxes so it really isn't as inexpensive as you think it's going to be.

Ah marketing ploy how I hate thee. 

"But before we move forward let's take a look at the color..."

He proceeds to talk about the color, calling it maroon. I ask if it's red. He makes a face and says, "Ummm. Let's go take a look at another car in the same color."

We go out to the car lot and start walking toward a car that can only be described as purple. He tries to tell me in some lights you wouldn't be able to tell, to which my only response can be, "Sure, in the dark." As he continues to try to sell me on the Barney mobile I try to explain that he might as well be showing me an orange car. He tries to tell me it's more of a 'wine' color to which I respond, "Sure, purple wine."   There is a back and forth. I make clever wise cracks, he doesn't get me. Rinse & repeat.

 

At the end of the day, it went a little like this:  "I did say that I didn't care about the color.  This is putting me to the test. You can say whatever you like about this car, in which light it would look like what.  The bottom line is I will always know, in my heart of hearts, that I am driving a purple car."

Not only was it a purple, as if that wasn't bad enough, it had cream white interior.  You would think they would be paying ME to drive that bad boy. You'd think wrong.  

I was put to the test.  Guess what the score was?

We didn't get the purple powered truck.

Family, you can go ahead and skip this one.

Remember when I said my husband was 12 years old? 

Perhaps I should have waited to hand down that judgement.

Just when I thought Elf on the Shelf couldn't get any more fun? I am proven wrong. Who knew the elf would be so much fun? 

Now if I could only remember to move him nightly.

There's a contest that you just HAVE to check out.  "Inappropriate Elf Contest" - and it's filled with some seriously F'd up elves that just make me GIGGLE. People come up with some hilarious stuff.  When I originally heard about it I thought - I have the PERFECT IDEA. I cracked up over them for awhile. I won't lie.  Now, even though I'm sharing them, I know I might be the only one laughing.



Then I started to see the entries roll in and I saw that I had clearly misunderstood the intent.  I don't know, I think a little chat with the Peacock, Nutcracker & Alesssandro is hilarious if you see it the way I do.

"Mrs. Claus is such a tease."

Alessandro & his blue bells. 

Come on. Let the inner 12 year old in you giggle.

Have you checked out the contest? Go do that. I mean if it were a double entendre or euphemism contest, I'd be in.    

Time out: both words sound dirty just to say them. Is it just me?  I'll double entendre your euphemism. That's what she said. (See beginning. I'm 12. Also, if we needed to call a TOD (time of death) of my father-in-law "getting me" I believe we can all agree, right about now. I call 'em like I see 'em.)

Time in:
Since it seems when Jill over at Baby Rabies said "Inappropriate Elf" she actually meant inappropriate "ELF" not "Inappropriate Elf Poser" I won't be holding my breath on the win. Hell, I'm a joiner and I just can't help it. I'm a sucker for some captioned photos. 

I present you with my slutty Alessandro. 

Save a Reindeer. Ride a Santa.

 

I don't expect to win. Dude, there is a the original creep stalker elf, Elf on the Shelf meets a Silence of the Lambs captivity scene,  * in a box and a freaking Dexter elf for God's sake.

Sidenote: Perhaps I was just flat lining before. Right NOW is the TOD of my father-in-law getting me.

I'm just a girl who likes to take pictures of my kid's footless doll. Also, I'm a girl who right now wishes family didn't read this blog because I'm talking blue bells and riding deer.  Never mind not 'getting me' - there are more out there that if they didn't think I was strange before? Let's just say - mission accomplished. 

Inspired to Do, Make & Create

Listen up: I'm not a crafty person. I can't draw a straight line with the assistance of a ruler. I am not kidding. I've been feeling especially inspired with the help of Pinterest.

(Time out: Family - if you come here for the pictures, quotes, videos and sit through my snark? This is not for you. I'm about to geek out - come back tomorrow or the next day - I'll post a picture or something.)

What in the world is Pinterest? 

You know when you find something online and you're like, "OOH... (and the next statement is something to the effect of any of the following) I want to save this somewhere. I want to do this. I want to buy something like this. This is good to know. What a great idea. That's fun. That's funny. I love this.  Hilarious. Thoughtful. Inspiring." I used to send myself an email, save the link as a favorite or make it a bookmark.  Well... you can do those things still - but for things that you want to visually see together?  Pinterest.

It's a vision board that people use for all kinds of things. Inspiration, funny quotes, decorating, gift ideas, crafts/DIY projects to do, holiday fun, ideas for photos, meal planning, styling, etc etc. It's really what you make of it. You find that thing online that starts you saying, "Ohhh." and you... PIN it.

Me: I have different boards for different subjects (you categorize your pins on boards). I use it to keep track of things I want to do, try and remember.  I have holiday boards for things to do during the holidays, or costume ideas for Halloween as well as gifts I want to give, get or funny quotes I like. The list keeps shifting.

Yes folks, another thing to spend time doing online. Too much time is can be wasted. It was fun when I was decorating the new house.  I could keep track of how much stuff cost as I weighed each product against each other. I read a blog that I think totally explains it - if you want to know the how to and why to. I imagine you can just sign up for an account, but if you need an invite - let me know.  Suzanne over at Behbehblog breaks it down with an easy "how to." If you know me at all, you know I love me some instructions and screen shots. Most people are super overwhelmed to start... and then? They get addicted. Pinterest is the new FB crack - remember the first time? Same thing. You get sucked in.  And then the next thing you know - you are writing paragraphs about something only 1/2 of the intended audience is reading, if that.

Here's my point. 

Martha Stewart can relax - I'm not coming for her job but I AM
doing something with her website.  Like the pin that inspired this
staircase and this face.

Something amazing happened recently. Not only did Pinterest help in the decorating of our new home - but it is inspiring CRAFTS & CREATIVITY up in here.  It started with a favor idea for the kid's birthday, that spilled into Halloween because the kid has a new found love for creepy and now I'm a Princess skirt (tutu) deep into half of a 100% homemade costume and ready for more.Pinterest provides ideas, inspiration, fun and a total time suck.  The only way to make good on that time suckage? Do something! And something I have done. 

It's been 2 weeks and with every little project I feel accomplished.  In the time it took me to start this post and publish it, I'm another 2 projects deep. One completed salt dispenser from a mason jar WHAT? (Note to self: Pinterest loves herself some mason jars) and craft supply jars.  Sure, if you click through you'll find that all I did was print out labels, print google images, tie knots and cut templates - but dang they are festive.

completed (sucka easy) "projects"

March to the Beat: Homegirl's First Parade

You know when you see things on television and you think, "Does this just happen in a sitcom or a movie?"

That's what I think about when I hear about neighborhood parades. Truly. It's not the ONLY thing I see and say that ... but it's one of those things I didn't know really existed.  They do and as curious as they are, I love them.

Who.Am.I?

We participated in a neighborhood parade on July 4th - where people wore plaid, it was B.Y.O.I. (bring your own instrument) and we marched IN the parade behind a man and a slide whistle.

A.Slide.Whistle.

I freaking LOVE this place.  It was amazing. I wore black; of course so one might say I'm fitting RIGHT in over here.

Me & Charlie Sheen

Lose respect for me, if you like - but the whole Charlie Sheen thing fascinated me. Is it sad? Absolutely. Is it a tragedy that someone has to fall this far down the addiction hole? Absolutely. Am I going to park out in front of his house and watch the show? No. That said, if he is going to put his crazy out there, I will tune in from time to time for a release of my own reality to check in with his delusion. Like I said, lose respect if you will - but don't hate me for my honesty.

Also, it's not my fault - it might be genetic.

Time out on this... walk with me. I promise we'll get somewhere. I'm not actually about to go down a nonsensical road alla truth torpedo Sheen style.

This here blog was started to keep people posted so they could stop asking "how do you feel" when I was preggo with the kid.  It was the lazy(wo)man's mass email.  It's starting to merge into something else. There is some stranger danger here, I may not know you are reading.  Sometimes people think I'm funny.  Sometimes I think I'm funny.  It's a way for me to deal with, document, get through and celebrate what happens everyday.  Sometimes, I keep the family in the know, sometimes with things I'm sure they'd rather not know about.

My mom (Nana Lu) is a big time stalker. Hey, Mom!  Besides this here space on the world wide web, she keeps an eye on me on the twitter & 'book of face. She's started to comment on Facebook posts, but that took awhile. For awhile it was just text messages. She has yet to comment on this here blog, but has commented on another blog as she took it upon herself to heckle sour grapes style when we didn't win a contest we entered. Awesome (sarcastic font).

Note to self, random person - if you are watching and thinking about starting a blog, think about not using it to keep your family in the know.

Why would I say that? I believe in interaction. Instead? I have people checking in, not telling me they are there.  You, reading this. I don't really know you are there. Then there is the book of Face, which is I worry about. Am I sharing too much? Lord knows I have people on there that I want to hide. Between sleep schedules, meaningful quotes or passive aggressive status updates that leave me wondering - I know people who share too much. I think a lot about the book for some reason, it's more personally tied whereas twitter is more general for me.  It's probably where I am most real, quite honestly, with some semblance of anonymity. Well. Except for the fact that there is my mom. Opening a twitter account. JUST to watch me. Just to see what I update.  It's weird.

It was weird, until it just got weirder. And by weirder, I mean hilarious.

Time in. Back to my thoughts on Mr. Charlie Sheen. Just when I thought I was the only one I find out that I can use me and Charlie Sheen in the same sentence.

My mom only follows two people on twitter, me and Charlie Sheen. 

Princess Diaries

I don't dress up. I despise dressing up. If I could live in flip flops and jeans, I would. I try to make that reality as much as possible. I wore flip flops on our wedding day, I'm committed.

(those are in fact white reefs - my F.O.C.*)

Don't judge. As I told my mom who had a slight temper tantrum about these... Jesus wore sandals; I'm sure He doesn't mind me wearing the same at His house. I'd want people to be comfortable in my house. 

I know HOW to dress up (barely). I can throw on a suit for work, or a dress when needed. I often times need some help with shoe pairings (see addiction to flatware / flip flops). And I NEVER look cute like I could walk out of a magazine, but 8 times of 10, I'm at least 'passable.'

 

I understand those that say "dress for the part you want, not the part you have" or "Clothes make the man" (or woman, as the case may be).  I believe it. I respect it. I just don't believe that's the way it SHOULD be. That's just me and I'm happy in my minority.  I believe there is much discrepancy with these kinds of rules and while appearance can be important when you are a donkey behind your tailored look - I just don't get why you would be more respected than the helpless girl / guy behind the more natural / rugged look. That's just me. 

I wasn't going to go in the way of clothing tirade. I guess the point is - I hate dressing up. You know who doesn't? 

My alleged offspring. As if the blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin and super tall statue wasn't enough to set us apart - she loves to dress up.  Seriously loves it and gets upset if she can't. 

Example: Over the course of the last few weeks, we have been ENCOURAGING comfy days when we are home - be it holidays, snow days or weekends. We would let her stay in pajamas all day if we weren't planning on going out. She will NOT have this. Over the holidays, she pitched such a fit to change - so we laid out leggings and a long sleeve. She panicked!  She freaked out until we got out tights, fancy shoes and a ruffle dress with pearls on it.

She requests dresses every morning, the more sparkles, the better.  At this point, we've figured out how to work in long sleeve shirts under SHORT sleeve dresses, because they have sparkles and that makes her world go 'round. We do not have a picky eater. We do not have a non-sleeper. I guess instead we were given a fashion snob. Could be worse.

She also KNOWS what goes and what does not. She had "clashing wacky tacky day" or something like that at school.  Knowing how finicky she is with what she will wear, the ball & chain kept her busy while he got her changed. When he was done, here was the final product and her response. A true quote.

I have forever dealt with fashion issues... and I birth a true fashionista. I am totally screwed. If you are what you wear, my kid wants to be a Princess. Awesome.

*F.O.C. = Flop OF Choice or Flip Flop of Choice

Rudolph is a (Dirty) Chip off the Ol'Block

I'm a HUGE stats dork. Excel? It's my dirty little secret. That bastard can make me happy no matter what kind of mood I'm in.
In the same vein, I LOVE finding out stats, numbers, visitors, who stays, who goes, how you find this little space online. 


I started paying attention when I realized how many smokers out there are attacked to this space... bizzaro world. Now? Now Rudolph has brought you here, perhaps. Here's my question though - why is Rudolph considered dirty? A weenie, fine. Perhaps a loner. Dirty? I don't buy it.

snap shot of some search keywords

Rudolph's dad a jerk - check. I believe. I BELIEVE. But fault the little guy for being dirty? Can't we just leave that B alone?

Where Princesses Live

Daddy: "How was school today, L?"
L: "GOOD!"
Daddy: "Who did you play with?"
L: "I dunno."
Daddy: "Was Ellie in school?"
L: "Yup!"
Daddy: "What about Eitan?"
L: "Yup."
Daddy: "What about (insert all the kids name in her class)?"
L: "Yup."
Daddy: "What about Buzz Lightyear?"
L: "NOOO! He lives in Toy Story!!!!"
Daddy: "What about Jessie?"
L: "Which Jessie?" (She does have a little girl named Jessica in her class.)

Daddy: "You know, with Bullseye?"
L: "NOOO! I told you, they live in TOY STORY!"
Daddy: "What about Cinderella, was she at school today?"
L: "NOO, Daddy! Cinderella lives in the Cinderella castle. And in my underwears!"

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year to Be Scarred for Life

Dear L, 

Remember when you were unfazed by the horrifying nature of the crazy man in red? Maybe his belly made you think of your mama? Who knows, but year one you were calm, girl.  Those. Were. The. Days. 

"What's all the hubbub about?"

Last year, we went to the same Santa. You would have thought we were throwing you down the highway to hell. Sure we took a year off, in-between the seemingly enjoyable experience, maybe you didn't remember you had a chill time the last time? Last year, what a different reaction. Sure, I am a horrible parent for allowing Santa to pin you down as I laughed (and cried) on the sidelines to capture the shot. I think I was trying to prove a point to Nana Lu, who insisted on these dang pictures. This is what she got for pressing the Santa issue.  This is what I get for giving my mother a hard time. Side note: don't do this to your mother, ever.

 "Get me OUTTA HERE!"

This year. OH this year.  I thought it would be different. You've been wanting to see the big guy for weeks. You were ready to sit on his lap and tell him all of your hopes and dreams (that we carefully placed in your head as parents we are licensed to do).  It was going to be magical, to watch the magic (not horror) in your eyes. Despite a rough night out on Saturday, Mama & Daddy pulled ourselves together with one mission for Sunday: see Santa.   

We waited on an (almost) 2 hour line to wait for the same Santa that you had been with for the last two years; he's legit. As soon as we got there, we realized either Santa got a serious surgery to shrink himself by 35 elves or a totally different guy altogether. You waved to Santa, you didn't notice.  You had a great time on the ridiculously long line.  It didn't hurt that the adult to you ratio was 4:1.  Nana Lu & MyUncleChris came and entertained you for the 2 hour line, but all was looking up. You wanted to review all the things you were going to ask for, you were READY. As the line twisted and turned around the mall all was well. There were smiles, laughs, giggles, dancing; it was holiday time magical.  We turned the corner and it was your turn to talk to Santa.  As we turned that magical corner, we entered the vortex of Christmas year's past. Last year to be exact. 

You held on to me as if I was about to jump out of a plane. I could barely pull you off of me to throw you on the Southern Belle of a Santa before us - but pull you off and throw you I did. If faced with a choice - I would take a warm & fuzzy picture showing you having the time of your life.  Mama didn't have that choice. My choices were limited. 

My choices, as I saw them were as follows:

A) Sit down in the picture with you.  First of all, Santa may have been Southern, but he was no gentleman - it's not like he scootched over.  Secondly, and really more to the point, with the night Mama just had it isn't even fair to put this as a choice because this was not an option, Mama looked like a hott tranny mess. 
B) Bag the picture altogether. See talk of 2 hour wait, not an option, Sweetie. 
C) Throw you on Santa and hope for the best (worst) picture to add to our collection.

"No. No. No. NO. NO."

You see my dear, childhood scarring aside, Mama had no choice. Throw you I must. I hope you get what you want for Christmas, kinda a missed opportunity here - not getting the big man's ear when you had the chance? (see last week's post - I'm channeling Rudolph's dad here).

Next year, we'll try again if you want - it's your choice, dude. But know this:  if you are going to have me wait on a line like that, I'm going to get a picture out of it.  Adorable or horrifying - that's up to you.

Love,
Mama

P.S. Don't worry. I put in a good word with Santa, turns out you are getting EVERYTHING you want and more.  Mama used a little bargaining when I had the chance. Santa had some choices too.

A) Give you all that you are dreaming of. 
B) Leave you there with him.

He decided on A - spoiling you. You appear much more unruly than you really are. Way to go girl. 

Ruldolph's Dad is D*ck & Other Holiday Discoveries

Like a scene from a holiday classic, often times the holidays can throw me into a mood. Are you picturing sugar plums fairies dancing in my head? Don't. 

At different points within the holiday season there is serious stress. There is the gift getting, traveling, working out where we will go and when, figuring out work vacation, traffic, transporting said gifts through the said travel to where we figure out we'll be and sitting in traffic covered in bags. Multiply that by 3 and get BACK from said visits through traffic with more stuff than we left with - it gets me quite a mood, indeed.

This year the kid really 'gets it.' What fun! It's the first year we'll be home for the holidays and Santa is coming to TOWN, our town.  I've been hoarding collecting things through out the year so there can be a HUGE pile of goodies under the tree.  Santa is going to BRING IT this year.  It's going to be awesome. The best news? Whatever she asks for - I am 99% sure Santa has it covered. How can I be so sure?  The kid has brilliant parents, if I do say so myself.  We may or may not have been planting giving her "ideas" to ask Santa for.  These 'ideas' just so happen to match up to what I have it on good authority Santa already has packed in the closet already wrapped cause I'm unseasonably and oddly prepared like that his sleigh. 

Dad: "L, have you been a good girl this year?"
L: "Um. YEAH. A real good girl. I'm three."
Dad: "Yup, you are. So, we are going to see Santa next weekend, what are you going ask for?"
L: "Santa coming tomorrow? After school?!"
Dad: "Nope, not yet - we have to tell Santa what you want for Christmas - what are you going to ask for?"
L: "I dunno. Barbie? Horses?"
Me: "How about Barbie ON a horse?"
L: "YEAH! BARBIE ON A HORSE! And Princesses."
Me: "Awesome, what about a princess puzzle?"
L:  "Yeah! Princess puzzle!"
Me: "And maybe some games and videos?"
L: "YEAH!"
Me: (Insert the rest of the gifts in the closet in Santa's sleigh.)
L: "YEAH! I wantta all of those things! Mama, can you help me?"
Me: "Sure, with what?" (we were eating dinner at the time)
L: "Mama, when I talk to Santa, will you help me tell him??" 

CAN you STAND it?  Things were looking up over here on Happy Holiday Lane. All this Santa talk made my heart grow three sizes that day. I had stashed away a DVD box set of Holiday Classics: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, Santa Claus is Coming to Town and more.  I thought I would break it out, we were all in the mood.  It was awesome. We snugged up on the coach and watched Rudolph together. I admit it. I nearly teared up. 

Fast forward: 1 week later. Things on Happy Holiday Lane are going great. The tree is amazing (more on that later), the house smells like the spirit of Christmas, we are done with presents for the kid and thanks be to major sale sleuthing we didn't really spend that much money and a last minute MAJOR purchase is going to be tear jerking if she has the reaction I think she will.  There is one small exception to this wonderful life.

Rudolph, that god dang bastard, is practically on replay. I don't know if you've re-watched it lately but it's serious. How did we not have more issues with bullying growing up? These elves are little bastards. They are so cruel to Hermie.  The head Elf is a cranky little B and all he does is tear down Hermie who is the only elf that doesn't look like the rest (with the exception of one random tall elf).  It's probably hard enough to not look like everyone else - what kind of world were we living in where everyone looked the same and that didn't raise any red flags? Beyond his Farrah Facet quaff in the front of his face he appears to be wearing lipstick and wants to be a dentist.  I'm not sure what kind of euphemism dentistry is supposed to stand for, but the whole thing is uncomfortable to watch (on re-play, no less).

Beyond the elf leader, Santa is a real D.  He puts down the elves when they try to make a new song for him, alienates Rudolph, is passive aggressive to his wife and Rudolph's dad - just a real a*hole.  Why, after viewing this as a child, did I want to visit this cranky old bastard and put hope that he would make my dreams come true? 

Finally, Rudolph's dad perpetuates a feeling of the opposite of unconditional love.  After a quick google search, apparently this is conditional hate (duh). He hates his kid because he is different. Um, how is this a feel good holiday movie again? In addition to him being a real jackass, he is also sexist. Well, maybe Sam the Snowman is because as he narrated a pivotal scene in the movie he dropped a bomb I seriously do NOT recall ever hearing. What am I going on about? Let me lay it down for you. 

As you may remember, Rudolph runs away because everyone hates him because he is different.  Despite a youth of being taught to hide who he is (thanks Dad) the breaking point is when the reindeer coach specifically instructs the other kids to "not let Rudolph play in their reindeer games."  The love of his life, Clarice (creepy fact all I hear is "Why, hello Clarice" when her name is mentioned in the movie) chases after him, proclaims her love for him and accepts him for all that he is.  He is feeling better about life until Clarice's red-nosing hating dad come by and crash their dreams. No daughter of his will be spending time with a red-nosed freak. Crushed, Rudolph runs away. 

Now this is where I freaked. As Sam tells the story and Donner (Jerk Dad) & the mom (don't speak unless spoken to woman) realize that Rudolph is gone Donner has buyers remorse and tells the little woman he's going out to find Rudolph. Of course the mom wants to come to, probably realizing if Rudolph is as smart as she thinks he is there's no way he's coming back with this idiot. The response?  

"NO. This is mans work." - Donner, Rudolph's dad. Not only a hater but a sexist. Don't believe me? I'm serious. This happened. 




The story continues on to say, "And no sooner did the man of the house leave..." (Seriously. Is this serious?) basically Clarice and mom decide to rebel again THE man and go find Rudolph on their own.  Maybe the lesson here is "Girl Power!" as long as the man of the house is gone? Geesh.

I've heard of things looking different looking at them through a child's eyes (see magic at Disney), but being horrified after the fact looking at something with adult eyes? This is news to me. Have you ever seen something after the fact and wondered HOW you didn't notice it before? I get to relive this nightmare everyday, at approximately 6pm once the kid requests another round of Rudolph the FREAK Nosed Reindeer and the Dysfunctional Family of the North Pole. 

It's Red on the Washer Machine And My Bunny was Just Shot by an IQ Quiz

I love me some Facebook. I love me some twitter.  They satisfy two different 'zones' for me. Facebook is where most of my friends (and family) are. I suffer through some things in the name of that friendship loyalty.

I don't hide people for telling me color their bra is or where they leave their purse. I don't (always) hide your Farmville efforts or who shot who in the mafia (ok I do hide the games - but only that info, I keep you around for the long haul).  I watch the relationship status go back and forth and your up to the minute description of every meal you ate, nap you took or location you are checking into.  I even put up with the unnecessary shirtlessnesses and muscle shots - because damn it. It's your page and you have the right to share what you want. 

Now for all that- I ask one thing of you. Vote for my dang kid and I will ATTEMPT not to make this pimping for votes thing a habit. Here's the reason why you should help a sister out. 

1. The art? It's hotness. For real, check their work out. 
2. The team at Modern Bird Studios, spot on.  Husband & wife team that are fraking hilarious. 
3. Mama wants a piece of art. 
4. For god sake. Check out the 'official' name of the contest? They speak my language. 

Here's what you do:

1. Check out their Facebook page and give them a LIKE won't you? Facebook | Modern Bird Studios.
2. Check out the holiday photo contest and like on this sweet little cherub.
3. That's it. 

All of the photos are great, I have to say. There are even a FEW that are close contenders to the cuteness that this little girl is giving (OK I'll be honest, I'm scared of a few).  Either way you do have to check out Modern Bird Studios. 

To be fair and honest I may or may not have used up all my annoying mommy coins in trying to get the kid voted for the Gap Kid Casting Call (my bad) and at times update my Facebook status unnecessarily but hey. No body is perfect. Boom. I've said it. 


What's the wager? How many people on Facebook and Twitter will I 'loose' by pimping out my kid? Ah the causalities of war. 

For the love of Pete. Social Media, don't fail me now. 

The Olsen Chronicles

 

From the archives of Guarro Gone Wild we unearth a wild night for the girls from 2006.  Clearly a night out like this is a cry for help. Someone help Michelle Tanner, even with her new party pals the likes of girl scouts, boy scouts and Debbie Gibson it looks like they are up to no good. I've heard of family love, but this is taking it to a whole other level. Where is Danny, Uncle Jesse & Joey when you need them?*

*If you are new here, this post may not make much sense. Maybe you aren't new and you are still totally confused. Check out my last post for more details and how I was inspired to bring back a Halloween of yore. 

The change and likeness of this post and pictures is different than what or how I usually post.  It might look familiar to you! Isn't imitation the best form of flattery - Guarros Gone Wild is Pink is the New Blog for Halloween, because why the heck not? Dressing up is FUN - Happy Halloween

THIS POST IS PROUDLY LINKED UP WITH THE SITS GIRLS HALLOWEEN EVENT.