Single Lady Date Night

The other night, I got my hair all done up, my nails did, threw on a cute pair of shoes, and went out for a night on the town with my date(s). Plural.  Yes, there are two men in my life now. I am quite the hussy. 

When I go on dates with my boyfriends, they are not what you would call typical.  I usually end up paying, my dates don't drink alcohol, table manners are discussed at length, and if I am lucky, my dates don't yell in the middle of dinner, but they may turn around in their seats a bit to check out the establishment. 

You have probably guessed it by now, but Carlo and Eli are my dates for the evening.  I know you are wondering where I went on my hot date with my young ones. Well, basically my boyfriends only love three places: Red Robin, McDonald's, or Teriyaki chicken. Thus, I had to opt for the fancier option out of the three choices and head to the wonderful establishment of Red Robin.

Here is the steamy play by play of the dinner date action.

5:00 Arrive at Red Robin for dinner.  Yes, we eat at 5:00 because Eli goes to bed at 7:00pm and we have to do baths and all of that.

5:01 Get ushered into a part of the restaurant where nobody is present.  I have a feeling this is because one of my dates is one and the other date is four years old.

 

5:04 Waitress arrives and takes our order immediately.  She works here and understands that there cannot be long pauses or breaks when dining with small ones or chaos will ensue. Carlo decides he wants to get the messiest item available, so we order spaghetti and broccoli.

5:05 The water arrives and Eli wants to eat my lemon.  I give it to him and he proceeds to suck on it, make a crazy puckering lip expression, spit, and then suck on it again.

5:12 Carlo is coloring on his place mat.  Eli is now eating a crayon instead of the lemon.

5:13 Another family is actually seated by us.  They also have a one year old.  Random thought of the night: Does Red Robin group babies in sections of the restaurant on purpose?

5:15 The food arrives. I pass out Carlo and Eli's utensils and food.

5:16 Carlo pretends a noodle is a mustache. I ask him to please use a fork.

5:19 Carlo wants to know what is going on with the people behind him.  I ask him to turn around please.

5:20 Eli decides it is a good idea to dunk his old lemon from earlier on in the meal into the ketchup from the shared fries.

5:23 Eli drops all of the baskets, menus, and napkins on the floor, while mom is taking a bite of burger.

 

 

5:25 Carlo uses manner and daintily wipes his mouth with his napkin, and I feel like a proud momma who taught her son some manners.  But then he follows it up with a sleeve wipe.

5:30 Eli finds a fork and bangs it on the table, while I am drinking my water.  I almost spill the water before I can take away the fork.  Phew.  Disaster averted and fork noise only lasted a second.

5:31 I ask for the check, but there is a random hot chocolate on the bill, so the waitress has to redo it.

5:37 We leave the restaurant and walk back to our truck just in time to avoid the rain. Date night was a success because there were no abnormally loud noises coming from my table, the kids ate and so did I, and nobody got hurt. Sweet.

Carlo and Eli, we will have to do this again sometime. 

(Side note: you might think that I really love Red Robin because I write about eating there a lot.  The truth is, I go there because more often than not, there are plenty of screaming kids, loud noises and so on, so a couple of little one aren't going to ruin any one's real romantic night out. I would love to go out to Pasta Bellas in Ballard, but will have to go on a momma's night out excursion.)

Anybody know any other kid friendly restaurants?

Another Type of Therapy: Shoe Therapy

I have been pretty down lately, but to counteract that I have found a remedy.  No, it is not alcohol or the herbal substances now newly legal in Washington (though tempting) but an accessory I wear daily: shoes. Whenever I am sad, a new pair will always brighten my day. It's like a massage for my feet. Well, let's be honest. Most cute shoes are not comfortable, but nevertheless, I cannot resist a pair if I see them.

You see, shoes are always there for me.  They protect a girl from a harmful tack or a rogue nail.  They comfort me in the cold and wrap me in warmth.  They can be sexy or sensible or practical or just fun and crazy.  I am in love with shoes. They can be my next boyfriend.

A heeled pump has the power to make me feel proud, strong, and independent.  A slipper makes me relaxed and at ease. Whereas, a good tennis shoe indicates that I am feeling athletic and fit, even if I haven't hit the gym in a month.  It is in the power of the mind and the power of the foot. 

I used to own maybe two or three pairs of shoes.  Lately, I have been buying many shoes.  I have a shoe for every occasion, and decided a collection might be in order. See below for the shoes I have purchased within the last month...

 

I bought these at Payless Shoes for $12, and yes, two eight year old girls in my class have the exact same shoes.  Awesome. Perhaps, this was not my best purchase.

 

These were a DSW purchase along with the others to follow.  I liked how they reminded me of my salsa dancing days ten years ago.

 

I fell in love with this pair because of the pretty feminine flowers on the top.  Cute, but yet, the gold makes them a little sassy.  I gotta have some sassy in my life.

 

Please notice the sparkly crystals on this turquoise pair.  I am an almost 32 year old who is still obsessed with glitter.

 

This pair is designed by Jessica Simpson.  I know, I know.  You all wish you had shoes that were designed by such an awesome diva. 

Which pair should I wear tomorrow?

Life on Another Planet

Well, crap.  I am getting old.  I just went to my ten year college reunion and pretended I was 21 again.  However, this proves difficult to do when you have a four year old and a one year old in tow. So I did not end up doing a keg stand at the random house party, or tandem biking it from one house to another. (Our 1983 tandem bike got stolen in Tacoma 10 years ago anyway.)  But it was still amazingly great to catch up with old friends, relive college memories, and of course, hang off the docks.

For those of you who are not biology majors, but attended UPS, there is a little known world of insane coolness at the Point Defiance Park docks.  If you hang your head over the side, as shown above, and look down at the dock itself, you will see a world you didn't know existed.  There are sea urchins, anemones, kelp crabs, barnacles, sea lettuce, kelp ropes, sea stars, and the most amazing tube worms.  (The tube worms are my favorite, because if you touch their flowery looking ends, they suck in super fast and it is fun to mess with them.) 

I first discovered this wonderland of fun and beauty in my Bio112 class with Peter Wimberger.  It pretty much convinced me on the spot to become a bio nerd for life.  After that lab, these docks became a place to take friends, contemplate life, and just take a break from the world.  I could have looked down into that world for hours, or until a boat came by and almost chopped my head off.

If you have never hung off the docks before, I suggest you try it because your life will never be the same.  You will look at the little things differently, and maybe you will consider hunting sun stars at midnight with a head lamp on and a lab partner by your side. 

Indulging My Addiction

Some people are addicted to alcohol, and some people are addicted to heroine or meth, but my drug of choice definitely has to be carbs and chocolate.  Thanks to my great friend and neighbor Kim, I was introduced to the best bakery I have ever been to.  It is located in Renton and is brand new.  It is called Flour, Sugar, and More Bakery and it is a hidden gem, and I got to enjoy it on a Mama's Night Out.

Luckily, this amazing bakery was introduced to me on a day where I needed chocolate more than anything; earlier that day I had dressed up as a pioneer school teacher, and whipped my ruler around like a crazy lady.  The kids had a spelling bee, a hoe down, recited their pioneer poems, and were treated to a day of good ol' fashioned pioneer fun, but it was ex-haust-ing to say the least. 

Anyway, when I walked in the door of Flour, Sugar, and More, all of that was forgotten; I was smacked with the delicious aroma of chocolate.  Get this; it was real homemade chocolate too. Mariana, the kindest and most talented owner and baker, makes all of her own chocolate from various cacao powders. From scratch.  Who makes their own chocolate from scratch?  Pretty much nobody. But Mariana does and you can tell.

Once inside, a sweet tooth could find macaroons, cakes, Mexican breads, the best hot chocolate you will ever have in your life- hands down, and delicious tarts with exotic flavors like passion fruit or guava.  They were to die for, inexpensive, and perfect.

Have you ever watched that movie Chocolate with Johny Depp?  Well, I kind of felt like Johny Depp was going to walk through the door as I sat there sipping my hot chocolate. I am not gonna lie.  See, here is walking through the door now...

I love exploring new places, and finding hidden restaurants, which are not overcrowded and compact, but cute, clean, and fun, and this place had it all.  It has only been open for 18 days, but it feels like its been around for a while.  You definitely have to check out the facebook page, and visit Flour, Sugar, and More when you get a chance.  I promise.  It will be worth the hunt and the experience.   

DIYs with Preschoolers

I have been big on home improvement projects lately.  (Well, let's face it. I kind of have to be with a half finished house.)    So last Wednesday, Carlo and I painted chairs. Yes, I decided to do this instead of my laundry.

 I was a little hesitant about utilizing a four year old's help on my bentwood chair painting project, but I figured that life is all about the journey rather than the destination, and Carlo really wanted to help me paint.

I have never seen a preschooler so excited.  He pulled on his McQueen pull ups (which he uses for bed), found his very own "painting shirt" that he proclaimed he would always paint in, and headed to the garage with a brush in hand.  He dipped the brush into can, made sure his knuckles were covered in mint goo, and eagerly painted away. 

Carlo: Mom, I am an excellent painter. (As his knees were covered in mint and paint dripped off the chair.)
Me: You sure are.

Carlo: What do you think paint tastes like?
Me: Poop. Definitely poop. Don't eat it.

Carlo: I have my special painting shirt all ready to go and now all I need are my painting utensils! (He had already been painting for twenty minutes when this was exclaimed.)

Carlo painted by my side for half of an hour.  I understand that might not sound like much, but in toddler land, that is an eternity.  We finished the second coat on all four chairs.  I know my bentwood chairs will have drip marks and they will not be perfect.  I do have mint paint on the garage floor, and I had to wipe it off of hands, elbows, knees, and fingers.  But now I will always remember the time in the garage when Carlo was in his tennis shoes, McQueen pull ups, and a painting shirt, and he helped me create the kitchen chairs, while contemplating the flavor of a satin finish. 

I Don't Want to be the Perfect Mom: One Teacher's Perspective

As a mom and a teacher, I have seen many parenting techniques, and many women striving to be the perfect mom.  I do not want to be the perfect mom.

For some people, the "perfect mommy" protects her children from all harm, entertains her child for hours, and fixes all mistakes for her child.   Apparently, she makes fancy lunches for her kids, complete with the crust removed.  When school is not in session, the perfect mommy has activities planned for her children to work on throughout the morning and onto the afternoon so they are never bored.  Perfect mom rescues her child from the “mean kid” in class by sending in long emails to the teacher.  She enrolls her child in multiple activities and sports at once, and “goes to bat” for her child when he or she makes a mistake at school and has to miss a fun activity due to his/her choice.  Super mom swoops in to save their children from potential mistakes, only wants her child to have fun and lovely experiences every day, and wants to help fix all the problems that her child will face.  She is wonder woman.  Or is she?

I do not want to be the perfect mom.  I want to be a mom who helps her boys become strong, hardworking, compassionate leaders who learn from their mistakes. 

My ideal mom is one who teaches her children how to make their own lunch in the morning, and shows them how to pack it in the backpack before the bus.  She teaches her children how to be responsible, independent, capable, and help out around the house as well.  If her kiddos forgets their lunch, and the ideal mommy receives a phone call about it, she does not bring it to school.  Her child will not die of hunger from missing one meal, and the next day, her child will remember their lunch and learn a little bit about organization.

My ideal mom lets her children explore the house, invent their own games out of cardboard boxes, and build forts in the living room.  She reads stories, plays board games with her children, but she also allows for down time, so the kids can think and create on their own.  They learn to make mistakes, get dirty, explore the world, and make new friends in the neighborhood; maybe they will have dance contests, play rain on the roof, kill the robots, or play poor/rich people if they are like me.

My ideal mom talks to her child about friend problems, and offers suggestions by explaining what others have done in similar situations.  She discusses how to approach the problem, but allows the child to work on solving the friendship issues on his/her own rather than expecting the teacher to solve it or trying to solve it herself.  If the child can learn and grow independently, then he/she will learn to solve friendship problems in the future.  The kiddo will also be able to have the tools to feel confident that they can accomplish things on their own. 

My ideal mom is someone who encourages her child to ride his bike around the neighborhood, play in the woods, and chase after a ball on the playground.  If her kiddo is interested in joining a team, or acting, or piano, then she helps foster the growth but not at the expense of free time or family time.  My ideal mom makes sure free time and play time and family time are balanced with structured activity time, so her kids aren't stressed and have time to imagine. 

My ideal mom knows that all people make mistakes and that is how you learn and grow.  She helps her kids realize that there are both good and bad consequences for behavior.  For example, if ideal mom's kids clean their rooms on their own, they might have extra time to go to frozen yogurt on Saturday rather than doing chores.  Or, in contrast, if ideal mom’s kid writes an inappropriate word on a poster board, then they might not be able to participate in the fun sporting day event that requires a team to carry the board.  My ideal mom is sympathetic to her child but explains that sometimes there are disappointing consequences for actions.  

I am far from being the “perfect or ideal mom” that I want to be.  I am not a very cutesy person, and I am tired at the end of the day.  Sometimes I yell, and sometimes I step in when I should not.  But I know that I am working toward making my kids responsible, kind, respectful people who can feel proud of their accomplishments.   Sometimes that means Carlo gets a timeout when he is sassy and doesn’t get to do the fun lunch date that was planned because mom cannot trust that he say nice things to others.  Other times, that means that Eli doesn’t get a cookie, because he bit Carlo rather than the cookie.  But I know in the end, my kids will be better people because of my compassion, ability to give choices and consequences, and expectations that they need to solve their own problems.

Airing out my dirty laundry....

Let's be honest.  We all have that one chore that we hate more than anything else in the world and we procrastinate and procrastinate; until, one day, it is staring us in the face and we can no longer ignore it.  My chore of death is laundry. 

I don't have mounds of dirty clothes though.  It is really the clean piles that tend to build up and explode like Mt. Saint Helens. (This is much less smelly than dirty socks.)

I tip toe around my own erupting mountain chain that develops in my family room, shove it in a bin and put it in the corner.  Out of sight, out of mind, right?  It sits there mocking me when I have much more important things to worry about like who Andy, the bachelorette, is going to kick off in the brand new episode.  I could not focus on her life if I was simultaneously folding towels, right?  (This is what I tell myself to feel better.) 

In addition to my Bachelorette obsession/procrastination techniques, there are a few other odd things that I have mastered while avoiding the laundry:

1.) Watching the show True Tori.  Yes, it is about Tori Spelling's life after an affair.  Riveting. 

2.) Researching how much it would cost to go to Kennebunkport, Maine, Costa Rica, Thailand, Indonesia, Australia, and Michigan. Note: I have no money to take such a trip.

3.) Creating and playing word work games with Carlo. 

4.) Cleaning the tile grout in the bathroom with a tooth brush.

5.) Grading the math tests that I have been putting off for the last week.  Enter every grade into my grade book, and then write fun comments on all the tests.  (If you are a teacher, you know this is the worst, but yet, it is better than laundry.)

6.) Painting the chairs that I bought at an estate sale last year.  They have been in the garage for about six months, and painting them a cheery shade of mint green is way better than laundry.

7.) Counting all of the cans of food in the cupboard for no reason.  Turn them around so the label is facing outward.

I could go on and on, but I fear that the piles of clothes that need folding are taking on a life of their own.  If I do not do something about them, they might slowly take over my house and my hallway, and my bathroom...  I might not be able to find my children any more. 

What is your chore of death?  What do you do instead? Anyone want to come over and have a laundry party?