And we're off!

Makena's passport came! The bags are packed. The horses are boarded. The house is clean. The house-sitter (man-diva) is coming to keep Tiger and the tortoise company. I'd post a link to the instruction letter he sent me to keep him happy but I'll only give you the highlights. I was to go to Barneys and buy him any "little something" from the fourth floor and up. I was to stock the fridge with cocktail foods -- including vodka and wine and pre-packaged salad stuff. Thank God the thread-count of our sheets is high enough for him to actually sleep on our bedding -- or he may have sent me somewhere else to stock up on linens.

In any case, I did manage to round up the necessary victuals but I ran out of time and I never made it to Barney's. El Misterioso threw a ten-person dinner party at me (on the eve of our departure) and we just, this second, finished cleaning up. Man-Diva will have to settle for a lovely Mexican souvenir gourd mask. I'll select something special. Something Jonathan Adler would approve of (I'm a Top Design junkie)!

Barring any unforeseen delays, we will be on a plane to Cancun tomorrow for a bit of R & R. I can't say that I'm looking forward to the almost five hour flight with Makena on my lap -- because it's highly doubtful that she will stay there. She's gotten into the habit of headbutting me when she gets frustrated. She's also big on "cause and effect." Like hitting me and telling me, "ow!" Or staring at me and dropping her bowl on the floor to get a reaction out of me or to purely say "uh oh."

We've purchased a cheap electronic Yahtzee game (for her) that Jack will be instructed to play with on the plane when Makena starts acting up. The idea being that she will be enthralled with it (because she'll think it belongs to Jack) and absolutely have to have it -- at which point, we'll let her have a mini-tantrum and then make Jack hand it to her! I also have a lollipop as back up and a Margarita as back up if the first two things backfire -- cause the legal drinking age in Mexico is 17 months, right? (kidding, the Margharita is for me!)

If I survive, I'll post again in a couple of weeks.

Hasta la vista amigos!

Isabelle

Am I smarter than a third grader?

I volunteered to help with our annual Public School fundraiser (way back in November, before I learned how to say "no") and I got sucked into this all-consuming vortex for three weeks, which I was finally spit out of on March 11th (the day after the event was finally held). I was in charge of the classroom art project (pictured below,) the classroom basket and, last but not least, I had also volunteered to help furnish and decorate the event. Translation: Alienation of entire family. I made El Misterioso (AKA my husband) attend the event and we had a great time. Partly because my involvement with this extravaganza was over and partly because we had a fun table of friends to eat, drink, and be merry with.

I'll get to the point. The Chair of the event decided to hold a raffle (selling 100 tickets for $100). The winner of said raffle would be allowed to select any item that was up for grabs in the silent or live auction! Everyone, on a first come, first serve basis, could chose their ticket number or numbers -- if you purchased more. I decided to add all our birthdays together and I came up with the number "56," which I eagerly purchased for 100 bucks. There was a palpable buzz of anticipation in the minutes leading up to the draw. It was great.

Well guess who won the lucky ticket?!!! Meeeeeee! When they called it and called my name at dinner, I lept for joy, hooting and hollering, I couldn't believe it. I quickly huddled with EM and after a very short debate between picking a suite at Dodger Stadium for twenty people or a week in the Bahamas, we quickly decided on the vacation. Yeah, Bahamas!!! Anna-Nicole, here we come!

I danced up to the front, pumping my fists triumphantly, to receive this huge "Bahamas" placard which I marched back to my ecstatic husband and applauding crowd. All 260 pair of eyes were on me -- and apparently, the back of my dress, WHICH WAS SOAKING WET! Can you say, "embarrassed?" Can you say "mortified?" There was no rock for me to crawl under, no Scottie, to beam me up. My seat was wet. I just groaned.

Why can't things just happen to me in a normal fashion? So typical. Classic Isabelle. I'm used to the regular embarrassment of having lettuce stuck between my teeth. I'm defective that way. But a wet dress? I quickly wrapped the pashmina around my waist and, beet-faced, side-stepped my way to the Ladies', desperately hoping to air-dry myself, FAST.

Later, after I downed my glass of Chardonnay to dull the pain, my hubby asked me how I came up with the number and I told him about the birthday math and he nodded, pleased... then he turned to me, incredulously, and said: "the sum of our birthdays (Mak, Jack's, his and mine) is 54, not 56"! Duh, he was right of course (I hate that). I messed up. But my error still won us a family a vacation, right? This was all about karmic payback for the volunteer work I had just completed, right? This was not a reward for being smarter that an third grader, which apparently, I'm not.

But I am lucky!!!!

Is - off to see the world!

PS: When Jack found out that we were the lucky winners and that we hadn't selected "Principal For A Day" he pitched a hissy fit. Principal for a day? Are you kidding me?

Ninjas

I don't know what's gotten into my kids but acrobatics are in the air. I've managed to train my heart not to skip a beat every time I catch them pulling one of their stunts, but the acts are starting to get a wee bit taxing.

The Little League rafters are Makena's jungle gym three days a week and she can't get enough of them. I've given up trying to stop her from climbing them, as have the rest of the parents on the team. I suppose I could equip her with a helmet and pads but I think they would only impede her balance. Add to that her love of launching herself off the couch -- whether you are there to catch her or not, and that sums up her activities for the day.

The electrician was over last Monday and while we were talking about what needed to be done, Makena sneaked up his ladder with her stacking cups. I had my back turned for a few seconds and that was all the time she needed. She had practically reached the top when the electrician saw her and got the shock of his life (every pun intended). I had to calm him down and explain that this was a normal occurrence and not to worry. He instructed me to quickly get my camera -- which I happened to have handy, and then he told me to stand next to her and spot her, because it might make me look like a more caring mother. Nice.

I am seriously tempted to lie about her age and sign her into gymnastics early (she has to be 18 months old,) just to give her softer and safer places to land, if and when she does wipe out. Because I do care. I really, really, do.

If you haven't discovered the Japanese show "Ninja Warriors" yet, you are missing something most excellent -- in the same vein as "Iron Chef" and including the funny, poorly translated voice-overs, only with crazy athletes trying to overcome mind-blowing challenges. We stumbled upon it surfing the channels one day and Jack took to it like a fish to water. We now have it Tivo'd and we watch it religiously. On any given night at our home, you might stumble upon a hastily made obstacle course of pillows and furniture that Jack has created to conquer. We always have to time him as he tries to better himself with every run of the course. As a result, the bathroom and the bedroom door frames are foot-smeared from his attempts to climb them and reach his ultimate goal: to touch the ceiling!

Dreams really can come true.

Is -- a mother to Ninjas.

Pig

This was our first Chinese New Year celebration and we threw a party for some of our friends and their daughters. The one thing we had in common was that our children were all adopted through the same agency (though at different times). My Taiwanese friend, Ching ( the MVP,) came over even though her daughter was sick and helped me launch the festivities. She made us fresh egg rolls, crab Rangoon and some kind of gooey red bean cake. She also helped me select food items from a Chinese restaurant menu. I made Chinese Chicken Salad (lame) and baked 50 (Year of the) Pig sugar cookies, thinking, at the time, that I would have an enormous amount left over. NOT. It's amazing how much sugar seven little girls can pack away. They spent about forty-five minutes icing and decorating the sugar cookies and then ATE THE ENTIRE BATCH. Jack made a quick exit to his room, clearly overwhelmed by the "girl power" that had invaded his home and missed out on the pig-out. We tried to help the little Tasmanian devils burn off the sugar but I'm not sure we entirely succeeded.

The following photographs depict the anatomy of a sugar rush:

Frosting and decorating...

More cookies...

More frosting and tasting...

Eating...

Time to start burning it off playing with balloons!

Ooh, look! Fire!

Let's teach Makena how to drive!

That's the ticket! But where are the air bags on this thing?

Let's drag the Fisher Price Jungle Gym into the living room! Hey, is that Jack?

Let's bring more toys and let's add Tiger to the mix!

Notice the men-folk carrying on a conversation while chaos reigns supreme.

Five hours later... Yes, Jack. Your sister is asleep, the girls are gone and so are the cookies.

Happy New Year of the Pig.

Is - loving this new tradition.

Elementary School Musical

Jack's third grade teacher decided to put on a musical about the solar system, entitled "Vacation to Mars". Jack and his friend, Caelan, were cast as "The Sun". Here they are shining bright in their first show! Jack is on the right and shows up about fifteen seconds into the clip.

Proud mom,

Isabelle
PS, Jack's hair is long because he is growing it to donate it to Locks of Love, for the second time.

The Duchess of Hazard

It's a miracle Makena and I are still alive. I was driving down PCH the other day, headed to Chinatown to pick up some New Year decorations in preparation for the celebration, when I felt a slightly twitchy thing happening on my forehead. I was talking on the phone (multitasking) and I happened to glance up at my rear view mirror to see A SPIDER CRAWLING ALONG MY HAIRLINE. I practically swerved into oncoming traffic, narrowly missing those upright yellow road dividers! Summoning all my sang froid to keep calm, and realizing that I couldn't get over to the shoulder without side-swiping several cars, I dropped the phone and flicked it off. I sighed with relief then freaked out all over again because it went onto Makena! She, thank God, was asleep in her car seat so I didn't worry about her deciding to eat it, but then the critter disappeared again.

I was still going fifty with nowhere to stop, every expletive in the book was shooting out my mouth imagining the nasty bites my baby was enduring, and before I could pull the car over to the shoulder and to a complete stop, THE SPIDER WAS BACK ON MY HEAD! Either the flick-off force hadn't detached it from its silk thread, or the eight-legged crawler had decided that "mi cabeza" was going to be the location for "Charlotte's Web ll". I allowed myself to scream, grabbed my hair brush from my purse and brushed the hell out of my forehead. Yeah. I killed it. I was invincible. I was "Lara Croft, Tomb Raider" (give or take twenty pounds and a good facial). To celebrate, I proceeded to Hill street for some dim sum with my daughter.

So that was on a Monday, on Tuesday, I was doing whatever I was doing when Tiger started circling Makena and a certain waft began to permeate the air. My cue! I gathered up the baby and carried her to her room to change her...and I was stunned. Three years of changing diapers with Jack never prepared me for this. I'd hit the mother-load. We're talking -- my husband's worst nightmare! The kind that makes you second guess the benefits of fiber-rich diets. I had to strip her down and bathe her immediately (it had reached up into her arm pits). So fifteen minutes later, life was good, the baby was clean, but I still couldn't get the odor out of the air and Tiger was now circling me. Why? Because I was soaking in diaper juice! My T-shirt was stained, my arms were smeared, my hair was streaked! So I just moaned and headed for my second shower of the morning feeling like I was toxic waste.

If being a mother isn't hazardous to your health, I don't know what it. And here I thought the spider was bad!

Stinkabelle
PS Yes, I know the top image is blurry. It's just way too hard to find appropriate pictures for this kind of post!