Harper's 5th Birthday Interview

This comes a month late. . . on the heels of a raucous girl superhero party. Same questions from the 3rd birthday interview. I did a 4th. I don't know where I filed it. Typical.




Ready to "battack danger" with her lasso of troof.

Your birthday was last month. We should do a birthday interview.

Why interview me? Why? Where? This is late.

 

How old are you?

5 years old

 

Who is your best friend?

Hannah

 

What is your favorite way to spend your time?

doing schoolwork

 

What's your favorite color?

pink

 

Favorite food?

watermelon

 

What is your favorite family activity?

give them hugs and kisses

 

and then the same question again..because 5.

 

What's your favorite activity to do with your family?

draw and play

 

Like what kind of games?

Because those are both healthy things and you have to do them.

 

What's your favorite toy?

Stuffed animals. Elephant*.

*Much grief surrounding elephant's impending loneliness once she starts school, thus requiring daily mention of huge golden lab stuffed animal from Gander Mountain to keep him company. We will probably end up buy it if she persists in her intelligent persuasion tactics, which have included mid-morning calls to dad at the office to lobby on elephant's behalf and the identification and presentation of many other stuffed animals whose welfare will also benefit from said golden lab. 

 

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Nurse.

 

Why?

Because nurses* are my favorite, so I want to be like Nurse Nancy.

*It seems pertinent to add that, specifically, Harper wants to be a "snake nurse." She will wear gloves, so the poison doesn't get on her.

 

What makes you happy?

giggling.

 

What makes you sad?

((brow furrowed..hands on hips..stands up)) Being angry. Getting angry. Throwing sticks at me. Some people who are strangers.

Yikes. If only you had a real lasso for those stick-throwing strangers.

 

What is your favorite TV show?

Cinderella. I mean Lucky Duck.

 

What is your favorite book?

Snuggle Buddies*.

*A step reader about the Disney princesses and their pets. Also, no day is complete without a solid 45 minutes of role play. Harper is a "palace pet," while I am the protagonist, antagonist, and all supporting roles following her dictated script. Her contribution: barking and meowing in response.

 

What do you like to learn about?

Science.

 

What was the best part about your birthday?

Pin the tail on the donkey.

Really? That was your favorite part of the party that I spent weeks Pinteresting? $1.98 from K-Mart? Harp. You're the only one who played.

 

Where do you like to go?

To the beach to play in the sand and water. The beach is my favorite place!

 

What is your favorite treat?

jelly beans!

 

What do you think about at night before you go to sleep?

My dolls. I think about my plastic doll Jessie and her plastic horse, Peppermint.

 

Who is a famous person you'd like to meet?

Aunt Kristen. She looks famous when she wears her clothes.

Well now.

 

What's your favorite thing about being 5?

Playing nurse and helping my stuffed animals.

 

Do you feel different than when you were four?

Yeah. I feel like I'm much taller than short.

 

Happy Birthday, Baby.

Mom. It's not my birthday anymore.

manly essentials.

"Mommmaaa, I'm suck."
"Stuck, huh? How'd you get up there?"
"Cwimbed dis cabinet."
"Whatcha need?"
"Deese boots and a protein bar. Kiss me befoe I jump."

10 ways to horrify a 2.5 year old.

1. Assume he wants his banana peeled.
2. Pick up a sibling. Ever.
3. Sing along with him.
4. Help him put on his shoes.
5. Suggest he has a last name.
6. Buckle his car seat.
7. Gently recommend he not approach an ice cream cone bottom first.
8. Embark upon any painless endeavor of his basic hygiene which must be repeated multiple times per day, including, but not limited to: face wiping, diaper changing, tooth brushing and hair combing.
9. Pick him up.
10. Put him down.

Defying physics and other talents.

By now, y'all know I'm always game for a gimmicky diet or workout. It should come as no shock that I'm nearly done with T25 and headed for P90X. It is for real. I can do push-ups again. Real ones.

Admittedly, I am somewhat concerned that if I maintain this sort of ..manly Jazzercize, our ceiling downstairs will collapse, because.. high jumps. Hopefully, I will land on the couch.

As usual, I've gained weight. It's just what I do. It's a gift. I like to think that I'm built for survival. I would survive as long as any teenage heroine in any popular young adult literature series on which I've binged this summer.

But since I'm not trying to climb out of the Grand Canyon carrying a boat, eating only apples grown by long gone farmers of the Rising, my jeans are tight.

It's a delicate balance, jump squats and coffee cake.

Today, I bought a bag of chocolate Shakeology.

I read a lot about it before I did, because the price is unspeakable.

In the end, I decided to try it because eating healthy food is expensive, anyway.

 Concerned it would be like.. chocolate water (that's how it looks in commercials).., I mixed it with 12 oz. of coconut milk, a half cup of crushed ice and, much to Henry's annoyance, pulled out the immersion blender.

I say all of that - even the anecdotal rambling - to say, it's really thick. Maybe because of the chia seeds or one of the many other fancypants ingredients. I don't know. I know coffee cake made with cream cheese. It's what brung me.

So..

I struggled through the first half, feeling somewhat defeated. ..but then, in a texture-driven near heave, a moment of clarity prevailed over beer-bonging strategies of yore:

It's like drinking chocolate pudding.

WHO WOULDN'T WANT TO DO THAT?

And lastly, I read somewhere that good photography is essential for successful blogging. Ha!

This is after the ice melted. . . I stuck my phone in and tilted the shake down, so it's slowly lolling its way down through Brandon's Phil Robertson Happy Happy Happy Tervis tumbler, looking like the mouth of Hell. But in a good way.

on breaking the first rule of fight club.

..commercial district of Raeford Road, 8:30 a.m...

Henry: Where we goin', Momma?
Me: I can't decide between Walmart and Target.
Harper: Walmart!
Henry: Yeah, Walmart!
Me: ((huge Walmart-hating sigh)). Ok. But you know they don't have many kid carts and you'll have to get in a regular one together. And Harper, you have to ride since you have a splinter in your foot. Can y'all do that without fighting? In the same cart?
Henry: We not fighting.
Harper: We can fight nice.
Me: Impossible. No fighting. Understand?
Harper: Yes.
Henry: I don't need to be in duh cart.
Me: You will be in the cart. No fighting.
Henry: ((sigh)) Can we listen to Puff Daddy?


....Pause....


Harper: Can we go in another store after Walmart so we can fight?

In defense of Bloom's Taxonomy.

Harper's Book Club currently recommends:

There are more life lessons than you can shake a stick at.

Bless her heart, she even understands some of them.

I feel a stab in my heart when I realize she's old enough to "get" it and I spend our discussion probing for understanding and marveling at surprisingly apt answers.

I will the time to slow.

..just then,

 

Harper, why is this your favorite book?
Harper: His NAKED BUTT! ((attempts to moon me, Henry falls down laughing)) 

 

The end.

On horrifying the nearly 5-year-old.

Suggest she jump into the pool in a cotton dress rather than spend an hour unearthing her bathing suit, goggles, coordinating towel and flip flops. "NEVER!" ((hysterically, throws self on bed))

Attempt to explain the concept of a word scramble. "BUT WHAT DOES THE MESSED UP WORD SAY?"

Play the video of the real Macarena from 15 years ago. "Who are these grandpas?!"

Explain that Puff Daddy is a real person. "When I'm 10, I'll have a big cat named Puff Daddy. Puffy if I'm in a hurry."

Verify that the Ninja Turtles are not of this realm. "Are they in our land? Will they ever attack danger at the grocery store when we're there? The grocery store does have pizza."

Admit that you don't know who Santa's mom is. .."But Mom?.. Mrs. Klaus.. She's not his mom, she's his lady, right?"

never trust a wayfarer-wearing hipster.

After an especially tantrum-filled morning, Henry earned the rare nap.

He didn't sleep. Like usual.

After 45 minutes of boisterous play plus some intermittent rage straight into the monitor, walkie-talkie-style, **YOU KNOW I DON'T NAP. OVER.**, I gave up.

I found him pantsless, diaperless, but nonetheless, bePolo-ed.

"Haaay, Momma!"

Hey bud! Where are your pants and diaper?

"Over there. Diaper just flew off!"

I forgot my Blogger password.

That's how long it's been since I've thought about sticking my toe in this water. I had to search for the "write a new post" button. What.

Food, kids, sporadic bursts of dedicated exercise. The gang's still all here...

So.

food:

Did you know that if you mix two cans of pumpkin with a box of Betty Crocker butter pecan cake mix and bake in muffin tins for 20 minutes that it creates magic? When you eat it, think "pancake." Don't dare think "maple" because it will ruin your life. I don't know if it's healthier than the real thing, but.. pumpkin. That counts for something.

Today, I ruined a soup with the wrong cheese. With the wrong cheese that cost $11. Which I almost put back, because.. $11. FOR CHEESE? And now it's a fibrous, stiff $11 blob in the bottom of the pot, which I forlornly abandoned. I had to walk away. I'm shunning it and hoping it turns into something else, but it won't*. Because I bought the wrong cheese.

kids:

So I walked upstairs with the very last Reese's Egg...to drown my sorrows about the soup. Henry heard me opening it.. He asked what it was, and with some fumbling and hesitation, I blurted out, "Toilet soap."

...toilet soap?

I feel 1% guilty. Both kids have been sick, anyway. At this tender juncture, a Reese's might still be ill-advised.

Last Wednesday night, I heard Henry cough a few times. I casually fumbled my way down to his room to give him a little cuddle and some water. As I gently caressed his blonde hair, it was... wet. And chunky.

Just as his load of laundry was finishing up, the power went out.

About 15 minutes later, I heard Harper cry out, and I thought, "Oh.. her nightlight. No posse of projected ceiling Disney princesses to protect her." Except when I fumbled my way down to her room, barf also.

The power came on around 4 a.m. The good news is, I was already awake, cleaning up the hurl that happened every hour on the hour, to turn off all the random appliances that come to life and normally scare the wits out of people in such a situation.

It was the world's longest stomach bug. Today is the first day they've even mustered the energy to be annoyed by each other.

 

I've been letting them watch some TV while they convalesce. This is how Henry watches TV. It's relaxing for everyone involved.

Maybe the end of blogging directly correlated with his being confidently mobile. Or being Batman. Because this is how Batman looks right before he unassumingly steps backwards off of a skyscraper. Which Henry did, without warning, about 5 seconds after I took this.

exercise:

I've done the first month of T-25 three full times. Most recently, I had to take a three week hiatus because I fiercely kicked a solid wood Melissa & Doug alligator push toy and am now minus one big toenail for sandal season. Eh. It's not a race, mostly because it's just jumping up and down. I know all the choreography by heart. Like Britney at the 2007 VMAs.

*The soup was fine. The cheese totally dissolved. Excellent soup. Excellent cheese. Amen.

Pumpkin Patch 2013

In our family, "fun" family outings go like this:

Thursday -
Me: We should go to [insert all manner of outings which should serve beer. including, but not limited to: museums, zoos, parks, gardens, pumpkin patch or pretty much anywhere with a bouncy house or requires copious amounts of hand sanitizer] this weekend!
Brandon: Yeah. Harper would love it.

Friday -
Me: ((checks weather & website for any excuse to default on said fun)) Ah oh. It's looking like good weather and, oh great, not prohibitively expensive, either.
Brandon: Yeah. Harper will love it.

Saturday Morning -
Henry: from crib: "Maaaaaahmaaaaaa!"
Me: Yesss... it's Saturday. Wait.. oh no. Fun day.
Brandon: ((silence all morning.. hates all the things.))
Harper: omggggg!

Whatever it is always ends up actually being OK. Sometimes, dare I say, fun.

So, with that, the Phillips Reluctantly Do Pumpkin Patch '13


Harper getting her jump on while I stifle the mental image of her flying off of that thing like a cannonball should she get 'popped' by someone who weighs more:

In our family, we always do things the easy way - like putting on shoes, for example:

 

Harper on the hayride:

 

This is what Harper does when I tell her to smile for a picture. Obviously, I'm waiting with bated breath for her official preschool portraits:

 

 

Henry doesn't fancy shenanigans. Shenanigan #1: Seated too far from the tractor. Not amused.

 

 

Blue Steel. 

 

 

The only other picture of him that wasn't a blur.

 

 

Then this, x 27 or so. Henry, meanwhile, not pictured and..not amused.

 

 

Finally, a typical family portrait.

 

 

 

 

Possibly Unpopular Opinion of the Week

I love words. In fact, I have a hard time reading novels because I get word envy.

word envy - n. unwarranted jealousy experienced by me when an author uses a stronger, more descriptive word than expected.

Also, I acknowledge that a well-developed vocabulary nearly extinguishes the need for... "swear words."

However, I believe with my whole heart that there is a time and a place - wherein there exists no substitute - to fervently drop the f-bomb.

ironically 30.

I guess it's just like a stupid almost 30 year old to wax nostalgic about their "fleeting" youth instead of enjoying it, but. . .

 No one told me that at 30, I'd still feel like a kid:

Still making snap decisions with my heart and gut instead of experience. Shouldn't I know what to do, by now?

Still choosing sides, still lying awake, wondering if I chose correctly. Shouldn't I know who to trust, by now?

Still needing encouragement and reassurance when it looks like I'm doing o.k, anyway. Why can't I just do it 'my own self,' yet?

Still failing to stand up for myself, even when I know I'm right.  How haven't I learned to spit it out?

Still worried about how others judge me & how I judge others. Isn't there only One opinion that matters?
 
Still wondering what I'll be and what I'll do, even though that's now. Will I ever know an opportunity when I see it?

Still watching others hurt and hurting with them, knowing I can do little to affect it. Where is this thick skin of which people speak and shouldn't I have it, by now?

Still sticking my foot in my mouth and giving my opinion when it isn't wanted. Why hasn't my foot gotten smaller in 30 years?

Still feeling the sting of rejection and of others' words and actions, even though it's nothing new. Shouldn't I see that coming after all this time?

Still trying to grow up, while I watch two babies run and laugh and play together and learn and fall and get back up and ...grow up. 

Maybe being a 30 year old kid isn't so bad after all.  

she lives for the applause

 

 

I liberty the claws, the claws, the claws

I liberty the claws claws, liberty the claws claws

The way the chinchilla squeaks at me

I liberty the claws, the claws, the claws.

to the republic, for which it stands.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I've never thought to teach Harper the Pledge of Allegiance. Honestly, my job felt done after she began confidently belting out the chorus of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

The good news is, she's been in preschool for a couple of weeks, and I think they say it every day, because today, she taught it to me:

I pleasure to the flag

the united city and God

where the witches stand

God and liberty

and just for kids.

if your mass is huddled.

Give me your tired, fussy preschoolers,
hungry husbands yearning for the weekend,
the restless moms combing a disorganized refrigerator,
send these, the busy Southern families, to me.
I'll have them to dinner and bed by 7:15.

I feel oppressed by recipes. And confused (not by directions, but by my ability to follow it flawlessly and still, catastrophe at my hands). Basically, recipes stir up teenager emotions I shouldn't have to deal with just one month shy of turning 30. And yet. . .

This is one y'all need in your arsenal for sick kids, sad friends, unexpected guests and to combat the general malaise that blankets the South when temperatures dip lower than 50 degrees for more than thirty consecutive days.

Chicken and Pastry

Some do dumplings - Bisquick and milk. that's all - but today? Frozen Pastry. I promised 7:15, remember?  A true Southern woman would call this a bastardization of such a hallowed dish, but.. 7:15.

Ingredients:

Two boxes of prepared chicken stock.

One box of water, maybe two (as in, fill the empty box with water and pour it in)

5, 6, or 7 chicken bouillon cubes, depending on your blood pressure.

meat (white or white and dark) from one pre-cooked rotisserie chicken.

1 can cream of chicken soup

1/2 white onion chopped finely.. undetectable-to-kids-finely.

1 or 2 chopped carrots

1 or 2 chopped stalks of celery

1/2 package of Annie's frozen pastry. (all Southern grocery stores carry this, or some brand of frozen pastry. Not puff pastry, for the love of Paula Deen. Plain pastry. Ask someone who works there and tell them why you need it. McLib's dehydrated pastry also works well. I can't even believe I'm saying this, but for those reading this above the Mason-Dixon Line, you can use egg noodles. But then it's chicken noodle soup. Still good, but not what we're doing here.

2 bay leaves (fairly unnecessary and not worth dragging toddlers to the grocery store if you don't have it)

1 big squeeze of honey, or two tablespoons if you don't buy that cute little bear. It adds depth. Who doesn't buy the bear?! A fancy adult who buys raw, local honey I am not.

Pepper to taste.. more salt if your blood pressure is medically controlled and/or don't care if your wedding rings fit the next day.

Directions:

1. Put on an apron and a serious face, like you're doing something difficult.

2. Pour stock and water in large pot you use for soup. Add water or more stock until you get the amount you want. You'll want leftovers, because like most soupy foods, it's better the next day.

3. Get it hot and start adding bouillon cubes. Taste it. Add more.

4. Add chicken, cream of chicken soup, bay leaves, honey and veggies. **Before you put the water in the pot, you can cook the veggies in the bottom of the pot with a scant bit of olive oil until translucent if you're in a bonafide jerk to get it on the table in 20 minutes.

5. After the veggies are fairly well-done and everything has been at a rolling boil long enough that they look more the sum than their individual parts, start adding the frozen pastry. Slide it in piece by piece. Slowly. So they won't stick together. Patience, grasshopper.

6. Depending on the kind you use, cook according to the package. Frozen, dehydrated or, sigh.., egg noodles will be different.

7. When the pastry is cooked and all slippery-like, taste everything again. Add more bouillon, or salt, or honey.

Serve with crusty bread and sweet tea. The huddled masses will love you..or at least be quiet for 5 minutes while they eat.

hold your horses.

At the onset of stress, one can generally find me holed up in the garage haphazardly stapling geometric fabric to ..something, burning myself with a glue gun, spray painting basically any inanimate object off-white or constructing shoddy window coverings.

As I've chronicled here a few times, these projects don't typically pan out, but for once, the combination of tacky gold acrylic paint, zero patience and stencils didn't make my head explode.

I snort laughed when I finished it, because.. horses!

Who doesn't need to see this every single day!?

Type B does drapery.

1. Go to fabric store. Bring along 20 month old helper to paw at all breakables within reach.

2. Choose correct color in wrong weight because "eh, it'll do."

3. Despite extended measuring session perched atop rickety coffee table, purchase wrong length: because, really, who has time for step stool nonsense and lists?

4. Do not dare purchase lining fabric. No one sees the back, so who cares?

5. Allow fabric to remain in bag, mockingly, for approximately 3+ weeks or until threat of impending non-immediate-family dinner guests.

5. Unearth wrinkled fabric.

6. Do not prewash to account for shrinkage. Surely, neither peanut-butter-wielding, banana smearing, Crayola Picasso will ever have interest in 96 inch fabric sweeping tantalizingly from ceiling to floor.

7. Halfheartedly iron out wrinkles. Do not refill water reservoir when depleted. Just keep going.

8. Eyeball most precise length, use no pins, begin sewing immediately and as quickly as the machine will go.

9. Cuss some or lots. Give up and sew a pillow cover instead.

10. Drag out project many days as to avoid hanging the rod, which requires collection and use of stud finder, hammer and drill, which are all lost.

11. Post first blog in months about it. Naturally, include no pictures or address extended absence.

Possibly Unpopular Opinion of the Week

You, with the Old Navy flip flop hot glued to your puffy deco mesh wreath - You realize you just decorated with an adult rubber shoe, right? A shoe.

Yank that thing down and put it on your foot before a beach-bound vagrant beats you to it.

Spring has sprung.

All week, I've been reading about great things to do with fabric scraps at in the fun lane. I've followed Holly's blog since I started blogging and I love absolutely everything she does to her home.

Today, she's hosting a link-up for everyone and their scrap project.

Though it be humble, here is my rag garland.  I've only been sewing for a month, so I don't have enough scraps to cuss a cat. 

If there was ever a project for me, it is this rag garland. You cut scraps - mine are about 8 inches long. Maybe about an inch and a half wide. I don't really know. I didn't measure them. And then you tie them in knots on a good thick yarn or rope. And then just throw it somewhere. 

It aligns wonderfully with my typical mantel decorating style - Shop the house and throw random things up there until it's a hazard to anyone standing underneath. Which is why I'll probably put that Spring banner somewhere else.

It's.just.too.tempting. Henry got a wild look in his eye as soon as I put it up. A yanking expedition is being planned. I know it.

And if for some reason this expertly(!) decorated(!) mantel causes you to think that I have it all together, the rest of the house is a wreck. Also, there's this. I'm just walking around with untied shoes. They're making a clicky sound on the floor. Like a 5 year old. 

And immediately down and to the right of the mantel, there's this:

Go forth and tie scraps.

Old School Blogging

Today, Theta Mom and The Miss Elaine-ous Life are encouraging us to go 'old school' and since I still find early 2000s hip-hop relevant and since I don't have anything nice to say today, this seems like a good fit. Y'all should do the same!

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?

Lawd have mercy. Living in Lee Hall at NC State with entirely too much time on my hands. Which I did not spend studying or going to class regularly. Like most 19 year olds, just generally making great decisions at every opportunity.

2. What 5 things are on your to-do list?

• Make drapes for the TV room.
• Fold the four loads of laundry currently piled on our bed.

Life-size Beast makes a cameo for comparison sake.

• Clean out my car. OMG. Goldfish propagation, y'all. 
• Decorate for Easter. Harper loves me more when I surprise her with seasonal decor.
• Install a new baby gate upstairs, which will make Henry love me less.

3. What are 5 snacks you enjoy?

It's not advisable for me to keep snacks in our house that I enjoy, because I would enjoy an entire box of said enjoyable snack. Things I trust myself with? PB2 and celery and cinnamon Chex with almond milk. What snacks do I want? Doughnuts, chocolate, cake and chocolate cake doughnuts.

4. Name some things you would do if you were a millionaire:

Pay off our house. Geez. Can you sleep at night until you do this?!

Buy a fancy-ass minivan substitute. 

Go to grad school and get all the degrees. I don't have to decide! I'm a millionaire!

Top off an education fund for our children - but not one where they turn 19 and have access to it. Have we discussed the decision-making abilities of 19 year olds? 29 year olds, for that matter? Heh. Am I even qualified to have these imaginary millions?

Contribute to solutions to problems dear to my heart.  For the love of humanity, please do your research when contributing to non-profits, y'all. 50% admin expense means you're paying for the CEO's fancy-ass minivan substitute and pumping their child's trust fund.

Save the rest to take care of us and our families if they need it. 

Also, buy an enormous TV for the garage. Because I'm a millionaire and can watch Vampire Diaries while I elliptical, if I want. 

5. Name some places you have lived:

Raleigh NC, Milwaukee WI, Washington DC and my hometown, Fayetteville NC. You can tell that I'm kind of a big deal.

6. Name some bad habits you have:

Procrastination, not putting things away after I'm done with them, blogging when I should be folding laundry. ((Beast gives best come-hither stare))

7. Name some jobs you have had:

I have been a cashier at a grocery store, where I contracted strep throat 6 times over the course of 1.5 years because people and their groceries and their money are dirty. 

I have been a scorekeeper for youth sports, where I learned that I will never pressure my children to play sports.

I've been a student fundraiser and trained callers for the NC State Annual Fund, where I learned that hardworking farmers and their money are easily parted for worthy causes. 

I've been a fundraiser for United Way & The Children's Inn, where I learned that there are some problems that money can't fix. 

And Mom..where I've learned that I know nothing.

8. Name those you are tagging for #OSBlog:

Y'all, I don't do the Twitters. Saying funny things is too hard. Especially if you're going to limit my characters. Furthermore, I don't subscribe to pretending to have Twitter on Facebook.  #Befunnywithoutahashtag.

I'll still tag my frans, though, because both deserve to go viral and blow up. Or do those things in the opposite order. I don't know which. 

Tiffany at Hard Lacquer and Karrie at Life From Here