Archive for the ‘ Fia Friday ’ Category

Em Is Out To Lunch, Literally

Thursday, August 29th, 2013

This may be the most relaxing lunch date I’ve had in a long time.

After spending the morning at a playspace with my friend Jill Simonian (and blogger of The Fab Mom), we took our four kids to lunch. 

I’m not sure why all our kids were so well behaved, but it truly was one of my more civil experiences. And when things got really quiet, I looked to my left and there was Em, sound asleep. In his broccoli pasta.

The most active kid can fall asleep anywhere. In fact, he continued to sleep as I walked two blocks to the car, holding him and Fia in 100-degree heat. Then he slept through the transfer to the car seat in a sweltering 200-degree car, the ride home, and yet another transfer into his crib. He also continues to prove as energetic as he is, his attitude is purely laid back.

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Xanax on Mother’s Day? Maybe…

Sunday, May 12th, 2013

On Friday I was thinking that sitting in a corner taking Xanax might be the perfect Mother’s Day for me. This, after Emmett peed on my leg like I was a fire hydrant (he was naked as I was about to put him in the bath). Then giggled.

The day only got better.

I had to take Wayne to the vet. And Emmett. And Fia.  As I was being told Wayne once again is obese, and no longer my Biggest Loser, Emmett took a pack of crayons and threw them at the cat. Of course this spooked Wayne and fur went flying. Once again, Em laughs. Fia starts screaming “Emmett, don’t do that.” The vet looked at me and said, “Let me get the receptionist to start working on your bill so we can get you out of here quickly.”  Clearly I’m their favorite client. I bribed Fia with a lolipop and Em with his pacifier to just sit the f-ck still.

When we got home I gave Wayne a treat in his bowl. I turned my back for a second. Emmett came running out of the room with the ceramic bowl, threw it across the room where it shattered, then began laughing. He may actually be insane. But insanely happy too. This all happened before 11 a.m.

Do I deserve Xanax? Yes. Maybe 5.

Regardless of how I celebrate my day, I figured posting pictures would help calm me down. And it does. So here goes. I’m taking the rest of the weekend off.

Happy Mother’s Day, Everyone!

Okay, so maybe he looks a little like a barking seal in this picture. After all, we were at the zoo. But I just love how happy he looks. Man, did I get a good one (except that he is WILD)! Pure joy, this boy.

Emmett’s first carousel ride. Clearly he hates it.

Fia on her favorite giraffe!

Both of my babies.

At friend Lazlo’s birthday party

Bubble Time

Alone on the high beam–and giving me a heart attack!

Water play!

 I know I’ve posted this before, but I can’t help but do it again: my beautiful boy!

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Bad Mom Day and Toddler Mischief

Saturday, April 27th, 2013

Fia, Emmett, and I were all in the kitchen this morning. I was trying to juice a bunch of oranges Phil (finally) picked from our tree. I had been bugging him for a week. When he was done, he announced he was going back to bed. Oh, okay.

So I am trying to keep the kids distracted and alive. Em was playing with a box. No big deal, right? Until…I look over and Fia is trying to close him up in it.

“Fia! You can’t do that!” I screamed. Then….”actually, hold that pose while  I take a picture.”


“Okay. Fia!!!! You can’t do that!”

Ten minutes later I’m washing away the mess of a cheap juicer breaking while grinding 50 oranges to produce a half quart. A lot of work for little payoff. There is a cabinet below and to the right of my sink that we don’t use (it’s gross/in disrepair) but Emmett often likes to open and close it. I hear Emmett whimpering but  I can’t see him anywhere.

“Fia, where is Emmett?”

She shrugs.

I hear the sound again. I look down and this is what my crazy boy has gotten himself into:

“Oh, poor baby!” I say. “Come here…no, wait.”

I grab my phone.


“Hugs sweetheart. It’s okay. Mommy’s got you.”

Then we all drink orange juice. Phil remains in bed.

One hour later I look over and well, you know the drill…Benign neglect at its best.

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How I Calm Down After a Tough Week

Thursday, April 18th, 2013

It’s been a stressful and also tragic week in many parts of the country. From the Boston Marathon bombings, to the town in West, Texas, to the defeat of the Senate gun bill (yes, shameful and shocking). At times like this, I find it helpful to take pause and look at the pure joy of my kids. I hug them and my pulse instantly slows down.  My heart warms up. My gratitude that they are safe, loved and healthy overflows. Here are a few snapshots from our week.

We may be Californians but the boy still represents (even though technically we aren’t Yankee fans)!

Heading into the sprinkler:

A pensive Fia working on her bubble machine:

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Why I Feel No Mom Guilt Right Now…

Thursday, March 28th, 2013

I wrote my post this week about having this nagging sense of guilt whenever I leave my kids.  I had some great comments from moms who validated how I feel. Whether right or wrong, it’s nice to know you’re not the only insane one.

Then this morning I think I figured out how to NOT feel guilty: Push yourself to the absolute limit of supermom. Then your psyche won’t f–k with you and throw guilt your way. Instead, it will tell you to flee as soon as the sitter arrives. Don’t look back. Go! Which I did.

Now I am sitting here having my haircut and colored. The gray is out of control. The back looks like a mullet. After this, I am going to get my hooves–the thing most people call feet–pedicured. My hands will get a much-needed manicure. Then my husband and I are going out to dinner and to our favorite massage place. I don’t feel badly at all. The reason? Because when you spend almost all week with your kids, culminating in today’s cluster-f–k you are so ready for a break all guilt goes out the window.

We started the morning off as usual: Up at 6:30. I made eggs for them; Emmett splattered his on the floor. Fia started coloring and Emmett tried to take her crayons. He pulled her hair (his latest thing). She started wailing. This is in addition to the usual 7 head bumps he has from knocking against our table, the face plant that inevitably leads to a bloody lip at least 3 times a week and the screams of agony from them both for taunting the cat to the point of getting scratched.











Around 10, I needed to get out. We live right near Griffith Park that has just about everything. I figured the little train and pony ride would be easier than the massive zoo. We loaded up and drove down the hill.

A lot of it was great. Emmett had his first horse ride. I walked beside him, stepping in horseshit with my flip-flops. 

Then we went to ride the train. The ticket line was a mile long. We waited. And waited. We were getting close when Fia said, “Mama I have to go to the bathroom. I can’t hold it.” Crap. We left the line and ran across the parking lot so she could go pee. I dangled Emmett in one arm so he wouldn’t lick the bathroom floor. The kid is a menace. A cute one, but good god he never stops. He is into everything. This is what it means to have a boy. I had no idea.

After the bathroom Fia decided she wanted something to eat before the train ride. We stood in the longest, most inefficient line run by the Parks and Rec department. We finally got our turn. All she wanted was cheese fries. While they were apparently growing and cutting up the spuds to fry, Fia took off running and did a face plant right on the concrete. Shit. She starts bawling. My sciatica has been acting up. But being supermom, I had no choice. I picked them both up and walked back across the parking lot to the car.  I grabbed the stroller and plopped Fia in. Though Em is the one I really need to chain down.

Throughout this I remained calm. Even chipper. I deserve an Emmy.

We went back to get our food. I sat down and took a bite. The cheese fries were spicy. WTF? The sign didn’t say “spicy cheese fries.” But they are. You know, that fake nacho kind? Maybe they won’t notice. Wrong. “Mama, it’s too spicy!” Fia screamed. Emmett just threw his glob on the sidewalk where it won’t disintegrate for a century (did you know Velveeta can survive a nuclear attack? And that when they make it in the factory it’s a big gray gelatinous rectangle? In case you weren’t sure, the yellow color is fake.)

I’ve been trying to do this Mediterranean diet to keep healthy. Gloppy, goopy fake cheese is definitely not on the list. But what can I do? I sit there slowly licking blobs of cheese off, handing them the fries. It may have been the best part of my day.

Time for  the trains, then home. The ticket line is gone. Thank god. We  go up to the window. “Closed for lunch.”  Cue the wailing. I drag my now overtired, still hungry, hot, injured daughter and son to the car. I sit down as pain shoots through my lower back. I text my sitter. “Can you come tomorrow morning?”

Oh, I broke down and also got an ice cream sandwich. Emmett’s first. What a milestone!


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