Little Miss Wild Thing

Della, 3 months

Pageants confound me. Especially little girl pageants. Why would you want to do that? Why would you want your little girl to be so vested in her beauty? On the other hand, it’s oddly compelling, a freak show that I’m more than happy to watch.

We were at the breakfast buffet at the hotel in Albuquerque. There were lots of little girls with rollers/curlers in their hair. Della asked what they were all doing.

Matt said, “Let’s find out!”

He went to a nearby table where there were two mothers with their daughters. One of the mothers had diamelles embedded in her eyelids. I think I made that word up. But seriously, she had on eyeshadow up to her hairline and gemstones were glued to her face BEFORE BREAKFAST?! Both daughters, a bit older than Della, were in curlers and morning wear. Matt approached them, all dimples and charm, with a litany of questions. He was gone for awhile.

He came back to the table and Della was gone, getting some more whipped cream.

“Those gals are not f@$%@&g around.” he said to me.

I had a feeling they weren’t...with the jewels glued to her face and all.

"There’s a pageant in the hotel today. Mom was once fourth runner up in Miss Texas and the little blond girl has been competing since she was three months old."

THREE MONTHS?!

Three months? Wow. I can’t get past this. I think of Della at three months. All that really comes to mind are sore nipples (mine, not hers), bright yellow explosive diapers, and a very grubby sling that could probably have used laundering after three leaky babies had called it home. There was some sleep deprivation involved, and if I remember correctly, there was still a concern that the D might be cross-eyed.

And we could have been competing?

Well, shit.

I can glue diamonds to my face as good as the next girl and there’s no time like the present, now is there, to strut our pageant stuff. Patton style. Let’s do this thing.

Della and I take a little stroll.

Sure enough. There is a room full of women with big hair getting ready to bust some self esteem. A grandmother is sitting on a bench in the hall with her contestant. She points at Della and whispers something. I give her a very serious look and wish that I had combed my hair this week.

“What’s her talent?” she asks me, no prelude at all.

'Whipping ass and taking names' is my first thought, but I say, very nonchalantly... “Well, when Whitney passed earlier this week, Della decided to arrange a tribute of her greatest hits, pre-Bobby Brown. Her voice was at it’s strongest then, of course. She accompanies herself on the piano and will then give a brief, but moving speech against drug use. And your talent?”

"Oh. She yodels and plays the saxophone.”

Della looks up at me. “Didn’t I do that when I was three months, Mom?”

"Excuse us,” I say "I left the hot glue gun in the car.”

And then I leapt into the air with a flying round house kick to a large vase of blue carnations on the registration table, and Della let out a blood curdling banshee cry and we fled the scene.

The End.

wild animals...us and them

 “Ma’am? Is that your child inside the enclosure?"

"I have no idea who that kid belongs to." I say

"MOM!?!?!!” says the child inside the enclosure.

{Lewis actually KISSED this howler monkey. I think that’s frowned upon in certain circles.}

Our dress code for the day was ‘white trash’. I think we pulled it off. 

"OMG! He’s totally going to eat you!" I yell.

All the other kids go crying to their mom. Mine just look at me. They know.

"Thanks for clearing the room, Mom.” says Max, totally annoyed with the weekend crowd. 

No problem.

It’s winter break for us. We’ve been in Albuquerque with Granne, Grandaddy and the cousins. Oh what fun! I took the kids to the zoo and aquarium. We went to a Japanese steak house with flames and flying knives. We terrorized the hotel pool. There was diarrhea and vomit. Della was crowned Little Miss New Mexico. Not really, but it was amusing to contemplate. 

More tomorrow.

a message

I received a message from the great tea bag in the sky. I have a friend who doesn’t ‘read’ me. She has to deal with me in everyday life, and that’s probably about all she can stomach.

But this one’s for you, girl.

Honor your soul.

If you find a frozen tea bag in your mailbox, it’s because I love you.

Have a good weekend, all my dears, out there!

big love

I love Valentine’s. I love 'love'. I love red with hot pink, and hearts, and the very thought of choosing a day to love those around us. I don’t see it so much as a romantic holiday, but the celebration of love, in general.

I got it in my head that I was going to have a Valentine’s party for Della and all her little girlfriends. An afternoon of crafts and tea party-ing. I was having a hard time pulling the trigger, but it was on simmer on a back burner in my mind. I had shared with Della that we would do something special, and of course, she was excited. Sometimes, I find that I have to back out of my grand plans a bit, scale back and rethink what will be comfortable and special, but not daunting for me. I did this the other day. Not 15 little girls, with teen helpers, but 4 girls total. No theme food, just our favorites. Even searching the blogosphere for awesome craft ideas can derail me. Will I ever be that hip and organized? No, is the answer. I decided to keep it simple.

I walked into Walmart yesterday, and if your looking for inspiration to pull back and use what you have on hand, then that’s a good place to start. I see the aisles of disposable holiday paraphernalia that will be obsolete in the morning, and multiply that by every Walmart in every town across the planet and yikes!

Of course, I’m on a budget, too. I stuck with my guns and bought the one thing that I needed. (and couldn’t find elsewhere)

Doilies. I do love doilies. I also got a bag of pink and red M&M’s. And ran.

SO..... from decorations scabbed together from around the house and a menu straight from my own childhood, I bring you a Valentine’s fandango that cost about five dollars. The doilies were a dollar and the candy was maybe three. The rest I had already.

 I put pink yarn scarves on the thrift store duck napkin rings and voila! they are Valentine’s ducks. R. Wood cupcake plates are perfect for any occasion. I worked there many moons ago and count it as one of my all time favorite jobs...if you could even call it that! We use it as our everyday pottery. Place cards make things feel festive and formal. My mom would say that I need some greenery and I would agree, but I’ve only got snow.  

You knew I would hang something from the ceiling, didn’t you? Hello doilies! Sorry, but I had to do it. Dinner is simmering on the wood stove over there. The boys are out skiing in some major powder, because they were not invited per Della, and will be starving when they arrive.

         

We have a few heart shaped rocks hanging out around here....isn’t he looking fine in the nest? On a doiley.

On the menu....Weezie’s pound cake with whipped cream and strawberries, and cucumber sandwiches.
These are our other favorite plates from my fabulous sister in law.  Order here.

And tea, of course. This is Tiger Tea. (herbal Bengal spice) I poured in milk and a bit of honey. I need a sweet little tea pot, don’t I? The mason jar, however, makes the perfect amount for four little girls. 

Della wanted to show the girls a freaky frog video.  And then onto some very laid back crafts.

They painted, made pom poms, and hot glued valentine barrettes. 

Then they ate every strawberry in the house and wanted more cake. OK.

And then we put it all in a bag with their place card and called it a day. Oh these girls are darling. I just love listening to the things that come out of their mouths. They are so wide eyed and funny and willing to do and create and learn. And smart as whips. I’ll party with them anytime!

Happy Valentine’s All!

weekending

 lots of snow remediation

 wait. is this futile?

 more narhwal shenanigans.

 shenanigans, in general.

 12 year old craft project

 logos anyone?

 we change bedrooms around here, like most people change underwear.

now della and lew are roomies, and max has a rainbow room. 

 night swimming and hot tubbing

and i leave you with this. 

hope your weekend was ridiculous.

joining amanda!

winter wonderland and of course, i’ll marry you...again

Hello dears.

Some of you are fretting that I have abandoned my husband.

Not happening.

I’m just not near as poetic as he is, and it’s been daunting to reply. 

I also started thinking back to when we first met and have started writing down that path. 

But let’s address the letter.

Will I marry him? Again?

Of course. 

He wants to do it in the shadow of our favorite oil refinery, which sounds lovely to me.

That’s here.

Manhattan Beach, CA 

He asked if I needed a new ring.

My slim gold band came from a pawn shop in Edinburgh. I wear it on my right hand because that’s where it fits, and it’s never come off. Never will, either.

You’ve probably guessed that I’m not a 'big fat diamond' kind of gal. If, for some weird reason, I decided I did need one, I’d get a fake one and pretend it was real, because the money could be spent in much more interesting ways. 

However, my dear, if you’re feeling that we need some symbolism, I can point you in the right direction. This ring sings to me. It has my name written all over it...and yours. 

A honeymoon? Can we bring the kids? I’m only sort of joking and he knows it.

But Matt was totally messing with me when he suggested Houston’s and the Doubletree. He knows that drives me crazy!!! We travel to Los Angeles, a cultural melting pot of supreme style and funk and he wants a Hickory Burger at Houston’s! (it’s an upscale national chain that is always very yummy, but...!!??)

 All I want is to find a funky Korean 

neighborhood, where I can’t read the signs or the menu, and to order something bizarre and fiery that I have neither seen nor heard of before. 

Is that the key to good marriage? Balancing the steady and the sizzle?

Can we compromise, my dear?

We could eat here and stay here.

And then there is option number three, which involves three kids. Why does that sound so right?

How ‘bout Malibu? Tidal pools, movie stars, and camp sites on the beach? We could hang twinkly lights and grill shrimp on the barbie after a long day of beach combing.....

The future with you is always fun to think about. The possibilities are limitless. 

There are two beers in the snow waiting for us.

Let’s chart our course.

how to negotiate with your contractor

From concept to reality, building a house is a long and arduous process. It can take weeks! Even a month, sometimes! There are certain expectations, lots of deadlines, and always there are glitches. Matt has built two houses from the ground up and remodeled many more.

This house was a little different, because he was working with a very opinionated and impatient home owner. She was a pleasure, but indecisive. She would change her mind at the drop of a hat.

And then there is the ever tricky issue of payment. They negotiated a payment plan that works well for both parties.... Unconditional love for the next, let’s say, fifty years or so.

To be delivered in nose kisses.

An interior designer has been called in. We’ll have an ‘open house’ in the very near future.

saturday night

the path to the grill

the moon

a cozy little house

a rock

(a big one)

a glass of wine

a box of old pictures

the stories that go with them

sizzling steaks

the ever burning wood stove

garlic-y caesar

van and a little tupelo honey

be cozy.

Love Letter

NOTE: 

Ivey asked me (Matt, the husband/father guy) to write something for Durango Mom. She mentioned subject matter such as child psychology, positive reinforcement, discipline issues, or other self-help type stuff for which I am almost famous. 

"Actually," she said,  "you just write whatever you want." 

So here goes:

Dear Ivey,

I need to ask you something very important. I know you read your own blog, so I thought this would be a good place to leave this letter. I hope it is not too public a forum, but what I need to address truly demands that I shout it from the rooftops. There has been something on my heart for a quite a while now. You and I have discussed it on various occasions, but the time has come to put it out there, and make it real, once and for all. 

We did something 15 years ago that changed our lives forever. We met up in Edinburgh, Scotland, over a greasy basket of chicken Q (a bizarre fried chicken dish that is blood red in color and sold at all the finer fish and chip joints) at a Wharfside Inn (it was on the fourth at the firth of Forth), where you agreed to marry me after eight years of trekking together. 

We jumped into our rental car, evaded the angry grasp of the Eco-Pirates (’nother story), and scoured the Scottish Highlands for a kindly priest to marry us... but, to no avail. I recall us being told that we needed proof that we weren't  related…as in kin? Is that a big problem in Scotland?  So we returned Stateside and I called your Dad to ask permission ('GOD KNOWS  MATT, YES... AND IT'S ABOUT TIME!), and then we packed up the Ford Aerostar (our home away from home…complete with futon and a place for Ruby) and headed for the Big Easy. Louisiana offers the best and quickest means of elopement, as well as a fun place to celebrate, so that's where we went. It was St Patrick's Day, 1997,  and we arrived at the Judge's chambers In Metairie, 

and sealed the deal. I was so nervous that I forgot to look at you as I repeated my vows. It felt patently odd, looking at a strange man in a black robe and stating with full and utter solemnity that I would love and cherish you..him?, until death do us part. Awkward!  Anyway, it was fun, but incomplete. I realize,15 years and three kids later, what is missing. 


I think we should do it again, but this time we'll invite God. 

 So (clear throat, take a knee), Will you marry me? Again?  (wow, there goes the heart rate; and, oh, do I need another ring?)

The last thing your mom said to me as we headed off to New Orleans, was, "Matt, are you sure you won't consider having a simple church ceremony?"  So what do you say?  How bout we do a weekend of nuptial sanctification? (sounds mildly salacious, actually.)  Shouldn't we recognize and celebrate the divine intervention that inevitably takes place in a successful marriage? And wouldnt it be fun to eat wedding cake, and go on a real honeymoon?

I am pretty sure you will accept, but if you need to think about it, that's fine. I will tell you the truth; If, by some bizarre stroke of utter misfortune,  you were to decline, well, then, I would really be in trouble.(..even though technically, we'd still be married.) I have all my eggs in your basket, and would probably really struggle to survive (philosophically speaking, that is).  It would be the end of the world as I know it, and I am quite sure I would not feel fine. 

How I feel about you, about marrying you, is summed up in this great quote:

"You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person who you cannot live without." 

That’s me; that's us.

I am thinking a beach wedding…maybe in the shadow of our favorite oil refinery.... a quick honeymoon in Santa Monica. Maybe Houston's and the Doubletree? You ready?

Thank you, Baby, for all these good years, for all these good children. Let’s add on (years, that is…)

You are my gal, and I love you.

Matt

powder room power

I never know what’s going to happen when I leave the house. Someone is always up to something. I came home the other night from skiing and the bathroom was different.

Motivational support, I guess you could call it.

Or is it a direct order?

Not sure.

I wish it said ‘lift the lid’ and ‘aim precisely’ but it wouldn’t carry the same graphic punch, now would it?

On an unrelated note, Matt (the husband) is writing the next post, so brace yourself. For what, I do not know. Possibly adolescent psychology, possibly toilet art, possibly discipline, and maybe none of the above.

We’ll just have to wait and see.

If you want a serious dose of awesomeness then DO NOT FAIL to check out Dad’s are the Original Hipsters. I laugh so hard. It’s a recipe for comedic success....the way we take ourselves so damn serious these days, as if we were the first generation to ‘get it’. And the truth is plain as day. Our Dad’s were rocking it all, long before we came along. People send in old pictures of their old man and this guy adds the captions. Read it and weep.Some are better than others, and my brand of funny is probably a little off kilter, but I think it’s genius.  It’s in the sidebar over there.

{this moment}...my last baby

Taken this morning. It could go today. She is so excited. She is quite late in the tooth losing department. I joke with her that we’ll put her in the Guinness book for oldest child on earth with all her baby teeth. But I guess not. The tooth fairy will come with a few jangly quarters, and the tooth will live in my jewelry box with all the others. My most precious jewels for sure.

Oh we swell with love for this one. All of them, of course. But you know what I mean.

Happy weekend.

durango

Here we are.

If you’re thinking of moving any time soon
Here is some food for thought.

Last year Durango was voted....

+ Best Places to Live 2011 (Men's Journal)
+ Best Place to Put Your Outdoor Life First (Men's Journal)
+ Top Micropolitan Area in the US (Politicom)
+ Top Ten Western Towns (True West Magazine)
+ Top 200 Town in the US (Outdoor Life Magazine)
+ Top 10 "Life is Better Here" Town (Outside Magazine)
+ "Next Big Thing" (Outside Magazine)
+ Colorado's Secret Stash (Ski Magazine)


(Thank you Jamie Jo....I lifted this straight from you!)

Twinkle

If you haven’t gleaned it already, I’ll just go ahead and state it for the record. I like to hang things from the ceiling. It might go up for a special occasion, say a birthday or Christmas, and it just stays. Because more is better.

Matt has been an art machine lately. He should start a daddy craft blog. He’s actually just touching up a sign in this photo...he’s ski patrol here and the signs were just awful...so he pulled them down and gave them a serious face lift. He’s good that way. But hold on to your hats. When he gives me the go ahead, I’ll share his latest creation. Lots of late nights, lots of hot glue, and infinite patience....

He’s also close to finishing something with Lew that I can add to the ceiling collection. There’s something about winter and snow and a cozy wood stove burning ‘round the clock that is conducive to creativity.

Hope your firing on all cylinders these days!

the morning

from here

To say that I like coffee is like saying that I like my children. There aren’t enough words really. And I don’t want to bore you. The purpose of this post is to solicit help, as we have fallen into the coffee making doldrums. We’ve cycled through a french press, an espresso pot, a fancy coffee maker, and right now, a very cheap wal-mart pot. It’s leaving me a little low, but no lower than the aforementioned methods. Any hints, tips, or aha moments around the morning cuppa are welcome and wanted.

I love the picture above. I can almost smell that caffeinated mess!

Help me, please.

{I should say that I’m not capable of extremely anal details like the temperature of my water or the grind of my coffee, so don’t go there.....I am a simple gal who wants a decent cup of coffee without too much hooopla....}

snow

We woke up to the white stuff.

Within minutes this kid was on the sofa in the kitchen...fully dressed and ready to go. 

Here.

On a school day. 

Hooky is good.

Fixing this for dinner.

Be cozy.