My Easter Duck!


Easter is right around the corner and of course the Easter Bunny is set up at the mall. As we stood in line for our annual picture, it reminded me of this…

From May 13, 2013

Oh, the dreaded question this morning, “Mommy where’s your pee-pee?”

My standard answerer did not satisfy Azul’s curiosity, “Girl’s pee-pees are inside and boy’s pee-pees are outside.”

With a smile, he replied, “Let me see?” “No!” I said in a panic, “We’ll get a book!”

He was quiet for a second or two and then said, “When you take a picture with the Easter Bunny, that’s not the real Easter Bunny is it?”

Whew! Dodged that one!

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Gym Space

gym space

I do understand the whole “judgment free zone” thing, but really that’s not how I roll! So, the other day at the gym, I was on the treadmill which is near the back of the room with a good view of the other gym rats, all of us going nowhere on our elliptical machines, stationary bikes and treadmills. While running in place, yes sometimes I watch my contemporaries come and go and wonder what their deal is; why are they working out, what are they listening to, what do they do for a living which allows them to be at the gym at nine in the morning? Sometimes I make up scenarios for them, but I routinely do this to people no matter where I am. I’m just a people watcher and have an active imagination.

Well, this recent interaction, not with me, with two others I was watching left me confused. A couple of “guys” came in together, you know those guys at the gym who obviously need to be there, but act loud and obnoxious as if that behavior is going to distract you from the fact that they have disregarded their appearance since graduating high school. Well, those guys both got on elliptical machines, but skipped the one in between the two of them. Why?

Much of men’s behavior baffles me, but I think I might understand the “seat skipper” at a sporting event, but not at the gym. In stadiums the bucket seats are small and you are forced to be very close, so if there are enough seats available, just skip a seat. Right? Now, I am not a seat skipper, but I fit in a seat fairly comfortably and it doesn’t bother me to sit close to the person next to me either. Although I don’t do it, I can see why it is done.

Now back to the gym, these guys continue to talk to each other, but now they are breathing heavily and yelling in order to enable their voices to carry over the elliptical moat they’ve created. There is ample space between the machines and they are big enough to accommodate a large man, so why? Everyone knew they were there to work out together, they brought that attention upon themselves and then when they finished their 15 minute trek, they left together. So, they obviously weren’t afraid to be seen together and were friends.

Then shortly after they left, I watched two young women come in together and get on their sequential machines. They didn’t have to create a buffer zone between them and they were able to have a conversation we all didn’t have to hear. This made sense to me.

What’s the deal guys? I was so stricken by the “seat skipper” behavior, I forgot to make up a story for them. Still confused!

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Oh Canada…


This morning Azul’s topic of conversation was Canadians, eh. He started by saying, “I think it’s funny Justin “Beaver” got arrested!” We both laughed, for different reasons. I questioned and answered at the same time wanting him to continue his train of thought, with a, “Yeah?”

He then asked, “Why did he get in trouble?” I tried to explain from the little I knew, “I think he was speeding and was pulled over by the cops and then they found out he was drinking and driving or using drugs or something. And that is illegal and that is why he was arrested.” Again I will emphasize the “I think.”

“I bet he learned his lesson,” was the concerned five year-old’s response. I continued, “Well, he is from Canada and might get sent back.” With a slap on his own forehead and a sigh he said, “Oh man, he’s Canadian!” He said it more as a statement than a question. “Then he’ll really learn his lesson!” And we laughed.

He then asked, “What other rock stars are from Canada?” I said, “I don’t know, Rush, Alanis Morissette, Bryan Adams, those are all old guys, I can’t think of anyone who is younger and Canadian.” (Obviously showing my age) Immediately he responded, “Alanis Morissette is not one of my favorites.” I don’t think he even knows who she is. “I’m sure she isn’t,” I responded laughing and I didn’t even want to get into the whole Rob Ford thing, the only other Canadian I could think of right then. Then the conversation moved on to something he saw out the window. Whew! Eh!

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Caution: Don’t Eat The Grass!

don't eat the grass

This afternoon when I picked Azul up from Pre-school, we went through our regular question and answer routine, what committee were you in today, what song did you sing in music class, who hit who on the playground, same thing we do every commute home.

Once we finalized our afternoon formalities my five year-old said, “We need something to bring in that is like Spring.” Trying to clarify I said, “For show-n-tell?” He replied, “Yes something about Spring and I have an idea.” Testing him, I responded with sarcasm, “What, a snowman?” Laughing his response at me he said, “No crazy. I need you to get me a Tupperware and a top and I’m going to put grass in it. Grass means Spring.” I said, “Oh, awesome you want to bring in some vegetation.” I like to throw different words at him to expand his vocabulary. He usually throws something back at me to lower my expectations!

“Yes, that’s my idea. But, don’t eat the grass because sometimes I pee on it.” Closing my eyes and tilting my head back in amazement I replied, “Thanks for the warning.”

He then went on to explain the difference in how boys and girls pee on the grass. “Girls have to stick out their butts and go tsssss! Boys just stand and pee anywhere like this, tsssss!” Although correct, I hope he doesn’t go into the latter part of the grass explanation during his show-n-tell presentation.

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Watch Your Mouth


Azul has been tinkering with using “bad words.” He’ll say, “I’m going to tell you a funny story, but I have to say a bad word.” Immediately he puts his hand over his mouth ready to catch the foulness about to escape and stares at me wide-eyed. I usually shrug and answer, “A bad word? Okay, go ahead.” I am always curious as to what word he wants to use, which are usually not real bad words at all, so of course I’m going to say okay, not to mention I have a potty mouth and my five year-old is well aware of that fact.

Having a potty mouth is really an understatement — I cuss like a sailor. I’m not sure if it is hereditary, my mom says I had a great-grandmother who would make a grown man blush with her colorful dialect, or the nature of the business I worked in for years (pause, deep breath) — Radio.

Some of the dirtiest things you will never hear on the radio are said when the “on the air” light is off. I have always had a fairly liberal view of off-color language. If it’s used for emphasis or to make a point or to be funny, by all means use it, be creative but never hateful.

The rule I have always had to follow at work has been set up by the FCC (Federal Communications Commission), and when Azul is older, those will be the rules I will enforce in my own home as well, much to the dismay of my husband. So for now we will follow my husband’s rules, in that Azul can’t cuss. And whatever the reason is for my talented linguistics, it is what it is, and Azul knows he should not talk like me. In one instance he questioned these rules and I replied in the most kind and gentle mom voice I could muster, “I can talk like this because I’m a fucking adult and you’re a kid.” I might have used that “emphasis” only to get his attention, and it worked. Now he resorts to prefacing his “cussing” by asking for permission.

I may change my mind once I have to start doing detention at school with him for cussing.

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Degree in Boys

degree in boys

I have learned a lot about boys, and men for that matter, from my son Azul. He is now five years old and that is almost as much time as I spent finishing my undergraduate studies. So, I guess I am well on my way to getting my Bachelor’s Degree in Boys.

In this week’s class, my wise and competent professor said, “If you stand in one position for a long time, your feet and pee-pee get tickly.”

I was not aware of that fact, but now I am. This is quite an education I am getting.

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Azulism #12

Really, seriously? I don’t know where he has learned to talk like this!

Really Seriously

“Really, seriously…”


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Head Case

Azul suffered from a head injury this weekend.

head case

This was not his first head to floor duel, as an infant he rolled off the bed and landed on his head (this was my first official freak out as a parent), last year he fell off a chair at the kitchen counter and landed on his head (the sound of a head cracking on the tile floor was by far was the worst sound I have ever heard), but this was the first time I have had my wounded child delivered to my doorstep.

He was playing on the trampoline next door with his neighbor friend Nadia, like he has been doing on a weekly basis since she got the trampoline. I guess they were playing and the zipper door was not completely closed, so one jump too many and Azul flew through the opening like an arrow searching for its target. He landed head first on the decorative landscaping rocks.

When the doorbell rang only minutes after he had gone next door, I was immediately concerned and jumped up to answer the door. Of course it was chaos! Azul is crying and in our neighbor’s arms and her daughter is crying following along. As we do the pass off from one parent to the other, Nadia’s mom is explaining what happened and I look at his head and put him on the couch and grab a mother’s best friend, the ice pack. It was a big bump, but he was okay. An emotional Nadia and her mom headed back home. They did check on Azul later, he was recovering much better than Nadia who hadn’t stopped crying since the incident and now wanted the offending trampoline taken down.

While I was trying to make him comfortable, he yelled, “I just want some alone time!” He really didn’t like all the fussing over him and the extra attention we were giving him. All he wanted was the ice pack, some snacks and a movie. I was feeling a little concerned, but I was sure he didn’t suffer a concussion. Just then while feeling slightly more at ease and lying with him on the couch, in his weakened injured voice he said, “Can we just watch The Breakfast Club?”

Now, some may think that statement in itself is evidence of a serious head injury, but it made me feel better! He progressively felt better through the movie and at the end said, “Can we watch it again?” Maybe all his falls have knocked a few screws loose.

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Lucha Azul

Lucha AzulMost evenings while I am cooking dinner, there is a little time for me to have a break. The News is on TV at this time and once I get dinner going, I sit on the couch with my legs propped up and more than likely I have a drink in my hand. This is my happy place, my down time, the “me” time between playing with my five year-old and feeding my family.

Occasionally, and when I say occasionally, I mean if I’m lucky, Azul is bored with me by this point and goes into his room to play. This evening I was lucky. Ahhh! But all of a sudden he ran to me at full speed, stopped and breathing heavily he asked, “Do wrestlers wear shirts?” Oh, no! I thought, this means the clothes are about to come off! So, to stop the topless show before it even started I said, “Well, some wrestlers are fully clothed.” That’ll do it. I tricked him into keeping his shirt on.

He laughed at what I had said, with his mouth wide open and his head tilted all the way back. And once he regained his composure he asked, “Some just wear bigboys, right?” If you didn’t figure it out, bigboys are underpants or drawers or underwear or whatever nickname you gave your potty training toddler that has stuck through the years.

Recognizing my defeat and knowing there will be a shirtless boy in my near future, I said, “Yes, some just wear bigboys.” And in a flash he was gone!

To my surprise, upon his return he was yelling, “I am a wrestler!” Then I was attacked by a naked little boy. It was as if he had flown through the air from the top rope of a wrestling ring to pin me for a count of three. I yelled back, “Wrestlers aren’t naked!” Thinking, And if they are, there is usually some type of jello involved. There was no jello.

“Being naked gives you strength!” My nemesis retorted. He was right as I recoiled from his new-found power. He won!

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A Royal Something


This morning Azul said to me, “I’m pretty much treated like royalty.” Whoa — talk about out of the blue. Azul and I have about a twenty minute morning commute on the way to school. The conversations we share at this time are some if the best times we have all day, but I wasn’t expecting that.

Blinking my eyes and shaking my head, trying to understand why and what I just heard, I looked at him through my child rearview mirror. I wanted to watch him explain this. I replied, “You what?” He paused for a moment, and although he wasn’t talking, I could hear him thinking.

Finally he spoke up again, “Royalty. I don’t do anything. You do all the work. You drive, cook and set the table.” Appreciating the compliment, I said, “Thanks for recognizing that, my sweet boy!” I couldn’t help but think, Good for me. I am raising a very considerate boy who will turn in to a man who can recognize when things are done for him and not just assume that people are going to serve him, and then be able to appreciate it as well. Nice.

The euphoric thought bubble floating above my head busted when he followed up with, “It’s time I pay you off.” With a sigh and a smile on my face I asked, “Yeah, with what, cold hard cash?”

“No,” he said. “With money. I’ll give you 3 dollars.”

“Wow!” was my immediate response, and not only for the dollar amount, but for the transition from appreciated mom to paid servant. With pride and conviction he informed me, “I know it takes 4 or 5 quarters to make a dollar, I’ll give you that!”

Resigned and not sure if I just got a pay cut, I said, “Okay, I’ll take it.”

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Out of Gas…Again

Oh my, no more dirty car this year! That was what I thought when I decided to declare a resolution this year. Here is a status update:


This is what my car looks like three months in to 2014. It is worse! Now I resolve to never making any more New Year’s Resolutions.

Out of Gas… (Original post from December 2013)

I know this is the time of the year to reevaluate your life, nit pick your misgivings and come up with a resolution that will change your life for the better. Whatever! I have never been a big fan of New Year Resolutions; I usually try to just keep my expectations fairly low, it seems to work for me, but my five year-old was able to glaringly point out where I need to improve.


My car stinks! And that was exactly what I said to Azul this afternoon. To be fair, I have always had a dirty car, even before Azul, but no doubt the trash has grown exponentially since his birth.

I am a true Virgo and have a deep-seated need to straighten things out — things don’t need to be super clean, just in order. My car is the exception, the one place I can let loose.  So, I told my five year-old, “My car stinks!” And he replied, “Maybe it cuz I tooted in there!” In a state of amazement I then said, “You tooted in my car?” Without a second thought he said, “Yes.” I am not sure why I continued the conversation at this point, and come to think of it, I’m not sure why I do half the things I do now as a parent, but I said, “I didn’t hear it.” Immediately his response was, “Toots are quiet.” I put my head in my hands, shaking left to right, thinking, Oh my, no more dirty car this year!

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Spring Sucks!

Spring Sucks!

Tis the time of year to get back outside and start cleaning and prepping the yard for the summer! I love working in the yard and right now is perfect, it’s not too hot yet, but warm enough to enjoy the sun. I decided to start in the front yard and use my blower/sucker to remove all the old leaves from under the bushes and trees. I do like my blower/sucker because it also mulches. It’s a smaller machine which is perfect for me to handle and it has a big strap I can put over my shoulder so I can carry it easily. In order to use the mulch option you must have it in suck mode. So, there I am, in full suck mode in my front yard.

We live in a dry climate and we haven’t received much moisture this year, so as you can expect there is a lot of dust that gets kicked up. So, I’m out in the front, sucker on high and it is loud! I didn’t realize how many leaves were actually out there and I filled my first bag fairly quickly. I dumped the bag’s mulched contents in my compost pile and went back at it for round two.

After removing the top layer with my first trip, this second time around seems much dustier! And it’s so loud, you really can’t pay attention or focus on anything but directing the nozzle into the compacted ground. Also, this second bag isn’t filling up as fast as the first, which is weird. Then I looked up for a second and there is dust everywhere! What is going on? I thought. Then I looked down and I am covered in dust! I paused for a moment and was overwhelmed with the feeling of being a total jackass. You know, when all of a sudden everything comes together and you know exactly what’s wrong.

I turned the sucker back on pointed the nozzle to the ground, watched some leaves get sucked up and then shoot straight out the back of the bag in tiny little pieces! I forgot to zip the bag back up after I dumped my first load! Although, the damage was already done, and I had been out there for almost an hour, of course I looked around to see if anyone had seen me. I’ll never know, but one thing I do know now is spring sucks!

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Like Comparing Melons to Oranges

Melons and oranges

I spend a lot of time with my five year-old son and as a result, I feel we are kind of in sync with each other. It’s something that happens in all relationships, the more time you spend with someone the more you know exactly what they are talking about. Something magical happens, when you can finish each other’s sentences and an extended preface to a conversation is no longer needed.

Today, out of nowhere, Azul said to me, “If you give a pig a melon it will last 1 day, if you give a pig an orange it will last 100 days!” The what, the what?! I didn’t even know where to begin to be able to respond to that. But, I did wonder if I sound like that to him sometimes when I’m talking. Magic huh?

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Mommy’s The Worst

mommy's the worst

Azul has picked a new habit. Well, I’m not sure it’s a habit yet, but it is definitely a new behavior, and I’m not sure if my indifference to it is turning it into a habit. But what do I do?

So, when my five year-old gets mad or doesn’t get his way, he begins to march around, his brow furrowed, knees high in the air, bent arms swinging at his side, and feet firmly placed on the ground when they meet the floor (really, he would make any drill sergeant proud), proclaiming, “Mommy’s the worst! Mommy’s the worst!”

Now if this stems from some deep-seated need to protest authority, I’m okay with that. Or if he is a natural cheerleader, cheering for the good or the bad, just wanting to express himself, I’m okay with that too. And to be fair, I have also gotten the, “Mommy’s the best” — not quite as often, but it’s happened.

When the demonstration begins, it is a funny thing to witness and I haven’t taken it personally, but this is where the indifference comes in — should I do something or not react at all? If I get hurt over it (and really, parents should never show weakness to their children’s insults), I know he will continue to do it, or if I laugh at it (as I have at times in the past), he will continue to do it, or if I do nothing and just give him the “What you talking about Willis” look (yup, done that too), he will continue to do it. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I guess this is really what parenting is all about.

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Best Kids Valentine’s Day Cards Ever!

Valentine's Day Cards

Super easy and super cool, in five steps.

Step 1 – Take a picture of your child holding their arm out and their hand in a fist.

Valentine's Day Cards 1

If you would like to choose a theme it will add to the card. We chose Star Wars, of course. Print the pictures in 5×7 landscape style. Print as many pictures as you need cards. Yay! That was cheap and easy.

Step 2 - Gather all of your supplies. You will need:

Valentine's Day Cards 2The pictures


A hole punch

Lollipop sticks

Small plastic bags

Twist ties

Cookie cutters

And the ingredients for the Rice Crispy Treats (Rice Crispies, marshmallows and butter)

Done and done!

Step 3 – Prepare the cards.

Valentine's Day Cards 3

Write your child’s Valentine greeting on the 5×7 picture or let them write it if they can or some combination of both. Then punch two holes in the card, one above the hand and one below. Whew! Everyone was able to do something on this step.

Step 4 – Make the Rice Crispy Treats and let cool completely in the pan. Butter the cookie cutters and cut out the shapes. We used our Millennium Falcon and X-wing Fighter cookie cutters. Let the shapes cool in the refrigerator for 15 minutes. Next, melt one marshmallow, place the tip of a stick into the melted marshmallow, then immediately insert the sticky tip into the Treat, and repeat. Once all the Treats have their sticks firmly in place, individually put them in a bag and twist tie it closed. Don’t forget to eat the leftover pieces!

Valentine's Day Cards 4

Step 5 – Finish the cards! Slide the stick from the Treat through the holes in the card, in the top hole and out the bottom hole and you have the Best Kids Valentine’s Day Cards Ever! May the Force be with you!

Valentine's Day Cards 5

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