Just Like Mama

Yesterday was a Milo and Mama day, a day when mama's not baking and Milo's not at school and we do something special together. Milo played quietly while I cleaned the kitchen. Okay, the truth is I surfed the Internet while Milo dumped all the Playmobil toys on the floor. All 750 pieces. And then he dumped all of Goldie's doll clothes, 430 outfits.

Whenever he's too quiet I need to check on him.  I know this.

Following Clay's "trust but verify" motto, I found Milo in Goldie's room. He was trying to put on earrings. The sticker kind. In his ear. I repeat, in his ear.

He managed to shove one so far in his ear canal that he complained that it hurt.

Darn. Darn. Darn. I laid him on my bed and looked into his ear and barely saw a twinkly sticky earringy thing.

I called my neighbor, who happens to be an ENT (ear, nose and throat doctor) and she told me I have to bring him in.

And when I asked, in my most doctorly voice, if I could simply put some super glue on a Q-tip and stick it in his ear and get the thing out myself, she ignored me. "It will save all of us time," she said.

Silence.

Fine! I was not happy about driving to the Eastside all for the sake of stupid earlobe sticker. What kind of person doesn't know not to stick things in their ear?

But then I remembered the day my brother Ken and I stuck beads up our noses. (His idea.) I swear they'd still be up there if my mom didn't notice BOTH of us were making strange whistling noises while we breathed and ate Spaghetti O's.

She called my dad, who happens to be a jeweler. He came home and stuck long narrow diamond tweezers up our noses and removed the beads himself.

So, being the good mom I am, I put crying Milo into the car and gave him a pack of sugarless gum and let him eat the whole thing.  (By the way, this is a trick I learned from my friend Margot, who also has three kids. You're only allowed to do this sort of negligent thing if you have three or more kids.)

Milo only cried for a second while my friend fished around in his brain, I mean ear, and pulled out the offending object.

After "surgery" she rewarded our bad behavior, (notice how I take some blame here and say our bad behavior), and let Milo pick a toy from the prize box in the reception area.

So we all know what part two is going to be about don't we? Milo is going to want more gum and toys, so he's most likely going to keep sticking more crap in his ears and nose.

Smart kid. Just like Mama.

Confession

Forgive me father-in-law, for I have sinned. It's been 52 days since my last blog entry.

We've been busy! Busy, busy, busy!  In fact, today was the first day in weeks that we weren't busy.  And by we, I mean Clay and I.

THE KIDS WENT TO SCHOOL!

Yup. It's true. George started 2nd grade and Goldie started Kindergarten.

George claimed "Today was the worst day ever. The chocolate milk wasn't chocolaty enough, recess was too short and I didn't see Goldie enough."

Goldie thought everything was lovely. She wore her rhinestone tutu dress, ate all her lunch and decided she'll go again tomorrow. Thank goodness for that, I have blogging to do.

Poor Carmelo doesn't seem to know what to think of Goldie.

Pies and High Dives

I didn't ask you to read my blog. You came here on your own.

Perhaps this means you're curious about what's happening with us? Or perhaps you are one of my ex-boyfriends. If so, scram! I still love Clay.

Even if it seems like I'm bragging, I'm going to fill you in on the truth, the real nitty-gritty.

And since it's my blog I can talk about myself as much as I want. And my kids. And Clay. And even Grandpa Lala, should I feel so inclined.

Deep breath... OK.

There was another pie contest, this one at the Crossroads farmer's market. I entered a triple berry pie and won first place in the categories of Best Crust and Best Looking. Not me, silly. The pie! (At least I think it was the pie. I can't be sure now that I think about it.)

Anyway, I also baked this now famous pie, which was used in a national publication:

So there you have it. I think I'm getting good at making pies. Too bad I prefer cake.

And George can jump off the high dive. Go George!

Cherry Pie Bake Off

I won't bore my readers with another comeback tale of little' ol' me and my baking competitions.

I'll just tell the tale of the High 5 Pie Cherry Pie Bake Off like how we tell the story of any Jewish holiday around here. (There was a battle. We won. Let's eat.)

So...

There was a pie contest. I entered. I won in the Best Crust category.

The end.

(My pie is the one in the foreground.)

Why I H-A-T-E Mercer Island

Today Milo and I were listening to John Denver on Spotify. I thought he'd love the song Sunshine on My Shoulder, since he calls a guitar a sunshine.

I was happily humming along when I noticed he's sobbing. Then he started crying and saying, "This is a sad song." Then he mutters something about the sunshine in the water. He was really upset because the sunshine (guitar) is in the water. I tried to explain to him that it's the reflection of the real sunshine on the water.

He's not buying it. So I punt and put on The Carpenters. "Rainy Days and Mondays" comes on and now it's my turn to get all emotional.

Karen's blathering on about how rainy days and Mondays get her down and I'm thinking that all this sunshine is killing me. I really wish that it were rainy or cloudy outside so I wouldn't be so hot and there wouldn't be so many flies. It's actually days in the 80s that really get me down. And moreover, I love Mondays. Mondays are when all the kids are back in school. Karen Carpenter, you are full of it! Wait. Is that insensitive? Is it too soon?

So, since Spotify wasn't working for either of us we drove to Mercer Island to pick up George and Goldie at camp. (I'm not sure which pisses me off more: Mercer Island or 80 degree days.)

On Mercer Island I find myself following a giant SUV with a license plate that says SHOPPIN and that gets me THINKIN, why on earth would someone put that on their license plate? Just in case the car behind you was wondering why you're TOOLIN about in your giant SUV? That's very helpful, giant SUV lady.

By the way, my vanity plate is going to say POOPIN.

And all this leads me to the fact that I really dislike excessive sunshine.

...And Mercer Island.

Karen Carpenter is still OK.

Well, she's not OK. In fact, she's very much not OK. But, you know what I mean.

Anyway, THINKIN I should sign off now.

Goldie's Field of Dreams

Because I was bamboozled by my friend Leora, I signed Goldie up to play T-ball team this summer.

The first practice was last week. After school I asked Goldie to change out of her dress, which she wore to preschool graduation, and into something more appropriate for practice.

She came downstairs in the following "ball"gown.

So, I sent her back to put on something more appropriate. She came back in suede boots, terry cloth Daisy Dukes and a cardigan.

"That's more like it," I said.

She had a great time and keeps asking when the next practice is. And I love the batting helmet the coach gave her. At least I did, until Clay asked why she needs a batting helmet for T-ball, since there's no pitching.

Because it looks adorable, obviously.

Anyway, back to Leora, who requested I sign Goldie up for T-ball. She said we could sit on the field chatting about important stuff, like baking, while the girls played. Conveniently, she wasn't at the first practice and I sat by myself.

And she'll miss the second practice because she'll be out of town. I'm on to you, Leora, and your bamboozling ways.

But I do love that pink batting helmet.

Bok Bok!

There is so much going on here that for once I'm speechless.  Our sweet family of five has now become a family of 9.  When Mike left us back in November for NY we had to fill his shoes somehow and we adopted 4 beautiful chickens from our friends Molly and Zack.

Look at them. It's hard not to love them and their fabulous eggs, which have kept me very, very busy this past week.