And The Envelope, Please...

OMG~ I...sniff, sniff, cannot believe..sniff, sniff...that I actually won...AN AWARD!!!!! OMG!!!! YOU LIKE ME, YOU REALLY LIKE ME!!!


Seriously, this has made my day, my week, ok, ok, my year! Just when I was convinced that the only people really reading this blog at all was my mom, Rosemary and my sister, Marcy (Hi Mom! Hi Rosemary! Hi Marcy!) and of course, my only two regular visitors that comment, Sus from http://wigglerooms.blogspot.com/ as well as Alice from http://elegantthimble.blogspot.com/ I think that very well may still be the case, but none the less, I feel special.





So thank you muchos to Sus from http://wigglerooms.blogspot.com/ who chose little 'ol me and four other lucky mo fos to pass this award to! I can't tell you how touched and very surprised I was to be considered in her recipient list. WOW~ Sus is both totally hilarious and deeply touching in her writing style. Her photos are very photo journalistic and have inspired me to get out my lame point and shoot camera and try to capture the moment a little more often. Sus, I know that if you lived in AZ, we'd be amigos for sure.

I am such a lame-o blogger that I am not even sure I cut and pasted the aforementioned blog sites correctly. Will someone please click on those links and make sure they work? Mom? Marcy? Are you sure you don't want to revoke this award? I'M NOT WORTHY! Gulp, I'm really not. But I'll take it!!! Can I put this on my resume?

But alas, my three minutes of fame are merely three minutes. I will now crown the next award recipients, to those bloggers who inspire me, make me laugh and make me cry sometimes, depending on how much PMS I have coursing through my veins. Although I don't have much time to blog or to read others' blogs, there are a few that I try to visit whenever I can. There are many "famous" bloggers that I would like to pass this to, but I know they have already received this award several times, so I'm trying to pick the folks who may not have won this award yet, but are oh so deserving. Fair?

This award comes with rules. (Enter bald, spec wearing, Arthur Anderson guy in a tux)

They are:
You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte y Pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

And the envelope please... drum roll in the distance...

1. Sheri from:
http://myminivanisfasterthanyours.com/

Sheri, a friend of my sister, Marcy, was the lucky blogger I initially pestered to learn how to start up this blog thing. She was extremely helpful and kind to such a pain in the ass type, like myself. Sheri, you are a fabulously funny writer. Your clever style is amazing and I always look forward to reading your blog entries. Thank you for your guidance. I owe you a beer.

2. Lauri from:

http://introducingyalltoarizonians.blogspot.com/

Lauri, you rock sista! You are such an amazing person and friend. Your pictures are priceless and you have such spirit about you! Keep on keeping on! Don't give up! There are many more Arizonans who need some "ya'll" in their vocab.

3. Feener from:

http://mommyvents.blogspot.com/

Seriously LOL funny. She can totally relate to my PMS type outbursts. I love your raw, emotional style. Your blog makes us all feel like we are all in this together (Break into a chorus of, "We're All In This Together..." a High School Musical 1 reference, in case you haven't heard that song like fifty thousand times already in your life)

4. Melissa from:

http://takingwhatisleft.blogspot.com/

Melissa cracks me up! She must carry a camera in her purse at all times to capture the great, hilarious shots that she does! I love the big, fun polka dot background in your blog.

5. Kate from:

http://kateinthewild.blogspot.com/

This is my baby sister, Kate's blog. Can we give this award to family members? I think so. This chick is serving in the Peace Corps in Tanzania for the next 2 years. You are the strongest person I know. We can all learn a thing or two from your tenacity and dedication. You made it through a rodent-ridden bed incident, and now, I am confident you can make it through just about anything! Rock on sista! Please visit Kate's blog and give her good vibes! She deserves it!

Thanks again to Sus for this great honor!

Nighty Night, Sleep Tight, Don't Let the Rabid Rats Bite

I haven't blogged in like over 10 days or so, I'm not sure. Did you even notice I was absent? No? That's ok. I had nothing to really blog about. School is in full swing, which includes lots of daily homework, nightly reading and flashcards. Oy.

I cannot complain. I have no right, no privilege to utter a single complaint after I share with you what my baby sister (she's 22), Kate, went through on Saturday. She is serving in the Peace Corps in Tanzania, Africa (I had to learn how to spell Tanzania once she got her assignment) for over 2 years. She will be educating the locals in her small village how to live healthier, prevent the spread of AIDS and other deadly diseases.

She was initially stationed in a family's home, a Mama and Dada (sister), aged 18. The dad (I don't know the Swahili word for dad) is a teacher who lives in the town that he teaches in, and returns home periodically. She was fortunate enough to have a wonderful, caring family, who killed all the cockroaches and spiders on her walls before she went to sleep. There was no running water or electricity in her quite humble, humble abode. She went to school during the day, learning Swahili at a local school with her Peace Corps counterparts.

Once this portion of the assignment is complete, Peace Corps moved her out to a remote village BY HERSELF. Her hut was a simple 2 room set up, a bedroom and living room, completely empty, again, no running water and no electricity. The door doesn't come to the top or bottom of the threshold. You're thinking I must have forgot to mention a kitchen or better yet, a bathroom. Nope. Neither. The potty is a hole in the ground, outside in a courtyard type place. They cook outside on stones with used corn cobs that are lit. The food is boiled in a kettle of some sort over the fire. She managed to find a mattress and a mosquito net. And that's it for home furnishings. No food, no pots or pans, she's got to go get all of that, somewhere. And it's not like there is a local Walmart nearby. She will have to get herself by foot or bike to the nearest town to purchase that kind of stuff.

So, her first night in her new place, she was slumbering as best as possible on the mattress on the concrete floor, when she heard a scuffle. She opened her languid eyes to see a RAT, who had climbed up to the top of her mosquito net, above her head. She screamed bloody murder and the RAT fell INTO BED WITH HER!!!!! INTO BED WITH HER~!!! Oh. My. God. I'm having the heeby jeebys just recounting the story! BLICK!!! She screamed louder as the rat landed in her bed.

So, she spent her first night, terrified and cold in her "living room", sobbing and hysterical. First she called my mom who didn't answer her cell phone because she probably didn't hear it ring inside her purse. Then she called me, and of course, I'm no help.

"Get a broom and..." I begin.

"I DON'T HAVE A BROOM!" she screams.

"Ok, can you throw a shoe at it?" I lamely offer.

"I'M NOT GOING BACK IN THERE! ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

"Ok, in the morning, can you get some towels and duct tape them to the top and bottom of the door, so nothing can come in through those spaces." I advise.

"AMY, THERE IS NO DUCT TAPE! ARE YOU KIDDING?! THERE ARE NO TOWELS!" she is beside herself.

"Ok, how about newspaper or rags..."

"Will you just tell mom to call me as soon as she can?" she gives up on me, since I am offering little or just plain sucky advice.

My last attempt went something like this:

"It's going to be ok. This is the absolute worst thing that could happen to you. This is rock bottom. Everything from here on out will be better. Tomorrow morning, go find some villagers who will help you. Call the Peace Corps people and have them help you. They will. It will be ok."

I seemed to have talked her away from the ledge because she seemed to be chilling out a little.

"Ok", she sniffed. The she added, "I think I'll be getting a cat."

So, the ending to the story is she borrowed a local villager's cat, who ate the rat~ gulp. But, there was...are you ready for this...another rat, but the cat was too full to get that one down, so Kate's neighbors helped get it out of her house and patch the door, and other holes in the roof. So, for now, no rodents...

Please visit her blog. Although she doesn't get to an Internet cafe but once every few weeks because it is so far away, any comment you could leave would be welcomed. Her blog is
on my blogroll listed as: Can I Wear Stilettos In The Peace Corps? And she really asked that question.

Mall Phases In My Life

Today, I was able to go to the mall... ALONE, a far off, somewhat mystical place that is OUT OF THE QUESTION to visit with whiny, needy children nipping at my sides. It was purely euphoric, even though it was certainly not leisurely, I was just there to return a skirt that Patty rejected.

I had several flashbacks while inhaling the purely intoxicating retail-laden air. There are several Mall Phases in my life that came crashing back as I passed the perfume squirter ladies.

Cruising the Mall

Early Mall Phase with my best friend, Amy. Our somewhat neglectful parents dropped us off at the mall door with $10. We strolled our giggly little pre-teen selves all over the mall, ALL. DAY .LONG. This was recreational shopping at its finest. We followed boys we thought were cute. We ran into our friends at the food court. At the end of the day, our Jelly-clad feet found the nearest filthy pay phone and called our parents to pick us up. We never got sick of the mall.

Take It Off, It Looks Terrible

AKA: Shopping with Mom. This was general shopping for back to school clothes, or just change of season needs. This was hard core, shop till you drop with Mom, stamping her approval or stating, "Take it off, it looks terrible." This was only done a few times a year, so it was for all the marbles, Olympic-style, marathon, balls to the wall shopping.

We're On A Mission For The Perfect Outfit:

This would be specific shopping for special occasions. Mom was convinced that the perfect outfit was lurking somewhere between the now defunct Diamond's or The Broadway. These occasions included weddings, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, school dances, sorority rush and the last one I can recall: my wedding dress.

Shopping With A Baby

Shopping with a new, little, precious baby, peacefully slumbering in a stroller, getting some out of the house time and still being able to accomplish leisurely shopping and returns of duplicate or hideous baby gifts. Ahhh. The best kind. Too bad it didn't last long.

Shopping With Kids

Lasts 10 minutes because Cole is running into the toy store BEGGING for various toys and Patty is pulling clothes off racks and CRYING and WHINING that she really, really, really, really, really, really, really wants the glittery slutty miniskirt. I can feel my blood pressure exploding, so we promptly leave. Mission Unaccomplished.

I'm sure shopping with teenagers is no better than scratching your eyes out with a fork. That will most likely be the next phase since I am not going to the mall until then, I swear it.

School Rules RULE!!!

As you may recall from previous blogs, when I was a much more gung ho blogger a few short weeks ago, Patty defying the morning routine has been the cause of my now gray and silver strands of hair I am finding throughout my head as I sit at red lights in traffic peering into the vanity and I mean vanity with a capital V mirror. She was explosively opinionated and agitated with outfit choices and limitations, screaming and sobbing and flailing on the floor like a fish out of water for extra drama and effect, all for the love of Brittney Spears type outfits~ no, I wouldn't buy my 5 year old belly shirts, don't start tsking and shaking your head with worry, she was jones-ing for her bikini top with a skirt and flip flops combo. Strike a pose.

Before school started, we laid down the gigantic steel hammer with the School Rules:

1. No shoulders showing.

I lied a little on this one, but she can't read yet, so I'm safe for now. Really, it says "No spaghetti straps. Straps must be 3 fingers wide. " The no shoulders thing covers the complete tank top family just in case my fingers are smaller than the average fingers, and I just don't want to take any chances. This child digs tank tops.

2. No high heels, flip flops or sandals.

The high heels part is easy. Patty knows the plastic princess hooker heels, you know, the ones with the little fuzzy material on the toe, do not leave the house.

The flip flop part I thought would be a COMPLETE NIGHTMARE. Patty wore flip flops almost every day to preschool, even though, technically, it was against the rules. I was weak. Sue me. It was freakin' preschool, for crying out loud. Now we are in the "real world".

So we began the quest for shoes that hide her pink sparkly toenails that she is so proud of. Thank goodness, my mom and stepdad braved the storm or should I say braved the TSUNAMI and took her shopping to let her pick out some cool sneakers. Mission accomplished. She has happily put them on each day. For four measly days.

Then there were the socks. The child has hardly ever worn socks. The few times they were mandated, we were greeted with stomping, kicking feet in the face, screaming, "They have bumps!!!! BUMPS!!! WAAAA!!!!! So we have purchased a plethora of acceptable socks. Yahoo! They are bump free somehow. It's a miracle.

I had dinner with a mom of a fashion diva and she advised me on the choosing outfits drama:

Sunday night lay 10 outfit choices on the floor

Let her pick 5 outfit combos for the week.

Lay out the 5 choices THAT SHE PICKED on the dresser to sit there all week.

HERE'S THE IMPORTANT PART:

Hide the rest of the clothes in her ENTIRE closet~ put them in your closet, in a storage box, wherever...out of sight. Out of reach. Out of negotiation.

She can mix and match the 5 outfits in any way, but whatever is left for Friday is left and that's it.

I bow down to this BRILLIANT mom: I'M NOT WORTHY, I'M NOT WORTHY! We have had a blissful 4 days. Too early to do the victory dance yet, but it's a start for sure! And I'm getting my grey colored on Saturday. Bottom line is that School Rules Rule.

No More Preschool

I am gearing up for Patty's FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN and Cole's first day of 3rd grade TOMORROW. As in, less than 12 hours...

The 3rd grade thing makes me a little heartache-ish. It was JUST Cole's first day of Kindergarten. Where did the time go? Now, he's in the BIG LEAGUES.

"BIG LEAGUES??? WHAT???? NOOOO!!!", you parents of older kids who are entering the first day of middle school or the first day of high school are thinking, mocking my over-dramatic sentimentality. I am quite aware that I can't compare a non-milestone grade like 3rd grade to these larger points in scholastic development, but I can't help myself. I have heard this is when the molly-coddling ends. In 3rd grade.

I know I will get at least a TEENY BIT of sympathy for Patty, MY BABY starting Kindergarten though. Right? Second kid, so what's the big deal, we've been through this before, when Cole started, so we know how it goes. That's the thing, we know how it goes.

All of the post-toddlers will shuffle their little bodies into the large, colorful, decorated foreign classroom hanging their brand new still cutesy character backpacks on the hooks in their cubbies. They will sit at their big kid desks, looking so innocent and small wearing their newly bought, special back-to-school outfits. Some kids will cry for their mommies, some will be so excited and wave goodbye easily. Cameras will flash, so we can forever remember this day. From our parental eyes, they seem too young to be at this BIG establishment. But here they are.

It's not like my kids haven't been in pre-school since they were 8 months old. It's not like I haven't been dropping them off EVERY DAY, YEAR ROUND TO preschool or camp! I just can't believe I now have 2 kids in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL! No more preschool. No more babies. Waaa. I am the baby here.

The school is offering coffee and danishes and Kleenex in the cafeteria immediately after drop-off. When I first heard this, I thought, "Oh, please!" Now, I think I'll be dropping by for some caffeine and some ugly crying.

The Buxton Organizer

They say kids are like sponges, soaking up all that surrounds them, good or bad. This is such a cliche, but cliches are cliches for a reason, right? Right! Because they are true and they just work. I experienced this sponge brain cliche this evening.

It was around 104 degrees at 6 pm when we left the very gourmet, shi-shi Peter Piper Pizza we were dining at. We met another family there for the fabulous pizza and early gambling opportunities. Why not start 'em now? That place is like Vegas and crack for kids.

As we were leaving in the sweltering, hot, blistering heat, we approached the car, and I realized I couldn't find my keys. Meanwhile, I was balancing AND attempting to hold on to the leftover pizza, so I won't have to make camp lunches tomorrow, a half-empty soda cup, Cole's green plastic slinky he won which will be permanently tangled on our 5 minute drive home, a pink, plastic necklace and matching bracelet that Patty scored from the pushover Peter Piper Pizza teen employee, who was a sucker for a begging, desperate, cute, mushy faced, big-eyed 5 year old girl.

NO. FREAKING. KEYS. I finally plunked my over-sized, bag lady, Mary Kate and Ashley type purse down on the steaming pavement to dig through the bottomless pit. My kids begin to whine expertly as we melted in the heat. I was like a madwoman throwing my wallet, coupons, old receipts on the ground. Where are those DAMNED keys?

Finally, Patty suggests:

"Mom. You should maybe get the Buxton Organizer.

Then you could find your keys so easy, Mom.

You could even put an umbrella AND... TWO water bottles inside of it!"

I swear the kid quoted that damn infomercial VER BATUM. Scary that such a little spongey brain was targeted SOOOOO SUCCESSFULLY. Scary that I discarded any shred of fashion snottiness I had and started wondering what colors they come in.

Three Bitch Slaps

After a VERY stressful week at work, I have rollercoasted thru a series of emotions: exhaustion, weepiness, apathy and just plain overall bitchiness. I think I really need to enroll in the fantasy Mommy Camp.

A few times a year, I get a liiittttttle… irked that I have to work. Key words here are: HAVE TO. HAVE TO means there is no choice. Jerry feels overwhelmingly guilty that this is how it is. I insist that he should not feel guilty, it is NOT his fault that I multitask while complaining. I have witnessed many working moms that seamlessly and effortlessly can juggle ignited knives with a sincere smile all the while.

While in my vile, brooding funk this Monday morning, visiting various doctors’ offices, I was humbled, BIG TIME! I had 3 GIANT Bitch Slaps of “Get over it” that I desperately needed.

Bitch Slap #1
I saw a man in his 40’s, who was a dwarf, or I think the PC term is “little person”. He was in an electric wheelchair. His mother was waiting for him in the waiting room. She held the door open for him and asked, “You ready, Honey?” Honey. She still calls him “honey”. I then watched her lift his cumbersome electric wheelchair, which I am sure weighed a ton, into the back of her pickup.

Bitch Slap #2
Walking through a parking lot, I saw two men in their early 30’s, one was hooked up to an oxygen tank, very pale and emaciated. He had to be helped to take his slow, baby steps. They both briefly looked at me and halfway smiled.

Bitch Slap #3
Entering a waiting room, I glanced over at a weary looking mother, who was gripping onto her son’s arm, trying to keep him from fleeing the office. He had Down’s Syndrome and looked to be about 15 years old.

At that moment, I turned on my heel and threw myself back outside.
I actually said aloud, : GET THE F$#* OVER IT!!!
You HAVE TO work to help support your family… SO THE F#@^ WHAT?!?!?!
Your kids are healthy and happy (most of the time) and you just need to GET A GRIP!!! THAT’S IT!!!
You are DONE bitching and complaining!!!
Your life could be oceans worse, SO STOP IT!!!” (Yeah, you could be a crazy woman giving herself an obnoxiously loud pep talk in the middle of a courtyard)

So until the next episode of, “Waaa, boo hoo, I HAVE TO work, pity me!” I will be positive and grateful for all that I have thanks to the 3 much needed Bitch Slaps.

Mommy Camp

I have not posted all week due to major, heavy work commitments which led to lack of brain function as a result. I am fried. I need a break from everything. Can I sign up for Mommy Camp for a week?

My kids have been at day camp ALL summer, ALL day long. Now that they are a little older and have a reference of time, lately they have been asking, “Mommy, can we have a ‘stay home day’”? Nope, sorry kids, mommy’s gotta go to work. I think this is also the point in the summer where they are getting major camp burnout.

Send ME to camp! Sign me up! What a life! Campers swim once and sometimes twice a day, so that would cover my lack of exercise spanning over the last 10 years or so. You get to indulge a leisurely lunch with your friends. I look forward to the rare days that I can schedule a lunch with my girlfriends, so this would solve that overdue catching up.

Campers unleash their creative side in arts and crafts. How great would it be to get out the glue and pipe cleaners and go to town! Archery! Drama! Color Wars! They sing songs without care of becoming the next American Idol. Each stress-free day ends with a popcycle. I could ditch the heels and play in t-shirts and sneakers all the livelong day!

Sad that I am fanaticizing about going to day camp. Pathetic that it sounds so appealing. It’s the next best thing to a spa weekend, I suppose. I have a feeling that if there was a real Mommy Camp, other necessary elements would include some sort of alcohol availability, spa treatments and a no cell phone rule.