I’ve been playing with split screen tricks lately. When Karis saw the result, she begged to make a movie of her own.

Her dialogue is a bit muffled. She is saying:

Hey, Karis, you want to play with me?

I’m too busy.

Fine!

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www.nrdc.org/gulfspill

On June 10th, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid will reportedly convene the Democratic Senate Leadership and key Committee Chairs to discuss whether they will proceed with a comprehensive climate and energy bill or whether they’ll take up a watered down energy bill that fails to address the climate crisis or end our over-dependence on oil and other fossil fuels.

Also on June 10th, even as the BP Blowout devastates the Gulf Coast, the Senate is scheduled to vote on a reckless measure introduced by Sen. Lisa Murkowski to strip the EPA of its authority to regulate carbon pollution and hold polluters accountable. Only in Washington would you schedule a vote to let polluters off the hook during the most catastrophic single-event environmental disaster in America’s history. You can’t make this stuff up.

On or around June 15th, Sen. Reid will confer with all 59 Senate Democrats to decide on a course of action for energy legislation. Unwavering caucus support could provide momentum for a strong climate and energy bill, which would set a declining cap on climate pollution and unleash our clean energy economy.

Finally, July 2nd is the unofficial deadline for Senate passage of the bill before the July 4th Congressional recess. After that, there may not be enough time in the Congressional schedule to reconcile a Senate bill with the House measure that passed last year.

“We will always remember 2010 as the year of America’s greatest single-event ecological catastrophe. What the Senate does on these 3 days will determine whether we will also remember 2010 as the year we squandered our last, best chance to solve the climate crisis and end our over-dependence on oil and other fossil fuels…

…Or whether we’ll remember 2010 as the year when America finally took charge of our clean energy future.” -David Yarnold
President, Environmental Defense Action Fund

To email your congressmen, click here.  To donate,  click here.

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This is a teeny tiny pic of the BP fail whale. It should be a link to the bigger version on Twitter. (click it)

This is a pic from a BP gas station. The irony here needs no explanation.

(I don’t know who to credit this photo to – I found it on the internets)

And this is a pic of one of Jesse’s ex-girlfriends who liked to send him naughty photos all the time. Oh – she’s relevant to this post because she had really oily skin. Oily skin, but nice tits. Just sayin’.

Jesse will probably be pissed when he sees this. How do you think that conversation will go?

Him: “Dammit Kristy! Stop posting naked pictures of my ex-girlfriends on your blog!”

Me: “Stop saving naked pictures of your ex-girlfriends on my external hard drive!”

Him: “I didn’t even know that was on there.”

Me: “Then you’re welcome I found it for you. She had nice tits!”

Him: “Yes, she did. Nice tits, but oily skin.”

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My husband just had the gall to compare me to one of his childhood friend’s mothers. Again.

We’ll call her Mrs. X.

Mrs. X. was the perfect stay at home mother.

According to Jesse (who is remembering this woman through the naive eyes of a child) she was the best mother he had ever known. The greatness of Mrs. X. surpassed that of even his own mother. What makes her so great? Apparently she was either a Stepford wife, or a time traveler from 1953.

These are her esteemed qualities:

* She was an excellent cook. She always had plenty of food to snack on, and always set an extra place at her dinner table for Jesse. I can understand why the whole food thing would be seductive to Jesse. His parents were very forward thinking, and ate vegan-like, natural meals long before it was popular to do so. That meant that Jesse would experience spontaneous erections at the sight of a Hostess cupcake, and go in to pleasure seizures while downing a soda. It didn’t hurt that Mrs. X was Italian, and cooked all of Jesse’s favorite Italian dishes. She thought his forced vegan diet was unnatural, and took great joy in trying to fatten him up.

*Her house was always spotlessly clean. It would pass the white glove test no matter what time of day or night you might happen to come calling. My house wouldn’t pass a glove test of any color. Ever. There is almost always a fine layer of food debris caking my kitchen floor. I mop it, but that lovely clean floor feeling never lasts more than ten minutes, tops. My bathrooms? In a word? Hairy. I make a point of scrubbing the toilets weekly, but all that dust and hair that collects on the floor is quite easy to ignore with enough practice. Add to that the fact that any horizontal surface in my home automatically becomes a shelf on which to house clutter, paperwork, toys, sticky things… you get the idea. Frankly I have given up trying to keep a spotless house. What’s the fucking point?! The kids are just going to mess it up again the SECOND I finish cleaning it. I have better things to do with my time.

*She doted on her husband and kids. Well, good for her. I make sure my kids are safe, I feed offer them nutritious meals (You can lead a kid to broccoli but you can’t make him eat…) I play with them, I read to them and shower affection upon them. I give my husband affection, and rub his head every night as he falls asleep. Does the fact that I also happen to scold my children and “nag” (I hate that word) my husband negate all the good stuff I do? I guess so.

It’s that simple. According to Jesse, my duties as a stay at home mother include entertaining the kids, cleaning my house, and cooking. I seriously wanted to claw his eyes out when he said that. He has this infuriating way of claiming that he could do (anything) better than I.  I’m not kidding – the man actually claimed he could give birth “better” than I. Because there is a right way to do it? Did I do it wrong?

I would love to sit down and have a heart to heart with Mrs. X. I bet Mrs. X. had more going on in her life than the perfect picture Jesse was privy to. Was she depressed? Did she drink? Did she have any hobbies that were just for her? Was she having a torrid affair with the mailman? I’ll never know. But you can bet your ass that she wasn’t as happy and perfect as Jesse seems to think.

I don’t think any driven person could be happy and fulfilled living only to clean, and cook and serve others. Why would he want to be married to that version of me? Doesn’t he love those things about me that take me away from keeping a spotless house? My creativity. My love of animals. My imagination. My social nature. How content would he be if I truly lived only to cook and clean?

I argued that every person needs to express their individuality. No one could possibly be content living like that, day in and day out, with no agenda of their own. That’s how people snap. That’s how infanticide happens. Forcing a woman into such drudgery is a sure way to make her go all Shutter Island on your ass. Not that I could imagine myself capable of such a thing, but I doubt ANY mother could imagine doing something like that. So that’s my compromise: Messy house, or crazy wife. Your choice.

He just scoffed at me and brought up the infallible Mrs. X. again. Sometimes my husband sucks. He’s lucky I love him in spite of his outdated, gender biased views. Didn’t anyone warn him that he married a feminist? Sucker.

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I’ve smacked Karis on the butt maybe 4 times in her life. I’m not big into the spanking thing – but I do grab her arm and force her to look at me as a way of demanding her attention.

I was going through old video footage today, and stumbled upon a gem! We were vacationing in Maine when she got salt water in her eye. After much flailing and wailing, Jesse calmed her down and gave her some water on the porch.

I don’t know why he decided to film her, but I am so glad he did! You are about to witness one of Karis’s best dramatic scenes to date. Let me set it up for you:

Earlier in the day Karis had fought with her cousin, Sera, and I had scolded her. (verbally *not* physically.) Never one to miss an opportunity for sympathy from Daddy, Karis gave him a very different tale. I especially love the way she says, “smacked my butt!”. Enjoy.

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My dad and I love to debate. Everything. From silly stuff like politics, to important stuff like whether to hang the toilet paper roll over or under.

One of the things he loves to give me endless grief over is my penchant for buying organic foods. (I know – I’m so crazy for not wanting to ingest pesticides and carcinogens…)

When he read about my quest to find the perfect dried onion, he offered to send me some of his. I found them on my front step this afternoon, along with a note from my dad – on his personal official stationary no less! ( I took the liberty of cropping his letterhead, so any local crazies activists don’t show up on his doorstep offering to enlighten him.)

When my dad refers to something as “organic” he means “matter that has come from a once-living organism, is capable of decay or the product of decay, or is composed of organic compound.”

You see, my dad is one of those right-wing, capitalist, carbon footprint flaunting conservatives not convinced that global warming is a reality. He snickers at my fellow tree huggers and me as we  peruse the local farmers’ markets with our canvass grocery bags.

There are many things my dad and I have had to agree to disagree on. Many, many things. However, there is one thing that brooks no argument from either of us: My dad makes AWESOME dried onions!

Thanks dad – they’re delicious! xo

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Karis is in denial about turning the big oh-four. If you ask her how old she is, she will look at you as if sizing up how likely you are to know her true age, then she will say that she is three years old. If you try to correct her by saying, “Didn’t you just have a birthday? Aren’t you four years old now?” She will shake her head violently, and insist that she is still three.

She begs me to let her be a baby again, reminiscing about the days of old. “Remember when I used to have a binkie?” She’ll ask, with dreamy eyes.

She recently learned that children grow while they are sleeping. That night, she refused to go to bed, wailing forlornly, “I don’t want to groooowwww. I want to be your little girl foreverrr.”

As young as she is, she is learning the harsh reality that time waits for no man. (Or little girl.)

To celebrate her birthday we went to California to visit Aunt Danielle. While there, we took advantage of Danielle’s connection to Karis’s favorite children’s show, and let Karis hang out on the set of The Fresh Beat Band.

As we approached stage 19 at Paramount, Karis asked if it was The Fresh Beats house. I hated to ruin the magic of television for her, but I explained that The Fresh Beats lived in a pretend house. Just as I finished my explanation, the giant door rolled open, revealing the bright, happy set.

She recognized it immediately.

As sets go, The Fresh Beat set is one of the brightest, most cheerful sets I have ever seen. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood when you’re surrounded by such vibrant colors and cartoon like props. I wasn’t allowed to take any pictures of it, and can’t find any online, but here’s a video of The Fresh Beats singing “Bananas”. Even the video can’t capture how bright that set is – it’s crazy.

Karis curb side on set, after having raided craft services. (Who wouldn’t love pink and yellow streets?)

The cast and crew were all super nice. The cast especially were exactly how you would want children’s entertainers to be. When Karis first laid eyes on Twist, she melted into Danielle’s arms. Twist (Jon Beavers) was so incredibly sweet. Karis was shy and star-struck, meaning she lost all ability to speak or move. I asked Twist if I could get a picture of the two of them together. When he saw how nervous Karis was, he said, “I would love to take a picture with Karis. I’m very shy and nervous! Karis, I’m a little scared, can I take a picture with you?”

He really went above and beyond to make her feel more comfortable. He kept up a running dialogue, (well, technically it was a monologue because Karis was mute) talking about being a big sister, and having a birthday etc.

The rest of the cast was equally awesome. Shout (Thomas Hobson) has an aura about him that could make the sun come out on an overcast day. That man is filled to the brim with kindness and good intentions. I wish I could capture some of his sweetness and sew it into a teddy bear.

Marina (Shayna Rose) was sweet and demure. Her eyes twinkle when she smiles, and it’s easy to see why kids love her immediately.

Kiki (Yvette Gonzalez-Nacer) is Karis’s favorite Fresh Beat (Assuming, of course, that you can ignore her obvious obsession with Twist) Yvette was  more than happy to pose with Karis by her trailer. She also tried to get Karis to talk, but Karis continued to exercise her right to remain silent.

So, where was Brecken this whole time? Naturally he felt inclined to screech as loudly as possible the second he heard the crew call “action”, so Danielle grabbed him in a foot ball hold and ran him the hell off set. He spent the bulk of his time on the Paramount lot eating snacks from craft services, and admiring the electric golf carts that are so popular on lots. He couldn’t have been happier.

Yeah. I’m bad-ass.

Thank you so much to Danielle, the cast, Keith and the rest of the crew, for making my baby girl’s fourth birthday such a magical day. What a wonderful job you guys have – making children happy.

Karis & Danielle

Doing a bit of choreography to her favorite Fresh Beat song. (Note Brecken admiring Kiki’s wheels in the background.)

Oh – and for those of you that keep asking about the cake, here it is:

It was supposed to be a life-sized (kid sized) replica of Kiki’s guitar. The body was covered in fondant, and the details were made out of sugar cookies with royal icing for color. Yeah, Karis is reluctant to age, but at least a little chocolate cake helps to sweeten the deal.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHI-CHI!!!

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We are back from our California adventure. I learned many things during our little trip. Mainly, it is completely impossible to enjoy a meal if Brecken is within a 47 foot radius of the table, and traveling with a 4 year old and a 23 month old sucks – except for the rare times when it doesn’t, but mostly it does.

Ok, that’s not really fair. Karis was pretty good for a majority of the traveling. She spent her time in the airport diligently coloring in a pony book… in the middle of the terminal hallway.

I don’t know where she gets it.

Brecken spent his time determinedly pushing every reachable button on the near by security control panel, and scavenging fries from compassionate travelers.

My son, after the kind, fry dispensing traveler wouldn’t let him eat dirty fries off the floor.

Brecken’s inability to handle being told “no”, no matter how gently it may be said, borders on comical. He’s not even upset about not getting what he wants – he’s upset that he has displeased someone in such a way as to make them feel the need to say that awful N-word.

Much like the seagulls in Finding Nemo – you know, the ones that say, “Mine? Mine? Mine. Mine?”- my children wandered the airport terminal, getting uncomfortably close to anyone with food in any form. Before I could pull them away and beat them properly, the incredible force of their giant puppy dog eyes would have already worked its magic, and the unsuspecting food bearer would have gladly offered up portions of their meal. While it’s comforting to know that should we ever fall on hard times, we have only to go to the airport to fill our children’s bellies, I find this wanton begging for food to be in poor taste. (Pun intended – I just couldn’t help it.)

I promise, I DO in fact feed my children! Don’t believe me? Just ask my therapist. That’s right, I need a therapist to help me work through the PTSD I suffer from taking my brood to a restaurant.

Again, Karis is pretty good at restaurants, if you can overlook the occasional spilling of full glasses of water all down her front. Little Brecks, on the other hand, has just entered into that magical time in childhood where he feels it is his sole responsibility to reap Karmic vengeance upon you for anything you have ever done wrong in your life to this point. He suffers from a very special case of Toddler Tourettes, which seems to be exacerbated by the restaurant atmosphere. The nicer the restaurant, the worse the Toddler Tourettes.

Maybe his aversion to fine dining stems from a traumatic past life experience. With that theory in mind, I let him soothe himself when the need arises. During our lunch in Venice, I let him drown his sorrows in half & half creamers. Whether it helped with the past life stuff or not, I think downing an entire dish of creamer is a rite of passage for every kid.

Line ‘em up. Keep ‘em comming.

Our attempt at a sushi dinner was met with Brecken’s usual culinary enthusiasm. A picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll just leave you with this:

A: Apple Josh. (He doesn’t have any kids yet – can you tell?)

B: A dirty chop stick Karis found on the ground. (Isn’t she helpful the way she’s stirring her daddy’s drink?)

C: A very patient man. (Thanks to the bottle of Saki, no doubt.)

D: Brecken in full Toddler Tourettes form. (Hell hath no fury like a little boy subjected to edamame and sweet pumpkin!)

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What does jet lag feel like? It sucks.

What does jet lag feel like when you have two jet lagged kids? It sucks worse.

I can’t complain though. They were 98% angelic on the very long plane ride. So much so, that they captured the interest of a sweet, elderly gentleman. As we were boarding our connecting flight, he stopped us from his seat as we were mid-aisle:

Sweet old man: “You have such beautiful children.”

Me: “Why, thank you.”

Sweet old man: “I mean it. I’m not just saying that. They are just charming.”

Me: *smile and nod*

We stare at each other for a minute while waiting for the passengers in front of us to move down the aisle. He looks me dead in the eye, and full on ups the creepy factor of our conversation from 1 to ELEVEN.

Sweet Creepy old man: “You know, you could definitely get a million bucks a piece for them. Easy.”

Me: *Confused, blank stare*

As we continued on our way, Jesse said, “What do you think? Would you sell one of our kids for a million bucks?”

I just sighed heavily, and answered, “It doesn’t matter – Their market value will plummet once Brecken starts shrieking.” And just like that, as if on cue, Brecken started shrieking – ruining all of my plans for an early retirement.

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This is what my living room looks like right now:

Can you find the child in this picture?

I didn’t bother to take a picture of the car before clearing it out, but it looked much the same as the living room.

Tomorrow we are leaving to California for a week. I have a mild OCD quirk where I can’t leave a mess behind when I travel. My entire house looks like a tornado just rolled through, having just passed through a Toys R Us, sucking up every toy imaginable, only to deposit it in my living room. There is also a sour smell coming from the garbage. I don’t think anything has died in there, but it sure smells like CSI should drop in for a look around.

I still have to scour the fridge, clean the entire house, sweep and mop, finish up the laundry, and PACK all of the clothes for myself and the kids. This is my list as of right now – 4:30PM. I have already cleaned the hedgehog, dropped her off at her babysitter’s house (Hi Laurel!) returned one of Jesse’s shirts to the ghetto mall, attended my core class at the gym, went to the grocery store for last minute plane snacks, fed the kids lunch, played restaurant with Karis, cleaned out the car, and washed several loads of laundry. I have also been denying that my kids feel a little warm, and look a little peaked. So help me God they will not be sick for this trip!!!

So that’s what’s going on around here today. For those of you asking about the cake pics – they are coming! But no promises as to when.

I’ll try to post tomorrow before we leave. (Did I mention I’m a solo parent for today and tomorrow? Jesse will be meeting us at the airport.)

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