The Emma Tag

Emma had her buy-n-sell at school last week and bought a goldfish. I swore to Kim (the mother of fish entrepreneur) that I would return the favor by leaving a ferrett or something like that on her doorstep. I was not thrilled about having this foul smelling, fecal filled bowl in my home, but after seeing E.J.'s care and concern for this little guy, my mind was changed. Guppy, as named by Emma, began his journey to brown brick in a small baggie. He raced around in that plastic like he had just seen the 1st atomic bomb, and it was affecting Emma emotionally (boy do I love her). She wouldn't leave me alone about going to buy him a bowl, and food, and rocks, and everything else he would need to live a happy life on her cluttered chest of drawers. She kept telling me how stressed he looked and that he would starve to death if we didn't get to Wal-mart within the hour. She even followed through on buying all that he needed with her own money, pennies included for the pitied Wal-mart cashier. Since his arrival she has been a dedicated caregiver to her sweet Guppy. I'm glad I realized that this would be a good opportunity to have her feed and clean for another, because Guppy really is quite cute. I rolled my eyes to another mom as E.J. was carrying Guppy to the car. The other mom said, "Yeah, we already got rid of ours." How could she do that? I admit, I wasn't happy about the adoption either and I did hope for a sooner than later peaceful passing of Emma's new friend, but I could not rid her of him. And now when we look at him inside his little bowl, he swims to our eyes and stares straight at us as if to say "thank you." I told Steve that he kinda has a personality because he goes into a rapid swim when he sees us and then swims in place when we get close to him. Steve then rolled his own eyes and replied "that's ridiculous Ang." Well whatever, I guess only special people notice the extra stroke in Guppy's fins. This is our typical Emma because she has a sensitive place in her heart for all living things in need or distress. We were on Jetblue to Anaheim last month and I was doing my normal I-hate-t.v-channel-flipping when I looked at Emma's screen and noticed she was very focused on CNN, so I switched mine to the same channel. I should've guessed - Dr. Martin Luther's King's followers were being interviewed. She has been extremely interested in the Civil Rights Movement since January and is naturally disturbed that African-Americans were not allowed the same privileges as whites. She seriously listens to the ENTIRE "I have a dream" speech on her iPod almost daily. She can tell you the Rosa Parks story and about Coretta King's phone call to JFK at any given moment. It is funny and touching at the same time, and once again, I'm so proud that she's mine. I didn't want to forget this phase so I took a picture of her latest library book. She has checked similar ones out every week for 3 months now.

Emma has equally gone through Abraham Lincoln and Holocaust periods as well. She had a book club with her friends and she chose a book about some French children who helped a nun hide 10 Jewish students. When she was discussing the fact that the Jewish children has lost their parents to her group, she started to cry. It was one of the sweetest things I've seen in my life. To my content, it looks as though she will always be average in math, spelling and science. To my joy, it appears that she will possibly be leading protests and uprisings for the just causes and wrongs of the world. Some parents picture a future of their children graduating from Ivy League medical schools, but I imagine and embrace the thought of Emma in the headlines for chaining herself to the doors of a fancy fur coat factory. I'm sure I'll be proud of her for whatever path she decides to walk in life, but for now I swell with pride at the conviction she shows for the undermined and inferior.

This is the Mother's Day card she made for me. She writes, "I love you Mom! Vilets are red roses are blue, I know that I Love You." Love, Emma. She also wrote poems to my Mom and Grandma. Steven asked when I would to correct her that roses are red and violets are blue. "Never," I told him, "maybe in her world the blooms are different colors." Emma might be onto something. I think it'd be a welcome change if we saw more roses of blue, vibrant red violets, and goldfish who react subtly when we make sucker lips at them.

I tag my nephew Justice and Carrie's Peyter whom I like to call Sweetness after the great Walter Payton.

Playing Tag with 5 Things You May Not Know About Me

My other one was too wordy, so I changed it :)

1. I LOVE, LOVE my book club. We are a diverse group in age, religion, & upbringing and that's what adds so much to our gatherings.

2. I'm kind of growing a liking for that evolving 90's band, I think they're name is Matchbox 10, Matchbox Twenty, something like that.

3. I loathe camping, hiking, or anywhere else that involves creepy-crawly things around me.

4. With the exception of Broncos games, MLB games, or occasional Larry King Live, I don't watch t.v.

5. I attempted to dognap a mistreated puppy 3 times. I only gave up because I got caught, but was prepared with an alibi. I enlisted my best friend (who 1st put me on the job), Lyndee, and Zak as my accomplices on different occasions. At the urging of their homenurse(informant), the owners finally gave the dog a new home. whew!

I tag Lyndee, Karianne, Aleesha, and TerryLynn.

The Acorn Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

Well fellow bloggers tell me what you think. Brooks is a few months older than his Dad in his picture but I think they're too similar to be picky about. I considered doing the wave on top but I didn't want to give Brooks more reasons to place me in a nursing home when I'm old and incontinent. I'd actually rather he call Dr. Krevorkian then. We all know I'm gonna be one of those crabby old bags who spouts out profanities worse than a drunken sailor. Not to mention all the holes I'll be kicking in the wall because I won't be able to get my stupid walker through the bathroom door fast enough. Some people cry, yell, or throw things (cheeto puffs to be exact but I refuse to provide a name right now) when they get mad, but I prefer to make voids in the drywall. As a matter of fact, if you'd like, you may scroll down to Brooks' b-day post and see the unfinished patch up job on the wall behind him in the Spiderman photo. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's better than beating the children correct? However, that particular day it was my dear husband's booty I wanted to bash in. My sister, the Home Depot veteran, provided the mending kit. Thanks Lynn.

Where the heck was I going with this anyways? It's better to write during daytime hours but that's impossible with small children. Children...yes, that's where I'm headed with all this, so I'd appreciate your opinion on whether you think I had anything to do with Brooks' gene pool. I gained 50 lbs. while I carried him for crap's sake, you'd think he'd get more from me than attitude and temperamant.

I just added the picture of Emma because she's pretty. My sis-n-laws were complaining about school photos and I didn't understand. I don't mean to brag, but she really is beautiful. Steve's already talking about homeschooling her when she turns 13. Just kidding E.J., we'll let ya go to public school but you'll be closely supervised by your father. I'm sorry ahead of time about the "running man" he's going to bust out in front of your friends. I wish I were joking about it too.

I would've posted a picture of me at E.J.'s age, but for those who don't know, I'm the middle child. I think I had a professional picture taken when I turned one and then again when I celebrated my 16th birthday. I'm prepared to hear about this from every angle so bring it on Mom and Hermanas. You both have more pictures than me and you know it. It's ok Mom, I'm totally over hearing about the "baby" my whole life and settling for the lame Hardy Boy iron-on shirt. Val got Shaun Cassidy so I had to settle for gay Parker Stevenson across my torso. I didn't even remember his name, I just looked it up on google. I'll spare everyone the tearful details of my childhood, because I am my Mom's favorite now. I'm fairly sure I'm Dad's as well. My apologies sisters, they're just making up for lost attention.

Because Nothing is Impossible...

I do believe that with faith anything is possible and I will never give up hope. I stand with my aunt in thinking that posting about life's trials might not be best at this time. My only request during this space is that we will pray for ALL those who are battling cancer and for those dealing with post-cancer treatments and effects.
I will continue to post about the simple, happy going-on's in our life but what's deep in my heart will remain tucked in for the time being. RB & Fam: I'll be thinking of you, praying for you and as always, sending you our love.

O' These Magical Days

One week ago today we were getting ready to watch one of Emma's dreams come true. There couldn't have been a more fitting spot than Disneyland. She practiced this dance so much that I thought I'd never want to hear Kenny Loggins voice again in my lifetime, but as soon as the tunes of "Footloose" started playing on Main Street, I began to cry. I couldn't even see her yet and the tears were welling. Luckily, she had a few groups ahead of her so by the time she passed us, I had gained full composure.


In case you don't reconigosize her, as Tigger would say, she's the second one from the back in red and she is gettin' her groove on. That's my girl. Not that I was ever into performance dancing much, but doing the boogie around the house is something I'm quite fond of. I have a feeling she's gonna be able to "shake it." Poor Steven. I mean that in more than one way. He's not going to like Emma shakin' it around the boys AT ALL (when she's older of course) and now he'll be subjected to two of us jigging as we bake cookies and make the beds.

The only thing I felt bad about this whole trip was the fright we made Brooks endure. He's not one to live on the edge or do anything that would land him in the emergency room. It was no surprise that Disneyland wasn't any different. If you're sensitive to terrified toddlers, the next picture will tug at your heart strings.
It might help to know that this was his first time on Big Thunder and we were about to descend a hill at an abnormally high speed. Child abuse I know, but he just has to overcome his fears somehow. I hope Child & Family services doesn't check my blog. Good heck, if he weren't a mirror image of his father, you'd think I'd had an affair with Evil Knievel.

Grandpa Reed said that two things made this trip all worth it. One: as the Matterhorn began ripping them around, he thought Brooks would be deathly afraid, but instead he heard him laughing and giggling the whole time. And two: seeing Emma's grin from ear to ear and her face completely lit up when we picked her up backstage after the parade. Although the picture above is deceiving, I testify that E.J. did not release any bodily matter on Splash Mtn. Everybody followed my instruction except myself. I told everybody to keep their eyes open as we dropped and asked Reed to hold onto Brooks. It appears I'm the only one who's not afraid of me. You can tell that E.J. would've much rather been closing her peepers but doing so would've brought the wrath of the irrational disney mom, so she held up.

And will somebody please remind me why I ask Steve to be in pictures?

The night before dancing in the parade, Emma went to a special dance class with three Disney choreographers. One was from High School Musical, another from Kim Possible, and the other was not popular enough for Emma to remember, but she had a great time. She absolutely loved the fact that she learned moves from real HSM choreographers. I'm glad she thoroughly enjoyed this since I could've bought a year's worth of clothes with the price we paid for her ticket. No just kidding, it was a tad pricey, but more than worth it.

A picture of E.J. with Michele, her dance teacher for 5 years now. We had alot of people from our little town there and they all kept saying how they kept seeing Michele's family around D-land without her. It's because she spent the whole time coordinating, practicing, and helping the girls make this a fun experience. I would like to thank Michele for the time she put into this for our girls, and also for inviting us. We don't have time for Emma to be on her competition team, but she is always kind enough to ask us to competition things. She is a great confidence builder for Emma and praises her constantly. I don't know of alot of dance instructors that are consistent self-esteem raisers, but Michele is fabulous at it and E.J adores her. When Emma was 3 years old, a different dance teacher told me that E.J. was a follower not a leader. K first of all, let me repeat that she was 3, and second of all, ain't nobody gonna tell me that my daughter is less than anyone else, EVER!! It appears that the only one Emma's following now is Mickey Mouse down the parade on Main Street. I'm grateful we found Michele :)

I guess it's not enough that Nik and I share the same birthday, we have the same great taste as well. We will obviously have to start discussing wardrobe plans before we go anywhere again. Would anyone care for some Doublemint gum?

Some pictures are worth a thousand words-

At least Emma and Grandpa were able to conquer their fears on their own kind of "Tower of Terror". E.J. can say she's ridden Disney's version and Legoland's version and the vote goes to.......LEGOLAND. I don't think hate is a strong enough word for her feelings about Disney's.

Next day was Dodger Stadium. Steve & Jim were discussing not going to church on Sunday to which Reed replied, "Some people are going to church tomorrow, but we're going to heaven."

It wasn't our favorite stadium to say the least. Not only because it took us 10 hours to get in and out of the parking lot, but because we are not members of the Crips and therefore wondered if we'd live to see another sunset. I particularly don't carry a concealed weapon but am not against the idea if anyone coerces me to go there again.

However, I did like this on their mountain:

But this would've been BETTER:

I have alot of people ask me how I can stand to go to Disneyland every year. I really don't know how I can't. It's the only time I don't get ornery with the kids. I get to see their excitement over and over and over again. Brooks kept saying, "wake up Pooh" from the Winnie ride and skipped to and fro Star Tours and anything space/star wars related. He whooped Grandpa in points on the Buzz ride by the way. Emma inherited the appreciation of every big and little thing Disney.

I also was fortunate enough to go to Disneyland with my own Grandpa many times, many years ago. I choked up waiting for the submarine ride because thoughts of my Gramps and Gram all came back. I remembered being on the sub with them and my 5 cousins like it was yesterday, seeing the tattered mermaid below while sitting next to my chubby Grandpa who barely fit in the minimal space given. It wasn't much of a ride for our grandparents, but all that mattered was that we liked it. And we did Gramps & Gram, thank you for the many trips to this magical place. It's those memories that keep me going back time and time again. I missed you more than ever while we were there Gramps. I told Steven that I thought I heard your voice when we were passing Pirates and you were even talking in spanish. Thanks for throwing me some pixie dust from heaven and being there with me for just a moment. I'm carrying on what you left.

35 Candles

It was the day Lincoln was shot but didn't die. It was the day the Titanic hit the iceberg but didn't sink. It was the day Pete Rose was born which is only significant because I don't think Steve was interested in me until he found this out. Just in case you care, I loathe sharing the same birthday as Pete Rose. I have always been a loyal person. I'd also like to think I'm honest and I don't believe Mr. Hustle to be either of these. Now that I've written this, Steven will read it and one can be sure a debate will take place later in brown brick, again. Sorry Babes, but loyal people don't bet on the game that fed them, especially when it's in the rule book.

I also don't enjoy the fact that two of the biggest tragedies in history began on my birthday. I wish John Wilkes Booth wouldn't have killed The Great Emancipator at all, but I especially hate the jerk for doing it on my birthday. But that's enough of the soapbox and onto happier things, like my birthday.

Normally I would not post about myself but I had a really great birthday today. I thought I was going to be grim because I was leaving Disneyland. Those who have spent time with me are well aware of the post-Disneyland depression I experience for a full week after my Anaheim departure. I believe this to be the reason that most of you texted and emailed instead of calling. You did not feel like playing therapist today, I know. I completely understand. I would avoid me too.

Steven did the usual pretend-to-not-get-me-anything routine. If there were ever a year that he hadn't gotten me something, I might believe him just once, but I'll continue to play along with this game for his enjoyment. The present always appears though and this year it was perfect. Long gone are the days of buying me grandma sweaters and peach lotion. You think I'm joking? True story - about 3 years ago, he bought me a sweater with real wood buttons across the chest. The year before that he bought me a red cashmere sweater. I've never even seen my Grandma in cashmere for hell sakes. But this....this is no sweater my friends:

It is a color scanner, copier and photo printer. He came to his senses a year or so ago and decided to start asking my sister for ideas. THANK YOU HERMANA. and thank you Coach Poll. He even wrote 'happy blogging' on the box and placed the same ribbon on the box that he uses for every gift he gives me.

Then I went to my parents for enchiladas and cake. It's the best cake I've ever had.

I heard Steven from the corner say, "Real funny" so I thought I better go take a looksie and then we laughed so hard that I cried. A picture of me & Rob on my 35th birthday cake. Too funny! It took my bro-in-law, Jeff, hours to get the superimposition just right and I loved it. I'll be trying to figure out how to make a poster of it soon enough.

Then I opened my cards and presents. My sister's opted for the breach of contract on zero gift giving to each other. Lyndee got me a gift card to my favorite Cheesecake Factory and Val got me a watch that is exactly the same watch I bought in California on Saturday. My watch broke in Mickeyland making it impossible for us to hit all shows, parades, & fastpass times so I broke down and went to the hotel gift shop. Val must've felt the vibe all the way in Utah because she was purchasing a duplicate watch at nearly the same time. Funny thing is that this watch is very mickey-original and not one I would even think that Wal-mart carries. Scary how much my sister's know me. My mom made me the cutest tote ever. The fact that I could shoplift a 32 inch TV in it isn't bad either. Her and my Dad and Gram also gave me a good amount of cash which will not be spent wisely but is still greatly appreciated. My best friend, Andrea, of 30 years was also in attendance which was unexpected since she lives in Taylorsville now, but I was so happy have her there (why didn't we take more pictures?)

One of the best things of all was the nice things people put in my cards and the trouble everyone went through to get there and to get that heavenly cake there. I really felt loved today so thank you. Your actions did not go unnoticed and Steven will not have to worry about getting me a 7 day prozac prescription now. I'm not 35 and holding, I'm just 35 and lucky.

Keep up those prayers on the two Travis boys. Just in case you haven't checked Karianne's blog, her Trav had a leak after his surgery so he is still in the hospital and will be there longer than they hoped. Her birthday was Saturday and she spent most of it at the hospital. Love ya Kar! Then there's T who is coming to the end of his chemo & radiation and it hasn't been rosy for him. I know you're remembering our Trav's in your prayers and we are most grateful for the precious time you spend on your knees for them and their families :-)

If You Build It, They Will Come

Why are we as parents so proud? And why is it so hard to not think your kids are perfect? A couple of days ago, the kids came running in the house to tell us they had built a fort. "Uh-huh we'll be out in a minute," Mandy & I say. We try to share in their excitement but since they have just interrupted our serious girl-talk time, we are not irritated, but also not as enthused as they are. I'm sure we both expected to come out and find the picnic table covered with a tablecloth, but to our amazement, we discovered this genius masterpiece of architecture. Those of you who were fort builders, unlike myself, are probably thinking big deal, but I immediately had visions of Emma engineering the next Sears Tower.

Then I see it, plain and clear, the flag. Aw cute and it says I love Dad. I immediately think of T, but Emma proceeds to tell me that Gavin didn't help with the flag, he was only hired for straight construction work. She reminds me that the flag also says GIRRRLLLS on it. "Right" I say and then the wheels in my head start turning.

Once again, the nine months of pumping milk from my chest and the constant running from dance, to piano, to friends, to school, to Wal-mart and where the crap ever else are overshadowed by the simple lessons in low-board diving and hitting from the left side of the plate. Maybe if I came home from work and immediately started throwing them from one couch to the other or pinning them with the classic body slam, the flag would've said "I love Mom." But it's ok, I will continue to be that annoying creature who lives in their home only to torment about taking baths, finishing homework, and practicing good oral hygiene.


Or maybe condoning this act will get me a little flag time:

It was about 40 degrees outside but Brooks de la Hoya and Cooper Marciano have things to take care of in the ring so they can't possibly wear shirts right now alright. Does Brooks show any hispanic blood whatsoever? Judging from his swing, there's proof of a little, but sadly no visual apparancy. Solamente gringo.

CRASH!!! Oh dear, that came from the way of Ft. Sumter...and I'm afraid to go look. I don't hear any crying but there's no way to tell if soldiers were inside at this point.











Gratefully, I have no casualties to report and there are currently no symptoms of tetanus either. The only unfortunate thing about this is now that my mom has seen Brooks with no shirt on and the collapsing calamity of '08, she will be calling shortly with a swift lecture. I'm not here Mom, but I love ya anyway (oh and can you watch my kids tomorrow night?)

E.J. and cousins immediately start rebuilding again. No crying, no whining, just get back to work and don't give up until it stands again. Did I mention that she's perfect? Maybe not totally perfect, but perty near close anyway.

I love a girl that can hold her own. Especially when she's my girl. Keep that flag flyin' chickie! Maybe when you're 20 and you realize that I just wanted you to be smart, clean, and confident, you'll paint that you love me on it too.