babe

Tagg's gotten into this funny habit of hollering "SCOTT!" when he wants Daddy to do something for him or wants his attention when he's not responding fast enough. "Scott! Scott! I want milk pleeeezze." or from the backseat of the car "Scott! Scott!"

So tonight we're sitting at dinner and Tagg says "I'm not done (with dinner). I'm Tagg Davis Harmer." Funny. Then he points at Sloane in her highchair and says, "That's Swoan." So we said "Sloane Ryan Harmer" which he parroted back perfectly. Then, "I'm Tagg Davis and that's Swoan Wyan." Happy he didn't call her Sloaney Baloney which is his nickname for her.

So now I'm thinking in my head (duh, where else would you think?) it would be great if he knew our names just in case he ever got lost or something so he would be able to tell an adult authority figure who to call.

Here's how the conversation went down from there:

Me: "Tagg, what's daddy's name? What do you call him when you don't call him daddy?"
Tagg: "That's Scott."
Scott: "What's mommy's name?"
Tagg: "Yeah."
Scott: "If you call me Scott instead of daddy, what do you call mommy?"
Tagg: "Yeah."
Me: "What does Daddy call mommy?"
Tagg: "Babe."

the birthday dilemma

Mom and Aunt Kris showing off their party planning results.

Sloane's first birthday is just over a month away. What to do, what to do? We went over the top for Tagg's first birthday...I blame Mom and Aunt Kris. They are way better party hostesses than me. We had balloons, a fish theme, a handmade fruit centerpiece, oodles of presents. matching tablecloths, napkins and plates with a fancy ribbon wrap on the drink glasses, delicious food up the wazzoo. Oh, and a blow-up waterslide.

And let's not even start with the presents. I found a cool playset at Costco, the last one, pre-assembled, so I bought the thing for like 1500 bucks and made Scott come down and pick it up. It was awesome, over the top, and Tagg wouldn't really enjoy for another year, but who cares! You should have seen us driving this sucker home...we both ducked under every street light, just in case. It was bigger than the duelie!

Know how to get a huge pre-assembled playset off a truck, over a 6-foot fence and into your yard? Mormons. Our neighbor and his guys were so awesome (or they just wanted out of church) - about 10 of them came over on Sunday in their suits and ties (it's July, mind you, and about a hundred degrees) and they hucked that thing over the fence and had it in place in about 5 minutes. Awesome! It was like a Mormon barn raising but with a playyard. That's the kind of stuff makes you want to join the church.

For the cake, we got a huge sheet cake for one party (Oh, did I mention we had not one but TWO parties? One for the fam and one for the friends when Tami and her little boy who is about Tagg's age were in town) and a mini Nothing Bundt Cake for Tagg to destroy during his first indoctrination into the lovely, delectable, undeniable world of artificially good sweets. Serious business.

So now I think we need to do something similar for Sloane because second kids always kind of get screwed on that stuff, right. Your parents went nuts, rented Disneyland, and bought you a Ferrari for your first birthday so your little brother got a stale cupcake with a used candle. Yeah, we can't go there. I mean sure, she's only one and she'll never know but I will.  Plus, I think as the oldest kid in my family I have a little guilt about my sibs' suckier birthday parties. So it's on...

I've got her first birthday photos set. Just need to decide what she's going to wear and what the "props" are - big cake? huge lollipop? giant balloon? why are all of my options oversized? Freud? Anyone? Whatever...Our photographer, Jodi, is amazing so I'm not worried about that. She'll make it awesome!

Any ideas on a birthday theme for walking, climbing, adventurous, full-tooth-grill, absolutely brilliant, adorable one-year-old girl? Maybe something monkey, jungle-y...? Mom, Aunt Kris...HELLLPPP!!!

flashback: reality check

From February 1, 2010:

There are days in life when you just don’t get it. What life's all about, the ups, the downs. Today is one of those days.

We just barely started thinking about pursuing the adoption thing hard core about 3 weeks ago when, out of the blue, an old co-worker from DEA who I haven’t seen in years emails me at my work saying she has a niece who’s pregnant with a little girl due in May, planning on adoption and looking for some advice. My first reaction was “we want her!” but I tried to be slightly less selfish and help her navigate the process.

On Friday, Bella emailed us asking if we could meet for coffee on Monday. A couple of days earlier, the adoption agency we’d been talking to called and asked if we could have a profile ready by Monday because they were meeting a birth mom on Monday who was due in May. Sounded a little too similar so we figured it was the same girl. Nope. We haven’t even finished our paperwork, haven’t paid a dime, nothing and now 2 birth moms due in the same month are considering giving us their child to complete our family. How amazing is that?! Could we be any more blessed than to have this opportunity?

The flipside…Dan’s brother Phil, my ass cancer friendie whom I’ve never actually met, is dying. His doctor sent out the call to the family to come and say their good-byes. He had the same cancer at the same age (just a year later), did virtually the same treatment with the same doctor and was fine. Got married, had a baby, a life. And then the coughing started. It was in his lungs. More chemo, more radiation. Gone. Then back. Bye-bye lungs. Family is scared. I am scared. Gone again. Then back. This time it’s in the brain. Don’t get your hopes up even though you have to keep your hopes up. And then, today, it’s time say good-bye.

A chat from Phil's family that night…
dan said if it wasn't for lisa, phil never would have had as much time with his little girl. i thought she should know

And that is the kind of thing that makes you happy and sad, grateful but guilty, thankful but fearful. Inspired to keep sharing my story and helping, hoping to save people or at least to remember to enjoy every possible moment of my life and my health and my good fortune. Or maybe it's both.

tale of the dog

So here's a story. A few weeks ago, on a snowy Monday morning, I was driving in to work and there, just past the Wal-mart on a busy street was this big brown Rhodesian Ridgeback looking dog. I drove past and watched him wander into traffic in my rear view mirror. Not good. So I flipped the car around and followed him into the Karl Malone (ex-Utah Jazz superstar, you know...Stockton to Malone!) Toyota parking lot. There was another guy there and a city cop and the poor dog was scared to death and wouldn't get anywhere near us. I, of course, had on 3 and a half inch heels on a snow day (shut it) so I couldn't exactly join the chase. I mean I'm pretty good at running in heels but not on the ice. Plus I'd left my conference call going on speaker phone in my car while I tried to woo this poor dog into my car. So I figured, hey, there's a city official here, he'll be just fine. So I went on to work, pull in the parking lot and boom! there's the dog. So I jump out and try to lure him in and he runs off again right toward the cop. So me and my heels went to work.

All week long we saw this dog darting in and out of traffic, trotting down busy streets, curling up under a tree in the mud and snow. I started feeding him, hoping he wouldn't head off to the freeway. It snowed twice. A lot. And every time we got close to the poor dog, his tail went between his legs and he cowered off just out of reach. Me? Sap. My heart was breaking for the poor guy.

And then he disappeared for a week. My worst fear! So I sent an email off to the local animal services and this lovely woman named Heather emailed me back and said she'd see what she could do. Sure enough, a week later, I get an email...they trapped him. Yep, in a cage. So sure, he's at the shelter but he's not smashed or anything. So I went to visit him and he was a doll. A big, scared, super skinny doll who stunk like a diaper pail but a doll nonetheless.

So, after his 5 day 'vacation' at the shelter, nobody claimed him and Heather called and said his time was up, so I picked up this huge dog (literally...he would NOT get in the back of the Tahoe so I had to pick him up) and took him home. He is a sweet dog, easy going with our dogs and the kids, thinks he's an 80 pound lap dog, and his name should be Shadow because he's always RIGHT there, no matter where you go. Which is also his "issue." A little separation anxiety means he can leap tall fences in a single bound and is the best canine Houdini I've ever seen.

So after a few hundred bucks in shots, neutering (sorry, buddy), food, leashes (he's been through 4), a new crate, and doggie day care, we're hoping for the best for us and Malone. If it doesn't work out, we'll be calling the Dog Whisperer.

i suck at birthdays

It’s one of those things that I always wish I was good at but I’m just not. I have friends (Amy and Natalie) and family (Tiff, Aunt Kris, Mom and MamaHama) who are amazing at birthdays. They always seem to find the perfect gift. The thing that’s sentimental, thoughtful, the thing you wanted but wouldn’t have gotten for yourself. And it’s always wrapped really cute and delivered on time if not before. Never a belated birthday required from this crew. I’m that person that gives a generic gift card or hand soap or some cheap but cost more than it should have jewelry, or a unique, creative thing like a Make Your Own Espresso Kit that they’ll never use and will probably end up in a charity donation within the year.

I also suck at cards but that’s a whole different story. And, to add insult to injury, I also recently crashed my personal Entourage account so my birthday reminders are MIA which means it’s up to my brain to remember birthdays (lotsa luck), or I need to be on Facebook every day to make sure I’m not missing anything, or I need to find time to recreate my personal database of life. If I could find my personal calendar, I would totally schedule that in.

So imagine my internal angst when the baby mama and daddy birthdays come around. I know I suck at this for people I see or talk to regularly so I know, or should know, what they like, need, want. I suck at this for people where I understand the relationship – you’re my sister, I can give you a pair of purple tights or diamond earrings and there’s a reason and a story that I can explain to you and if it’s weird it’s still okay because there’s never too much or too little because you love me because at least I tried (hopefully, on or before your actual birthday). When it’s the people who gave you your child, it’s so…well, so much more.

Tagg’s baby mama’s and baby daddy’s birthdays are within a couple of weeks of each other, right around Halloween. This year, Tagg and I painted some fall colored picture frames for them. He’s a really good artist, for a 2 year old. I’m actually “making” him do a couple more for me because they were so incredible. We added this amazing photo of him at 2, with his Cars cars and a scab on his knee and sent them off with birthday cards. I think it’s good. It’s definitely from the heart. But I wonder and worry if there’s ever going to be a point where they’re seniors in high school or in college or getting married and being reminded that there’s this amazing little boy in the world who they gave birth to and gave to us, or “gave up” as most people think of it which certainly captures more of the sacrifice involved, is just not right. They made this choice so they can do all of the things they wanted and needed to do, and be the people they were meant to be. I know they want to know about him and know that he knows about them and there will always be love surrounding their relationship no matter what path it takes. But is there ever a point where they’d rather have something like an iTunes gift card than photos and art that remind them of what they gave up? Or does it remind them that their life as it is and their future IS the birthday gift?

It was Sloane's baby mama's birthday - the big 21 - recently and I had the same angst. We went to lunch with her and her mother at Paradise Bakery because she said the best birthday gift ever would be to see Sloane. So I guess that's the answer, right? Or at least I can hope.

poor man's vegas...

...is the rich woman's perfect birthday gift. I was lucky enough to spend almost a week in Mesquite, Nevada, with my family for my birthday. If you're not familiar with Mesquite, it's about an hour north-ish of Las Vegas, just on the other side of the Utah border in sin-land! That's right...casinos, bingo parlors, cheap drinks, 70 degree weather this time of year and lots and lots of golf. The thing we like about it is that Vegas these days is, well...Vegas. I mean, whatever happened to the cheap buffets, free drinks, getting into the clubs for free and $10 blackjack tables? It now costs over 10 bucks a pop for a drink, cover charges are more than the uncomfortable but cute shoes I bought to wear, and I just may never be comfortable doubling-down on a $25 bet. Now, I do like the lovely restaurants. They've relocated a lot of my favorites to Vegas but, frankly, one or two night of gourmet dining in Vegas means I'm at McD's the rest of the time. Hey, a girl's gotta have some money for the other sins noted above - and shopping.


So my family has had a condo timeshare in Mesquite for over 10 years. We like it. Cheap drinks, cheap gambling, low key, lots of golf and let's face it people. When you're celebrating any birthday over 40, it's not so bad to spend it in a town where the average age HAS to be 67.

I feel like the hottest chick in town! I could strut my "wow-I-meant-to-be-in-better-bikini-shape-than-this body" at the pool and feel pretty darn good! Unless my lovely younger sisters were around, anyway. I am thinking about entering this contest someday...bring it, ladies.


Speaking of, we went to dinner one night at a four-star restaurant called Playoffs (used to be Carollo's ribs or something like that). Four-star restaurants in Mesquite are apparently judged by the fact that they are not in a casino and do not have a drive-up window. Either way, this joint has been a family tradition for over 10 years. So we're eating dinner - steak, ribs, salads, a bottle of wine, the works - and I asked for the check and when our server brought the ticket holder back with my card, there was no ticket, nothing to sign. I gave her my best "I'm confused" face and she said someone took care of our tab. WHAT?!? Who does that?! We hadn't talked to anyone, I don't think we looked that much like a homeless family, and unless my lovely sister was making googly-eyes at some guy named Gerald, we can't really figure out why this man decided to pay for our dinner. It kind of made me feel good about the world and the people in it and these days, that's a pretty good gift. So thanks, Gerald, you mystery man. The dinner was lovely, but restoring my faith in humanity was priceless.

it's the irish in me...

Tagg celebrated St. Patty's Day in style...green frosting on sugar cookies with green sprinkles. He likes to lick the frosting off the cookies with his fingers so it's a little impressive that he can make such a green frosting moustache. Thanks to Nana for making the sugar cookies. You're the best!

Scott and I wore nothing green, drank no green beer, ate spaghetti for dinner - the anti-Irish meal - and generally disregarded this traditional holiday. That's what happens after a week of vacation and 6 hours of driving the most boring freeway EVER! You just don't really give a shit about green beer.