dr. mom to the rescue

As a parent, I'm finding that you also have to be a bit of a doctor-slash-private investigator to keep your kids healthy. Every so often I *know* something is not quite right with my kids. It takes me awhile to figure it out but thanks to my mom-friends, the inter-webs, and the teachers at our school I FINALLY put all the pieces together and figure out what's wrong. Today was a great case in point. 

Sloane has had a runny nose since November. We thought it was a cold, although she didn't have a fever or any other symptoms. It was cold season, after all, so that seemed obvious. Around this time, she also developed a weird bad-breath thing. No matter how much we brushed her teeth, she had this sweet yet stanky quality to her breath. I did a bunch of online research so when we took her to the pediatrician the first time, we mentioned the symptoms and asked them to test her for early onset diabetes. Test, negative. Antibiotics, prescribed. And things seemed to get better. 

A few weeks later, the runny nose was back with the congestion. The bad breath, back. Maybe worse. Back to the doctor. More antibiotics. Symptoms went away again, and as soon as the antibiotics were done, the symptoms came right back. Off we went to the pediatrician... again. He suggests nasal steroids since we don't want to overdose on the antibiotics, so we squirted stuff up Sloane's nose twice a day and brushed her teeth like 5 times a day to get rid of the epic bad breath. And things got better, for awhile. But a few days after her treatment was over, the toddler bad breath was back along with the stuffy nose and congestion. And we were stumped...At this point we were thinking allergies, chronic halitosis, or diabetes, or worse

On Friday, Sloane's teacher mentioned the 800lb stinky gorilla in the room. Sloane's breath is now the brunt of mockery in the class. Sloane is the "stinky girl." Luckily, our teacher had a relative whose daughter had similar symptoms. The diagnosis? She had shoved something up her nose. Foreign object in the nose = infected = sweet stinky breath = DUH!!! 

After a little online research and a 2-hour visit to Instacare today, yep...little miss Sloane had a "foreign object" lodged WAY up her nose. It was the size of an olive. A really stinky, bloody, gross and disgusting olive. The doctor thought it was some kind of styrofoam thing. Later, Tagg piped up and said it was Playdoh. Really?! This would have been good information to have while we were at the doctor's office instead of his running commentary about how much blood they were sucking out of Sloane's nose.

So, note to all you parents out there. If your kid has a runny nose, bloody nose, stuffy nose, congestion with no cold symptoms plus bad, stinky breath, take them to doctor and ask them to look for a foreign object shoved up their nose! There is probably corn or a cotton ball or a Lego stuck up in there. Or Playdoh.

The least gross, painful, sad, awful photo from our Doctor extraction extravaganza. She was such a brave, courageous littletrooper. But, yeah, this sucked (pun intended). Big time!

So what I'm saying is...this parenting thing is confusing! And hard. And kind of technical. And sometimes you don't figure it out right away and then you feel like an ass for not figuring it out sooner. But I think as long as you're trying and caring and doing your best, you're alright. And I hope nobody else has to see that nasty, gross nasal olive. Ever. So good luck, mamas and dadas everywhere! We'll figure this out.

out of sight, out of mind? the zion curtain...

If you live in Utah, you get used to some pretty weird shit. Especially when it comes to drinking laws. That probably comes from the fact that the liquor commission and our state legislature is comprised of a bunch of uber-conservative Mormon guys who don't actually drink and most likely think that everyone who does drink is one of Satan's minions.

So after years of one ridiculous law after another (remember the mini-bottles? where they thought they were controlling our alcohol intake but actually they were giving us double the shots. That was a good one. Plus I loved the little bitty Barbie bottles. So cute. And you've all heard about the Club memberships, right?), they've come up with a doozie.

We call it "the Zion curtain." Apparently if people, especially little underage people, see a bartender opening a beer or see bottles of alcohol sitting behind a bar, they will instantly transform into shot-swigging, beer-bonging alcoholics. Yep, that's all it takes. Never you mind about the good family values instilled by their parochial, upstanding, non-drinking parents and the church community and all the don't-drink PSAs and gory drunk driving videos in school. One glance at those fancy bottles and, poof! you're done for. Man, if it was that easy, marketing people would have been dancing in the streets.

So rather than have that devilish bartender whipping up margaritas or popping a beer right there in the middle of a nice upstanding family restaurant, our brilliant legislators and their cronies over at the DABC have devised this plan: Put up an opaque "wall" between the public and the evil booze man. No. I'm not shitting you. A partition to "hide" the alcohol from those innocent little children and, I'm assuming, those Sunday church-goers who must be DYING for a drink.

Leatherheads, a new sports bar which has been "Zion-curtained."
Decent bar, but when your bartender is running laps to the
back room, sweating, something just ain't right. See how clever they are
though? Blow up booze bottles so you know you're at a bar.

The other option for our beleaguered restaurant and bar-owners: you can keep your icky liquor hidden in the back room. To the customers, it will magically appear on a tray nicely delivered by your slightly sweaty, out-of-breath server who is now having to run triple-time to deliver adult beverages with adult meals.

Cuckoo? Right? One of the legislators, Senator Valentine, was on X96 the other day and he actually said that this was the only way people would be able to tell if they were at a bar or at a restaurant. Really? Really. So people are so stupid they can't tell the difference between a bar and a restaurant. For most Utahans, if it doesn't have a drive up window it doesn't count as a restaurant anyway, so that's one obvious tell. And when you try to walk into a bar with your five kids and their fake IDs don't pass the eagle-eyed bouncer, you might just might realize you're not at the family diner-slash-chain restaurant.

I love restaurants. The ambiance. The vibe. The buzz (not the alcohol one). I love that people who do this for a living spend hours agonizing over the details to make sure that the overall visual experience and flow and energy are just perfect as the menu and the service. Why a bunch of judgmental yodleheads make stupid decisions like this that screw up the experience for the 98% of people who are competent enough to manage their children's understanding of and experience with potential dangers in the world is completely beyond me. Not to mention the fact that every single person we entertain from outside the state walls thinks we are INSANE (we are a tourism state, people!). Come on! Factor in the irony that these are the same guys who passionately want government OUT of our personal business. My advice? Be careful what you wish for, boys. The Zion curtain may not stop with a nice glass of wine with dinner.

the guessing game

Tagg: That word is "the." It has my nickles in it.
Me: Your nickles? (thinking he want some monetary reward for reading)
Tagg: Yeah...my nickles. T and H.
Me: [processing]
Me: Your initials?
Tagg: Yep.

Mommy Interpretation Game. I win. This time. Teaching kids to read is harder than I thought it would be. Much like most parenting!

star wars birthday

Star Wars. Light sabers. Jedis and Jedi princesses and aliens and starships. An awesome 4th birthday party for my Star Wars-obsessed son is a vision in my head. Now how do I make that work, without a mylar balloon and plastic tablecloths and a grocery store cake? Pinterest, of course!

  

I wanted to throw Tagg a 4th birthday party he would LOVE. Star Wars. Water. All his friends hopped up on sugar, sugar, sugar. Maybe a battle of sorts. General insanity.

Mission accomplished! Thanks to Pinterest, and the big giant blow-up waterslide we bought (WAY more cost-effective than renting, FYI).

Step 1. The Vision.

Search for "Star Wars Birthday" on Pinterest. AMAZING what you can find. People are so creative. And I can copy! 

Step 2. The Cake.

First on the list...cake. I do not bake. My amazing sister found this local, just-starting-out cake lady (let me know if you want her name) and she was inspired to create the PERFECT R2D2 cake - legs made of Rice Krispie treats. Genius! It was a super cool, shockingly tasty chocolate cake, and...heavy! That was some serious fondant and gooey chocolate cake!

Our niece was born the day after Tagg, 2 years later, so we had cake-lady make her a special cake too. And Princess Leia Cake was born. The buns? Chocolate donuts. Seriously!!! How cute is that?! And she did it with just two days notice.

 

Tagg LOVED the cake(s)! He literally could not keep his hands off them.

 

Step 3. The Star Wars Ice Cream Bar.

What an amazing idea to theme all of the sundae toppings with Star Wars references.

Wookie Cookie Crumbles = crunched up Oreos. 

Cloud City Puffs = little marshmallows.
Gummy Ewoks = gummy bears. 
Han Rolos = rolos.
Asteroid Chunks = chocolate chunks,
in the grocery store near the chocolate chips.

Scooped the ice cream into cups before the party. Put them on a tray in the freezer and then just pulled the cups out when it was time to serve the cake. Super easy and such a time saver. Bonus...these cups were a dollar each at WalMart. Bingo! Nice not to have to chuck more plastic bowls.

The dudes attacking the sundae bar.

Step 4: The Treats.

Creepy Star Wars drinks...unfiltered, organic apple juice with gummy worms. Also known as Degoba Swamp Drinks. Kids loved them...or maybe that was just Sloane. Or the gummy worms.

Step 4: The Uniforms.

For the Leia's: Cut a piece of white diaper fabric (or some white, cheap fabric)into a 2' x 4' piece and cut a hole for the head. Then wrap some gold braid (cheaper is better than than the drapery braid I bought!) around it and you have a little Princess Leia, or 6.  

For the Jedi's: Do not get "authentic" burlap for the Jedi boys. It is itchy. They will NOT wear it. Something soft and brown would have been good, with a cheap cream or light brown twine or cord. It looks awesome with their swimsuits.

Harper modeling her Princess Leia outfit
with her pink light saber. 

The Light Sabers:

Jedi Masters in training.

Take some pool noodles cut in half, some duct tape (shiny silver and regular versions, if you want to be a little fancy. We did.) plus some black electrical tape and...you have waterproof light sabers!

Tagg was a great helper in making the light sabers and every one was a little different. We actually had a ball making them. And, happily, no children were harmed in the ensuing light saber battle. Scott might not be able to say the same...

The Jedis chasing Scott around the yard.
Not sure he's going to win this one.

See...girls like Star Wars too!

Even a Jedi princess needs a kiss from mom every once in awhile.

Little talking Yoda from WalMart made a great centerpiece
with star confetti and a black tablecloth.

something fishy

In an attempt to be healthy, drop some poundage, and get in summer shape, we've been cooking more fish lately. It's just barely getting warm enough to grill outside, so we cook indoors. Well, the reality check here is that Scott is also petrified of grilling fish. It sticks, it burns, it cooks fast, it falls apart. Let's face it. Fish is tricky.

And it smells.

We cooked cod last night, "fresh" from the meat counter. I get it. We live in Utah. No fish, other than trout or catfish, is probably truly "fresh." But you make do. The fish I got was not cheap. Purportedly not frozen. I smelled it, rinsed it, rinsed it again, smelled it again, and then I cooked it. In a pan. In. Side. My. House. Damn fool!

IT SMELLS!!!

It tasted great. But...The stench has lingered all night. After dishes were done. After garbage was out. After Lysol was sprayed and candles burned. After windows were opened and fans were set to high. It has kept me up all night. I will smell like fish tomorrow, I am sure of it. We may smell like fish forever.

So I finally turned to Google to help find some miracle cure for my stinky fish house. Tah-dah! Thanks, Chowhound.

I currently have a saucepan of cloves, oranges, lemon juice and cinnamon on the stove. And there's a bowl of white vinegar on the counter. If that doesn't work, I'm making cookies tomorrow, buying Oust, and getting a clothespin for my nose.

26 acts of kindness

Like everyone, I was devastated by the Newtown shooting in December. So shocking and unimaginable and horrific. As a parent, my layers of catastrophic thinking went into overdrive. I couldn't walk into the mall without suspiciously checking out everyone in a hoodie or with an oversized coat or a big bag in hand. That kept me very busy given that it was Christmas. In the winter. At the mall. 

At any rate, I happened to see this article about 26 Acts of Kindness where people are doing 26 randomly nice things for strangers in honor of those people who died so tragically at Newtown. I love that. Love, love, love. So for the next month or so I did what I hope are kind and generous things for strangers...leaving an extra large tip, paying for someone's dinner at a restaurant, buying a tank of gas for someone, shoveling the neighbor's driveway. It made me feel better. For a change, I was thinking about how to help people, how to make the world a better place. I was so aware of how very, very lucky we are and how little bits of money or love or goodwill are so easy to share. And how those small, easy things might make so much of a difference to other people. 

Tagg and Sloane would help me choose who to be nice to, and think of ways we could be kind to other people. They picked out toys to donate to the shelter, toys they wanted for themselves. Picked out candy and food for the food bank. I like that they thought about it because they have so much and are so used to getting anything and everything they need. I stole some ideas from the 26 Acts Facebook page. There were so many creative ways that people were sharing love within their communities. It was really inspirational and heartwarming.

But then my 26 Acts were complete and the tragedy of Newtown and those 26 innocent faces started to fade under the bright spotlight of new tragedies, raging debates, international drama, and the day to day chaos of life. Until today.

I pulled into Starbucks to grab a coffee and when I went to pay, the barista (cashier) told me that the woman ahead of me had paid for my order. Including my veggie breakfast sandwich. I was shocked. See, it's still paying forward, all that goodwill. I may have ebbed in my efforts but people are still doing little things to prove to ourselves, our children and each other that there is a lot of beauty, love and kindness in the world. That is what we need to foster, so IT festers instead of the ugly, the hate, and the violence. If we're all just a little bit nicer, a little bit more generous, a little bit more aware, a little bit more caring, think what a difference we could make.

To the woman in the minivan, I thank you for the refreshing reminder. You made my day. You made me smile. You made me remember to be kind. I paid for the car behind me. The first act in my next 26 acts.

sisters

Today is my baby sister's 40th birthday. It's hard to believe that we are in our 40s. How did that happen?! But it's also amazing to revisit the wonderful, rich, roller-coaster relationship that we've built over the years.

I'm guessing based on the Christmas tree that this photo was taken just a
few days or weeks before Tiffany was born. My last Xmas as the only child. I think that was probably
the best gift I got that year, even if I didn't know it.

I think I was excited to be a big sister till the day she was born (or came home, in some kind of freaky plastic torture carseat - and PS, nice shorts, mom) and realized I would have to share my parent's love, attention...my toys!

What was this business? I can't say I was that lovey dovey nurturing big sister that I wish I had been. But I seemed to fake it well. Isn't she so cute and tiny. She must have been about Carter's age in this picture.

Spaghetti face! That curl on the top of Tiff's head is trademark. Those natural curls started early!

I wish I had more of our growing up photos digital. Many of them were awkward. Bad hair, bad glasses, bad outfits. Much like our relationship. We fought. A lot. I remember getting punched in the face over a dead hamster. Screaming matches over clothes and Barbies. Blaming our dog Poco's broken leg (the result of a "let's play veterinarian" game I cooked up) on Tiff. And, seriously, punching in the face was pretty normal. We did not get along AT ALL. Until we did. And then we were roomies and training partners and best friends. Sisters. Sure, we still have our knock-down-drag-outs sometimes, but here's what I know. 

Prepping for the triathlon. I was ready to bail on this one
and Tiff kept me going. When I don't have enough strength for myself,
she's always there to fill the void.

Tiff's 5th Ragnar. With a smile on her face. She inspires me every day.

We walk for breast cancer, because there are no ass-cancer walks.
She never had to wear a hat or a color to support me during the tough times.

My sister is amazing. She is brilliant and tough and loving and patient and caring. She is talented and sweet and adventurous. She runs tri's and half's with me. She'll hike, waterski, snowboard, babysit, wine taste...whatever. She loves her musicals and movies. She is my best friend. My sister. And I can't imagine my life without her. Sometimes I wish I could rewind some of the past so that I could have more of the amazing moments we've had as grown-up sisters. But I'm not sure it would be the same. Some of the beauty of us today is all the shit we went through back in the day.

This face is the one I love. Just like all of her nieces
and nephews...they all adore Aunt Biff!

Run. Drink. Medals. This girl is a winner.

Happy Birthday, Tiffany! I love, love, love you! You are one of my greatest gifts. I hope that your birthday and your 40th year will be amazing. Just like you.