Outsmarted, Outwitted

At some point in a lawyer's career, she will be outsmarted, outwitted, generally, out-lawyered. It has happened to me. And, on those (exceedingly) rare occasions where I have been truly outsmarted, outwitted and out-lawyered, I give credit where it's due. I'll read the judge's opinion, shake my head, and shake off the loss. If it's a well-deserved loss, I'll have learned something, and I won't make the same mistake again.

Today, I was outsmarted and outwitted--not out-lawyered. Because my opposition today wasn't a seasoned litigator or an over-driven newbie. Today, my opposition was my own flesh and blood. They outsmarted me. They outwitted me. They pulled the sibling card, and as an only child, I don't know whether to ground them, spank them, or reward their teamwork.

GiGi, adorable sweet little GiGi, has a sweet tooth. It's what keeps her so sweet. She also has the charmingly adorable little habit of chewing up food and spitting it out once the texture is just "so," or when something better is presented. Chewing hamburger when mom sets down a bowl of chips? Just spit it out and dig into to the crispies!

Today after naps, I left RJ and GiGi downstairs (alone--I deserve what they dish out) while I went upstairs to finish the adorable dress that I've started sewing for GiGi. (I'm lying. I was upstairs cleaning cat barf, but I aspire to do something more noble and creative.)  GiGi found jelly beans in the pantry. And, because her adorable little thumbs haven't quite mastered twist-ties yet, her brother opened them for her.

It wasn't until after supper when I heard the two little darlings giggling together on the couch that I investigated. "That's so cute! They're finally playing together!" My mommy-sense was twittering; my heart was aglow.

Jelly beans. Everywhere. Chewed up. Ground in. My shag carpet, once monochromatic reeked of 1974--multi-colored.

"Mom," RJ told me as I verbally exploded, "GiGi wanted them! She asked me for them!"

Outsmarted. Outwitted. Sibling-ed. I don't know whether to punish them or be thankful that they were getting along. Of course, as with any well-deserved loss, I've learned something. Jelly beans go up two shelves higher.

To my children who will someday read this, Congratulations. You've left mommy nearly speechless (after much, much yelling--I'm sorry for the yelling).  Thank  your lucky stars that we bought that new carpet steamer this morning. Chew your food. Swallow it. And, keep up the sibling power. You're already proving to be allies in this world. And for that, I'm grateful.

'Twas Most Splendid: Medieval Times

There comes a point in every family's life when they stop thinking about what's for dinner and who needs to be at gymnastics when. The bread catches on fire before supper because mom is daydreaming of beaches, lemon-tini's, and afternoon naps, and the trash bins overflow because dad is thinking about mom in a bikini, a glass of wine, and afternoon naps. Vacation desperation.

We reached a frazzled point of vacation desperation near the end of last March after a month where, collectively, we billed about 350 hours. We were exhausted. We needed to sail away. Get away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Because we're in Oklahoma, the easiest vacation is to go big--Dallas! (Actually, we had been planning on taking RJ to Medieval Times for a while, and in our vacation desperation, men in tights seemed like a splendid idea).

We found a an Expedia deal on the Omni Mandalay Bay in Las Colinas. It had all the amenities:

What is this curious contraption my lady? A corded phone you say? Most interesting!

Fine literature.

Attractive photo venues. 

In reality, the hotel was lovely. They greeted us with gift packs for RJ and GiGi, and the concierge station boasted an enormous bowl of fresh apples.  The main lobby entertained the wee ones with a swan fountain, and sunken nests of couches made for cozy seating around a central grand piano. 

The pool was smallish and coldish, and we avoided it. We did, however, attempt the playground: 

"Look mom, unpadded iron bars!" (It wasn't the safest playground equipment for smaller kids). 

And, the playground fronted on what the hotel generously referred to as a "lake." (Bigger than a cement pond but nearly as charming--and complete with very Texan gondoliers. It was odd if not entertaining). 

It's a balance beam! (This is about how far we could let her get from us on the playground. Not quite the relaxing evening on the lounge chairs that we were craving, but vacation-y nonetheless.). 

Our location in Las Colinas was critical to our vacation success; avoiding the car was key. We walked to dinner at a charming Italian restaurant (where we did not and could not enjoy a bottle of red or a bottle of white). The food was kid friendly and tasty for the adults too: 

She practiced for Medieval Times--they don't allow forks. 

She wore her princess dress too. (Two months later, I'm suddenly wondering where in the world her left sandal is; I haven't seen it in months!). 

Real princesses wear really big bows. 

We enjoyed breakfast at the Omni too, though if you're planning to visit with kids, don't do like we did and order off the menu. Get the buffet! It's toddler torture to watch loaded plates pass by the table again and again while you wait on your smiley pancakes. 

Final word on the hotel? It's lovely, but not a toddler oasis. But, on the plus side, it's not a toddler oasis. So, you might get the occasional sidewise snarky glance, but you don't have to deal with other crankier, louder, naughtier children than your own. 

We had planned on spending the morning at the pool on Sunday morning, but it was chilly. So, we made a game time decision and headed to the Dallas zoo. 

We're frequent visitors to the OKC Zoo, so we know the drill. And, we judge largely based on the amount of shade, the number of benches, and the ability to feed two small children in less than 10 minutes wait time. There's plenty of shade. 

The zoo has a decent children's zoo; RJ fed the not-so-hungry koi, and he met an owl up close. He chickened out on the pony ride; he won't be knighted this year I'm afraid. 

I have a rule on vacation: if anyone asks to ride a carousel, the answer is yes!

GiGi wasn't sure about it, but a lady does know how to ride (side saddle of course). 

I made him do this--bet you can't tell. 

While the zoo was shady and splendid, the fare left something to be desired. Specifically, the usual toddler chow (chicken strips) took over 25 minutes of line and wait time. GiGi survived. And, those thighs just make me smile. 

Finally, it was time for the main event.  

We planned ahead (I'm a little type A), so after a short wait we were welcomed immediately as guests of the yellow and red table. We donned our crowns and joined the fray: 

The castle is as impressive as concrete tilt-up gets. RJ was totally impressed; and the grown ups were totally entertained. 

GiGi didn't feel very princess-y in her crown. But, she loved the show. And by loved the show, I mean that she stood in my lap stomping and clapping the entire time. She was particularly fond of the green knight. 

RJ, on the other hand, felt very princely in his crown. 

The final finesse to his prince-wear? A ten dollar wooden sword (they also sell various plastic glowing paraphernalia. We deemed the wooden sword the most likely to last--and RJ's bestie has one. In a moment of un-parental thought, we decided RJ should have one so the boys could sword fight.).

The entertainment was top notch. No really, it was entertaining, and isn't that the key? The knights pandered to the ladies, tossing carnations to their chosen ones. And, according to the program notes, interested ladies can chat up the knights online (Is that weird? I think it's weird. But, there were some folks in the crowd who were there for a show. And, there were some folks who were there to find a knight in shining armor.). Generally speaking, however, the show was kid friendly. Near the end, RJ grabbed my arm and said, "Mom, I'm tired. I'm ready to go now." That's RJ Code for "I'm scared and worried."  RJ worried that the knights had actually stabbed each other, but after they returned for a final bow his knitted brow smoothed and he decided he could release my arm. 

RJ's final thoughts on the show? "Mom, our knight was really strong. He must have eaten all of his chicken!" 

(The food was surprisingly edible, by the way). 

Monday morning, we elected to avoid the breakfast debacle and headed toward Grapevine where we enjoyed cheap scrambled eggs and mall rides: 

She was much happier and ready to go after her eggs. 

Who needs Disney World? 

On vacation, if there's a carousel, we will ride it. 

Apparently, we need Disney World--or at least the friendly ride attendants. Because without them to mediate and marshal the line, GiGi is a beast. She kicked her brother out of the pink ice cream truck--with her pink sandals; it was serious business. 

We reached vacation desperation. Medieval Times delivered. And, 'twas splendid:

(She picked out her own shoes--of course). 

The cement pond really was lovely (in spots). 

Some pictures just tell a story and deserve a place in my memory book. (I'm smiling. I'm walking assertively. I am a self possessed confident woman--with my husband's wallet in hand.).

My Twilight Saga Continues: Day 2 of Pretending to be a SAHM

So, a week ago, I had a day as a SAHM, and I did awesome. The dishes were done. The children were happy. The house, ultimately, smelled like a pineapple resort.

Today, my twilight phase (not quite a SAHM, not quite a working mom) continued. And well, some days are like this I suppose:

Just a tangled up mess where I'm hoping for a quick rescue and perhaps a cleaning crew. (She did this herself; I'm just grateful for washable Crayons and Mr. Clean magic erasers). 

I have a friend who also works from home, and she and commensurate about the day-to-day challenges of balancing work with working with kids at home. I hesitate to call it a work life balance, because the real balance is work on one hand and working with kids at home on the other.  She and I have discovered that conference calls and tornadoes have something in common; both are best ridden out in a centrally located closet. That is, put as many walls between the conference call and the kids. 

Today was one of those closet conference call kinds of days.  I tried to listen to two voice mails and return one tiny little call. 

"Mom!" "Mom! Hey Mom!" 

"RJ, just hush it!" (I'm way too mean when I try to balance work with kids). 

I returned my call. Sent an email. I was out of the playroom for five minutes. 

"GiGi pooped on the carpet!" 

And she had. Actually, she had pooped her Huggie, taken it off, found the wipes, cleaned her bottom (as a 20-month old would), and tried to put on a new Huggie. 

If you're looking for a guilt trip, this is a pretty good one. My toddler daughter tried to change her own diaper because I was too busy trying to "balance." 

Here's the thing though, I spent 15 minutes scrubbing poop out of the rug this morning and another 20 minutes beating myself up about GiGi having to change her own pants, but this afternoon, I did this: 

RJ is a pretty darn good photographer. 

She's pretty proud of her "feet flops." (They're her brother's, of course. Woe to the woman who marries him, because his little sister has set the bar pretty high for RJ worship.). 

We swam. We ate hot dogs for lunch. We napped (last night was a late night after I remembered at 11:30 p.m. that I had a midnight filing deadline that I had yet to meet. Made it. 11:57 p.m. Score one for the twilight lawyer.).

We fixed the patio table that has wobbled for five years (major shout out to the good old fashioned ACE Hardware store with the killer gum ball machine that made a bolt-getting errand way more exciting for a five year old.). 

I returned my call and changed all of the other dirty diapers. And, while the guilt trip is sometimes longer than a drive to Canada, my twilight days are letting me enjoy the little things: 

It's summer, so they're getting to hang out together. There won't be many more summers that they'll want to cook together. 

There won't be many more summers that he'll want to wear his apron and chef's hat either. 

Someday they'll be working on computers and writing with ink pens. Well, GiGi has already discovered the finer qualities of the Uniball--it writes really well on weathered leather. Sigh. 

Okay, so this happened on Saturday, but donut ("dane-dane") day makes me almost as happy as it makes GiGi. 

In an effort to avoid the fourth episode of Curious George today, we painted our toe nails. RJ's nanny used to send me pictures of his crazy nap hair; I'm pretty grateful that I'm getting to witness it for myself for a couple of years. 

He wanted rainbow toes. She wanted red and blue. Who am I to judge? 

All in all, a pretty good day. Oh, except for the part where RJ pooped in the pool. 

Seriously.  The house did not smell like a pineapple resort. Where is my quick rescue and cleaning crew? 

My Twilight Hour or, My Day as a SAHM

There's this point in the day when the sun has nearly dropped out of sight, but its light lingers long enough to allow for preschool soccer games in the yard, a family walk, or just a glass of wine on the patio--the twilight hour--not quite day, but not quite night.

Right now, I'm in my twilight hour--not quite a working mom, but not quite a SAHM (stay at home mom) either.

Today, I pretended to be a SAHM. I think it went pretty well:

6:38 a.m.--Blink awake to take GiGi from her daddy, who thoughtfully has carried her downstairs. Realize that I have gotten 6.3 hours of sleep--all at once! I feel amazing. And GiGi wants to go back to sleep!

7:45 a.m.--GiGi is awake. So is her brother. There's no milk. No cereal. Throw some frozen Pillsbury mini-biscuits on a cookie sheet and turn on Curious George to distract the kids while the biscuits bake.

8:05 a.m.--Breakfast is served! Episode Two of Curious George. Block the kitchen door with a broken baby gate (it's the thought that counts) and take 20 minutes to make myself pretty for the day.

8:10 a.m.--Pinterest lies. My hair is not falling in gentle waterfall-like waves after having worn it in adorable triple braided buns. 1985 called. It wants its crimping iron back. Scrape hair into ponytail and focus on face.

8:15 a.m.--New Birchbox "CC" cream has reacted violently with new acne regime (yes, you can be 35 and still have pimples like an angst ridden 13-year old). Splash cooling water and start over. Locate cream for sensitive skin as face now looks like raw hamburger meat. Focus on wardrobe.

8:18 a.m.--Green neutralizes red, right? Put on neon green workout top as (1) 1980s shout out to my viciously crimped ponytail; and (2) commitment to work out tonight. It's not too early to commit.

8:25 a.m.--RJ has never done the hand jive?! Download Born to Hand Jive for afternoon spontaneous fun.

9:30 a.m.--Kids are dressed. Head to WalMart for cereal, milk, various flavors of Kool Aid (for super cool pasta dye that I found on Pinterest), and pasta.  RJ asks, "How many things do we have to buy?" Respond, "It doesn't matter. You're along for the ride." Whining ensues. Threaten to put RJ in timeout all day for back talk.

9:40 a.m.--Confirm safe room installation via cell phone.

10:00 a.m.--Leave WalMart with various flavors of Kool Aid and two kind of pasta.

10:15 a.m.--Petco has discontinued the cats' special, no-barf, sensitive system kibble. Find new special, no-barf, sensitive system kibble. RJ wants to look at rats. Good God. No. Just, No.

10:20 a.m.--Check email and voice mail from work. Return call to opposing counsel. GiGi sings the ABC's while I leave a voice mail. (She knows all the way to "G"!)

10:30 a.m.--Playdate at the park with our former nanny. An hour and a half of lovely adult conversation.

Noon--Lunch! Chicken nuggets for the kids and a Hot Pocket for mom. Re-commit to workout tonight.

12:30--Nap, glorious nap time. RJ goes down without a fight. So does GiGi. I have this SAHM thing so under control.

12:45 p.m.--Dishes, laundry, bathroom vanities, cat barf. These are the things I cleaned.

1:27 p.m.--Scoop cat litter. Take out trash. Refresh all the Scentsy in the house so that it will smell like a pineapple resort when Hubsie gets home.

1:30 p.m.--Return call to opposing counsel. Have rousing discussion as to why I'm not scared to fight this one.

1:42 p.m.-- (I billed a .2!) Call co-counsel in L.A. Confirm that I'm not scared to fight this one. Ask permission to practice law as a human (sometimes it takes effort to convince out-of-state folks that we recognize human-like characteristics of even our opposing counsel here in Oklahoma).

2:30 p.m.--RJ is awake. Episode three of Curious George.

3:00 p.m.--GiGi is awake.

3:10 p.m.--GiGi is coloring princesses. Situate RJ on his stool with alphabet pasta and tweezers. Instruct him to find the letters in his name. I read on Pinterest that he would think this was super fun, and it would develop his fine motor skills.

3:13 p.m.--RJ is off the stool trying to put his finger in GiGi's ear.

3:15 p.m.--Set the timer for 15 minutes. Make RJ pick up alphabet pasta with tweezers so that he'll have something to eat for dinner.

3:18 p.m.--Snack time. (These kids need to eat again?!)

3:20 p.m.--Take burning popcorn out to garage. Open windows.

3:30 p.m.--Curious George, episode 4. I'm not proud. But it was snuggle time.

3:32 p.m.--"RJ, stop licking me! It's just weird!"

4:00 p.m.--Head to Braum's for milk and cereal.

4:05 p.m.--Distracted by neighborhood park. Stop for playtime.

4:10 p.m.--Take cell phone pictures of children having delightful afternoon treasure hunting and playing at park. Proof! See, I can do this SAHM thing! The kids are smiling after 4 o'clock! We've almost survived the day!

5:00 p.m. Leave Braum's with milk and eggs. 

5:15 p.m.  Feed RJ and GiGi sorted alphabet pasta. Eat frozen burrito (it was homemade, in my defense). 

5:30 p.m.--Teach RJ and GiGi the hand jive! Isn't Mommy spontaneous fun?!

5:50 p.m.--Text from Hubsie. He won't be home until 7!

6:13 p.m.--Play the sippy lottery. Won. It wasn't milk! Cup without a safety valve--red Kool Aid on the rug (seriously, who builds a house with white carpet?!). 

6:30 p.m.-- Bath time. Let the kids paint with shaving cream. Dress RJ in adorable Batman PJ's. 

7:00 p.m.--Daddy's home!

7:10 p.m.--"Mom, I peed my pants." Dress RJ in girls red size 4 yoga pants. In my defense, they fit him perfectly. 

7:15 p.m.--Family walk. RJ looks like a show choir major. Crocs, Batman shirt, yoga pants, and a coffee (milk) tumbler in hand. 

8:31 p.m. --What just happened? Kids are asleep. 

8:34 p.m.--Shower. Finally. Soak the crimps out of my hair. 

9:00 p.m.--Hello Kitty fleece pants. I'll work out tomorrow. 

9:01 p.m.--We're out of cereal. 

To all you SAHM's out there--hat's off. I'm exhausted. But, I'd do it again--any time, any day. Except tomorrow. Because I have a hearing. 

It's my twilight hour. Not quite a working mom. Not quite a SAHM either. Somewhere in between. 

TGIF

It's Friday. There's bad weather inbound. I'm crabby. So, here are some things that make me not crabby:

They cook with me now. RJ thinks he's too cool, but it doesn't stop him from enjoying the spoils. 

He wanted to wear a pencil behind his ear so bad. He feels so big. 

She picked out her own shoes. Let's just hope her Dorothy slippers don't summon the Oz-style storm.

How does this not make you smile?

Her brother is a pretty darn good photographer.

This wasn't bananas. Some nights, you just have to make peace with the fact that healthy isn't happening. Some nights, it's okay to feed them chocolate ice cream for supper. You know, if that's what makes you less crabby and all. 

Happy Friday!

Two Weekends and a Fun Day

I found my missing memory card! And I added a few things to it, so it's time for the inevitable mommy catch-up post.  (It was in my glove box under a bag of suckers and a package of dried up baby wipes--never let it be said that I'm unprepared).

Anyway, we survived the last couple of weeks of school, complete with fun day:

If you give 11 boys a sponge relay, they will turn it into a sponge war. And it will be way more fun than a relay--even if it does get the parents in trouble with the teacher. We weren't exactly the best chaperones; they probably won't let me go on the class trip to D.C. when RJ is in the 5th grade. But it was totally worth it. 

Paint the walls with water? Water fight! They might not let me go on the class trip to the pumpkin patch next year. Chaperones need discipline. 

But fun? Yes. Yes, it was fun. The most fun. I hope these two have many, many more days that make them feel this happy. 

We touched some trucks! (Which is way better than what RJ is usually touching, or GiGi for that matter--we're learning about personal space.). RJ loved it, for the most part. GiGi tolerated it, very begrudgingly. It was loud. 

He wanted a picture in an Army truck to show his dad (who was out of town for the first time that RJ could remember). It was really loud. 

Dad wasn't just out of town; he was out of the country. There were storms--really bad ones. This is how we slept for a week. I'll tell you I hated it. I'll tell you it was miserable and sleepless. But really, I wanted them there beside me where I could smell their sleepy heads and tickle their toes. 

I have one rule about toys: No Power Wheels. 

I may have promised GiGi a red convertible for her 16th birthday (and all the Oreos she can eat, to be paid immediately) if she sleeps through the night, but I was superseded. She hasn't slept through the night yet (my apologies to all the new moms out there--of course they sleep through the night! Eventually. When they're 5.). 

It's excessive. It's unecessary. 

It's absolutely the most fun they've ever had (and this includes Disney World), and grandparents are the best, bestest in the whole wide world.  RJ even let his sister drive. Her legs are too short to reach the pedal--singular. So, big bro took charge; he took control of the gas, and she took the wheel. 

  

They washed. 

And scrubbed. 

They got along for a blissful hour. 

Every boy remembers his first car. 

And, someday GiGi will be Miss America (after they turn it back into a classy pageant and bring back the one piece swimsuits, of course); so, it's good for her to practice riding on the back of a convertible. 

GiGi's legs are almost long enough for her Hot Wheels. 

Almost. She's not happy about the short fall. She's even more unhappy that we won't let her free fall from the top of the driveway to the street. 

Here's the thing about digital photography: we can take a thousand pictures and delete the out takes leaving only the best of the best. But, sometimes, the best of the best isn't posed. It isn't a clean room or a perfectly posed hug. It's a view into the future of two best friends enjoying a drink together. (And yes, she's wearing his Crocs--she still has a thing for shoes). 

Sometimes, the perfect picture just tells a story. This is a story of a little boy who played hard and napped harder. 

I'm pretty proud of this. Mommy successfully took RJ to the store to pick out a tee ball helmet, and we picked a good one. 

GiGi thinks so too--good thing, because Little Miss will be wearing her big brother's hand-me-downs for a while. 

It is a tradition passed down for generations. The first frigid swim of the season. 

But we did it! We swam. We conquered. We went home to warm showers. 

And, the best part of the walk home? 

"Mom, I'm making up a song. It's gonna make you laugh so hard, God will hear you.  It's gonna be so funny you'll need a binky to stop it!"