Gotta love a man...

Gotta love a man who thinks these are sexy. This was the most complimentary Christmas present I've received in a long time. Mister found a song by Keith Anderson that goes something like this:

You should see her every mornin', In my faded flannel shirt.
Wearin' her Big Bear slippers: She's so sexy that it hurts.


Says the song reminds him of me. (Collective "awwwwww", please) Granted, they aren't big bear slippers, but seriously, a man who thinks these are sexy?! Might be too good to be true.

Christmas Break - Lutsen

Christmas 2008 was spent at a little ski resort in Northern Minnesota, Lutsen. Two years ago we were there, Pants took some lessons and a good time was had by all. This year was much the same. She, amazingly, picked up right where she left off in the skiing department and by the end of the week was tearing it up off the Gondola runs. It's just a blast!

Most of the day she would follow me down the hill and I could hear her sing the entire time. I knew she had fallen when I couldn't hear her singing anymore.

I have to say it was a good ski trip for Pants, but me? Meh, Lutsen has nothing for me, really. The lifts are long and you freeze your ass of getting to the top, then the runs are too short to actually warm up. So for me it was ski three runs, and head to the chalet for some of mommy's "special" hot chocolate... you know what I'm talking about.

And for my afternoon enjoyment there is a bar/restaurant called Papa Charlie's at the bottom of the hill with a fabulous bartender and Warren Miller ski movies playing on the big screen. If I couldn't shred on this mountain I got to at least live vicariously through the television. I had to laugh so hard at some of the ski clothes. Then stopped laughing as I remembered the various hot pink, hot lime, purple, etc. ski gear that we wore. Proudly I might add.

The Christmas Tree is up... yet unnamed which is unusual for our home. The newest addition to our tree is the squirrel that sits in the back toward the trunk a la "Christmas Vacation".

When I was little, my sister and I used to fight over who got to put the star on the tree. I suppose it's one of the benefits of being an only child is you always get to top the tree.

"Daddy! I painted my face...

... and now I look just like Moosie!"

This is the email I received on my PDA while sitting in my Transportation Committee meeting. Picture this: I'm up to my eyeballs in the 2030 Transportation Policy Plan briefing and like a FOOL, I open up this email and the attachments.

Needless to say, I guffawed, snorted, cried and otherwise tried to maintain composure while fellow Councilmembers looked over in distain at the distraction. Apologies were uttered and my PDA was passed around for all to enjoy.

Oh it gets better: Remarkable-imagination-child did this, unsupervised, in 7.5 minutes ... with permanent marker. But by gum, she DOES look just like Moosey. Mom, I'm very sorry about the Thanksgiving pictures.

Rewind a few days. Pants and I are cozied up on the couch reading Lost in the Woods. It's a lovely little book about a deer fawn and his woodland friends. Most notable is the chipmunk character who believes the fawn to be lost. Exhibit A: stock chipmunk photo. After the story is over, Pants disappears for oh, about 7.5 minutes and you'll never guess what came out of her room..?

"Mom! I'm a chipmunk!!" What you can't really appreciate in this photo is

• the fur vest she has on is from Christmas 2 years ago and a tink small.
• she has my cat ears on from Halloween circa 1994,
• she has taken masking tape and taped two stripes down her back with toilet paper... yes, Charmin
• and stuck the cat teaser feather down her pj pants as a tail.

The frightening part? I have no idea where she found many of these items! I mean, do you have cat ears from your past lying about and handy?

I am the unfortunate unimaginative parent of a child with an amazing imagination and a penchant for woodsy creatures! You know me, I don't have an imaginative bone in my body (hence my propensity toward politics). My coworker, Chris, astutely observed that I need another child as this one, clearly, doesn't have enough to keep her busy (point of fact... I think she keeps plenty busy.) But, hey, I can get on board with another child. Someone call my husband.

So parents of creative children... any and all suggestions are appreciated!

Has it really been since July that I've posted? Not surprising. I'll see if I can catch up in a quick update. Get in, sit down and hang on as we blow through summer at the Beach House.

Pants flew solo to Memaw's for the first time. Too many emotions to list. Needless to say the look on her face is, "Moooom, I have to go! No time for pictures, kisses, tears... whatever!"

• Computer crashed and had to be entirely reloaded. Lost many many bits and bytes of information. I'll use this as the best excuse for falling so far behind.

Made the annual trip up to super nanny's lake cabin - recruited super nanny II - the younger sister of super nanny. Major coup! This place is gorgeous and calm and an amazing place to hunker down for a long weekend.

The Republican National Convention was held here in St. Paul. I was in heaven. This is a view just outside the Xcel Center (where the Wild play hockey). The red banner behind us covered the entire side of the center. Mister and I had credentials to attend two nights of the convention and it was an experience to remember!

Turned one year closer to 40 and got a sweet new bike for my birthday.

• Pants started school. Why was I the only mommy crying after dropping her off?
  
Missed my 15 year college reunion. Mmmm - too much drama to squeeze that in.

The leaves in October were gorgeous, so we took a family fun day to Afton Alps. The ski swap was in full swing so I bought some sweet new boards for winter. On the way home we stopped at an orchard to buy apples - and nearly brought home a kitten. Took our apples and baked this kick-ass apple pie.

Halloween came and went. SNII made this costume with Pants and she loved every minute of being "Ploodle" (Get it? Pluto/Poodle... "Ploodle" just makes more sense).And now as we settle into the beginning of a Minnesota winter we find creative ways to keep busy indoors. Pants has discovered the art of labeling (hence the masking tape label "Elliot" on the cat). I think this neurosis was passed down from me. Pity the person who stands between me and my PTouch labler.

And that friends, is Summer/Fall at the Beach House. Stay tuned for the new family docudrama premering Wednesday known as The Family Holiday Season! We're headed to Denver Wednesday for a very Karna Thanksgiving -few will know what that is, but those who do will appreciate it ;)

Grace, baby. Grace.

So we did a little fingernail painting tonight. The pink kind. Then she wipes the wet polish on my FAVORITE and EXPENSIVE run around the house pants. (You know the kind that are dry clean only that have no business being 'run around the house pants', but you got them on sale and they're friggin' adorable? You know? Those!)



"Oops, I got polish on your pants."



"OH PANTS!" and what do I do? Yeah, I'm my mother's daughter (and I'm sooo going to hear it on this next comment...) and I throw the polish bottle on the floor (capped, don't panic) and stomp into the bathroom to try futile damage control. Yes, I even slammed the bathroom door for good measure. Steam steam steam. My cute pants? Ruined? My little Pants? Oh, she's sitting on daddy's lap watching a great movie? See, when I'm an irrational pain in the a@@, he kicks into superdad mode. Great! So not only did I lose my temper, but Mister Superdad shows me up. *sigh*



I cool off outside and paint my own toes... they're very cute by the way. And come back inside to do the bedtime thing.



To set the scene, I'm leaving for a long weekend in Dallas tomorrow morning which may have contributed to the temper tantrum (that and a pile of other things... but we'll not go there today.) As I tuck her in I tell her I'm a little grouchy. She apologizes for getting polish on my pants and we have a sweet moment of "thanks for that and I know it was an accident and I'm sorry for losing my temper and ... and... and... ". Then she says to me as she's getting all tucked in, "I'll miss you while you're gone." I'll miss you too, honey. Then the grace of all graces:



"I'll pray for you every day when you're gone." Oh sweet girl, if you only knew how much I'm going to need it. Bless her heart!! Does one ever deserve the kind of love one's children are capable of giving and routinely give?



Then she asks me to sing her hymns as bedtime songs from our hymn book. I pick "Come Now Fount of Every Blessing" and "Angels From the Realm of Glory." Now, I ask you, after a good old fashioned hymn sing, how could I stay grouchy? God blesses me daily with her childlike faith. I think it's God's way of reminding me of how little we deserve and how much we have been blessed with. I'm humbled.... and not grouchy. And sorry for being so fussy about my pants.


She is a blessing to me each and every day.

Out of the mouth of my babe...

Pants and I got her a library card today. We went to the library, filled out the forms... she filled in her own first name and picked out the pretty pattern on the card and dutifully signed her name on the back. Then we went book-hunting. Fancy Nancy, Junie B. Jones, and my personal favorite, Nancy Drew.

Fast forward 15 minutes to the car on the ride home: "Mom, I think I want to skip Kindergarten so I can go to college... I know math, I know how to read and I can spell my name." Give a kid a library card and she's going to want a scholarship.

One more quote I couldn't resist posting. Many of you know I don't cook. At all. For lunch today I thought I'd do a little Rachael Ray ham and cheese waffles with honey mustard dip. Kid friendly, I know how to use the waffle iron, Rachael Ray... you get the picture. And I quote: "Tastes like ham poision." They tasted alright to me.

Bumpa, THIS is how you work the remote

Dad was in town last weekend and did some Grandparenting while Mister was out of town and I was working late. He picked up said grandchild from Farm School, fed her the requisite ravioli, bathed and pj'd her and as is custom at the Beach House, Miss Pants wanted to watch a little Sprout Channel before bed-time.

One problem... Bumpa had not mastered the remote. There is no shame in that, mind you, it has baffled many a babysitter and guest not to mention the mommy. Mister is the master of the remote.

Undaunted, Miss Pants decided to help Bumpa with the remote. She patiently drew instructions on which buttons to press to get her beloved Sprout Channel up and running. Then apparently very IMPATIENTLY tried to get Bumpa to "make it happen." I has to giggle a little when I saw this amazing likeness to the remote lying on the coffee table when I came home.

She lost a tooth!

Not a very creative blog title but I wish you could hear the angst in my voice. Wasn't it just the other day when that tooth was FOUND!? Didn't Miss Pants work so hard to get that tooth in? And now, cruelly, it falls out. I'm really fighting this "growing up" thing she's up to. Yet aren't I constantly admonishing her lately to "lose the baby talk". Which is it?

I know, I know, our job as parents is to grow them up and out into productive members of society one tooth at a time. It's just that little gap in her smile and her new little lisp are constant reminders that she is no longer a little girl and has even eclipsed "big-girl" status. She is all GIRL. All knees and elbows and missing teeth; braids in her hair, popsicle sticky face and dirty summer feet; skinned knees, bruised shins, and tan lines from living in her swim suit. And I just eat her up...

She, on the other hand, is so proud. The first words out of her mouth after, "Mom, I have something important to tell you... I was brushing my teeth and it suddenly fell on my tongue!" were, "Max is going to be so jealous." So while I'm quietly freaking out on the inside and encouraging her "That's so great, honey!" on the outside, for her? Status, baby. It's all about status.

And they said it wouldn't last...

Here we are... wine country... June 17th 2000. I had to search high and low for this photo this morning to commemorate Mister's and my 8th wedding anniversary. Not for lack of photos mind you, but for lack of in-focus photos. You see, our photographer was drunk. In his defense, he did work at Chandon, one of the best sparkling winerys in Napa/Sonoma valley. However, it's always a good idea to show up sober when one is capturing arguably the most important event of a person's life. Then again, I'm not sure anyone was sober at our wedding ... show of hands? Anyone? Anyone?

But today, a toast to my sweet husband. We paired up like a nice chardonnay - a light straw color with a glint of gold, a clean scent suggestive of flirt. Even today these impressions are repeated on the palate with a very slight buttery finish and a subtle hint of French kissing in the background. Mister has good depth with an ideal balance which will lead us to a fresh, silky finish. (Thank God, because "balance" is not something I was created with).

Once married I tasted the deep, expressive aromas and flavors of a life long commitment - it has nuances of mocha and spice. We developed an elegant structure with steadfastness and belief in one another. It's a family blog, but I have to say, extended skin contact has intensified our "varietal complexity". Our marriage ages in the home and life we make for ourselves; we bottle our conversations without filtration to capture the full flavor and lush texture.

As expected our marriage is a challenging and rewarding one to produce. Severe selection criteria (Mister will attest to this) and master blending show in the final product, which showcases a wide array of adoration and commitment including tremendous amounts of laughter and love, not to mention one adorable Miss Pants. (Who asked by the way if we got a parade on our anniversary or a medal or something... Mister replied, "I should get a medal" and I wholeheartedly agree - I want the parade!)

Despite a few "bad cork days" (Pastor Neil), this marriage is ready to drink now and will continue to develop complexity over the next three to four years... I'll report back then on how the vineyard is growing.

Grand Old Day

There is a big street festival here that happens the first Sunday in June rain or shine. Been there. This year we were blessed with 80 degrees and sunshine. (Of course we haven't seen it since, so it's a blurry memory. Good thing we got pictures.)

One of the highlights of Grand Old Day is marching in the parade. Pants has marched with us in the backpack, graduated to the wagon and this year... TA DA!

Poodling

If it's Memorial Day weekend, we're up north at Poodle Camp aka Tante's lake place.

We arrived with Pants' friend MP and her mom DP on Friday afternoon, set up the tent, made a gin and tonic and got down to the business of relaxing. Pants and MP were in or around the water all weekend and the weather was glorious. Good thing it was warm since ice-out on this lake was just two weeks ago. Welcome to camping in the Northwoods.

All in all, there were six Sr. Poodles this year and 10 Jr. Poodles. I tried to get away with not being classified as a Sr. Poodle since there are as many years between me and some Sr. Poodles as there are between me and some Jr. Poodles, but just ask them, the Jr. Poodles will attest, "duh, you're a Sr. Poodle."

And, Pants caught Bobby the Perch as well as Larry, Loni, and Linda the Leeches. Please tell me why we name our parasites? She did not find the lone tick name-worthy. Pretty unimpressed with that critter.

We saw and listened to the Baltimore Orioles sing, we saw a bald eagle flying high overhead, and heard an owl too. Pants and Tante took a nice nature walk together - they are good friends. But, the piece de resistance is the Sauna. Authentic. Finnish. Cedar. Sauna. MP and Pants enjoyed their sauna then ran like crazy girls off the end of the dock and jumped in. (Reminder: they are naked and ice-out was 2 weeks ago in these parts... the water is COLD.) So we adults felt compelled to do the same. ;) We are worthy of being called "The Ultimate" for our naked sauna dash into the lake. Twice. Two nights in a row.

First step toward emancipation

Our Pants graduated from her preschool yesterday. As another parent put it, "Her first step toward emancipation."

As another mom and I looked through the program we agreed that we had a lot of history with these names listed down the left hand side of the program.

The friendships formed here have never felt stronger than this year. Five years of being acquaintances - passing each other at drop off or pick up - became more personal. We attended birthday parties together, lamented over the search for Kindergartens together, made more personal connections with child centered play dates and the occasional grown-up centered adult date. I'll miss seeing these friends and their children every day.

There was a slide show with pictures of each child and their families - some beautiful and moving photography. As I saw each toddler picture flash, I was struck by that "ah - ha" moment that "HEY! They don't look like that anymore! They're big kids! When did they do all that growing up? I've been watching the whole time."

They sang "You Are My Sunshine" for us and I cried. It was sweet to see these kids, so proud of their accomplishment, standing tall and singing on their special day for the special people in their lives. For the actual graduation, Mr. Nathan stood up front and introduced each child who in turn walked up from the back of the chapel with their graduation cap on to receive their diploma.

"Pants"
Pants' favorite time at school is nap time. She wants to be a mom when she grows up, 'there's no better job' she says. Pants will be attending Park Elementary." ... and the sweet girl marches up front to receive her diploma then sits cross-legged and watches her classmates do the same.

Did you hear that?! "A mom" she says. "There's no better job!" she added. All along she's been sticking to her "I want to be an artist" story and then in a moment she makes my heart explode with the "I want to be a mom." She loves me, she really loves me!

"Sam"
"Sam's favorite time at school is ten o'clock. He wants to be a 'karate-guy' when he grows up. Sam will attend Lowland Elementary." 'Ten o'clock'... what a sense of humor!

"Aaron"
"Aaron's favorite time at school is 'area time'. He hopes to be a garbage truck driver when he grows up. He will be attending Liberal Lakes Elementary." His mom must be so proud.

So all diplomas are awarded, the children come sit with their parents for the final tearjerker of a slide show. As all the pictures come up, Pants is whispering her narrative: "That's Sam. That's Maria. That's Mattie. He's a vegetarian. And he has two mommies." Thank you for that ... and just so you can picture my true chagrin at the sweetly whispered moment: both of Mattie's vegetarian mommies are sitting directly in front of Pants. I'd like to think they didn't hear.

We're a movin' on up...

Our lovely Wonder Nanny of 3+ years has graduated from college. We were invited to her family graduation dinner and when her dad gave us the ultimate toast, introduction and compliment all in one there was not a dry eye in the room. A bittersweet time for her as she has had SO MUCH FUN in college! Now onto the job hunt and, well, nannying for us in the meantime. Is it wicked to hope she doesn't find a job? So little toast to her and some of my favorite memories and qualities:

Interview question: "Do you cook?" Yes? You're hired.

Questions from interviewed to prospective employer:"Will you come over to hunt mice at 11pm?" "Will you come over and do a jell-O shot with the roomies and me before we go out?" Yes? I'm hired.

This sweet girl would show up at our home at 5:30pm to babysit dressed in college sweats but when Mister and I rolled our sorry selves home at 11:30pm she was showered, hair all done, going-out makeup and cute cute clothes on. She'd happily take her cash and head to one of the local establishments. Seriously, do you even remember the days when the evening BEGAN at 11:30?? I digress...

So Wonder Nanny is moving to a "grown up" apartment (a far cry from the college crash pad or mouse infested hovel) that she's been living in these days. A tribute to her dining room table. This explains Pants' propensity to say "Chug it! Chug it! Chug it!" as she finished her glass of milk.

They share secrets in Pants' "diarea" (that's diary but it comes out diarea hee hee.) Wonderful things are shared in there like the time WN kissed a boy she *gasp* wasn't married to! And Pants' confession that the scratch on her forehead was indeed caused by the cat, as suspected, and not "myself" as relayed.

One of the first summers WN nannied nearly full time she made a tentative phone call to me at work, timidly asked, "How do you discipline Pants?" Understanding that our pint size Beach House cruise director was getting the best of her captor, I promptly assured WN, "Honey we are not paying you to take shit from a 4 year old if you know what I mean. Do what you need to do, we trust you." From then on Pants clearly understood who was "the boss". Love it!

One of my favorite memories: one of her first days, WN blows into the house, loves up the kid, traipses into the kitchen, helps herself to a plate, sets Pants a plate and helps herself to the meal Mister had made for them. I stood there with my mouth open thinking, "I love this girl who is so comfortable in our house!" I'm also confident that the remainder of said meal went home with her in a doggie bag for lunch or dinner the next day.

Her self confidence, her presence of mind, her warmth and engagement is so rare for young women. I am so proud of her and she will go far in this big world. Congratulations!

If Your Friends Jumped Off a Cliff, Would You?

Okay, everyone now has a blog, so what the heck... I'm in. Just don't share with anyone outside the family until I'm out of politics.

For my first post (until I'm brave enough to get more personal), I give you Miss Pants' Spring Recital. Mister suffered through the very first recital where she squeaked out "The F# Song" (essentially the first 4 notes of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star). The next year she played "The Bread Song" (again, the first 8 notes of TTLS). He leaned over after her stellar performance and noted, "Hmmm... 4 more notes than last year, what is that? $100 per note?"

This year I think we have it down to a very respectable ROI, but you be the judge. I proudly present to you in it's entirety, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Variation C.