Jenny On the Spot: Caffeinated mom, lover of dancing, glitter and glitter.

My Lucy.

This is not her birthday letter. I still have one more week before my baby turns 5 *gripping chest*.

As hard as it has been to to been the mother of  a baby, toddler and/or a preschooler over the past (nearly) 11 years… I am waving a reluctant goodbye. Lucy was born when Joel was 5 and Olivia was 2 (almost 3)…

The pregnancy of my sweet and spicy Lucy came as a great surprise. And as I sit here thinking back to the morning I peed on that damn stick… I can’t believe the twists and turns life has taken our family… all because of this one little girl.

And here I sit. With one week left of “4″. I am done having babies. I am sure I am fine with that… yet I feel pangs of sadness as I slowly wave goodbye to my identity as a mother of a preschooler. What day will be the last day I will carry her on my hip? When I set her down… will I know that was our last?

Can you hear me sobbing?
Continue reading ‘My Baby is Growing Up! Make Her Stop!’

Either I need to expose my kids to more things, or I need to continue harboring them from certifiable Awesome. I think I am going try to keep them from society as much as possible because, right now… they think I am THE SHIZZLE! I love this about me them.

For example, I was cutting a tag off a scarf. My Olivia (7) ooozed: Mom. You are SO creative!!!

Me: Why?

Olivia: Because you do things like cut off tags and stuff.

Joel (10): Yeah. You ARE creative, mom.

Me: Oh, and remember, you have also said I am really good at stirring. (my girls are so envious of my stirring skillz)

Olivia: Yeah. You are REALLY good at stirring.

I decided to let the kids have some of their own ego-build-time. I’m a giver. I asked, “How are you guys creative? I mean I know how you are creative, but in what ways do you think YOU are creative?”

Olivia (7): I can knit. You can’t knit. I can teach you!

Joel (10): Video games and technology. I helped my teacher with the computer yesterday. She wanted to put words on a picture… but it didn’t work.

Lucy (4): I am good at Lego building! I can build stairs and houses and people…

Dang it. I hate competition. I figure I won’t teach them how to stir. Then I will at least have something.

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I decided to give up giving up.

What?

Aaanywho.

I took the kids to the grocery store with me because I love taking my kids into public spaces. Let’s face it, I am a self-punisher. It builds character, and MAN, have I earned my fair share of character in these 10+ years of mothering.

Fortunately, during this particular outing, no character-building happened.

However, it was Fat Tuesday… and all of my fun pallies that work over there at the Central Market were wearing Mardi Gras bead on account of the fact that it was Fat Tuesday.

Being the “with it” kind of gal that I am, I asked my girl Debbie, “Why the beads, yo I love the bling!?” She was all, “FAT TUESDAY” … yadda, yadda, yadda …Mardi Gras!

“I knew that.”

As we walked away, the questions came a-firin’ from the kids squad: “What’s Fat Tuesday? What’s Mardi Gras?”

I said something about Lent.

“What’s Lent?”

BAH! What’s with the inquisition?

I held them off until we got into the car. The public did need to hear my stammering. I mean I KNOW what those things are, but knowing and explaining are two very different beasts.

Ya know? Please don’t make me explain, m’kay? Thankyouverymuch.

I was able to boil down to: on Fat Tuesday people get to indulge (then I had to explain THAT word – jeese!) the day before giving up something you love for 40 days.

Then I went straight into telling them their chores for the day.

What did I get back?

Joel (10): Can we work really hard all day today? Then we can give up working for Lent!

Mom (noneofyourbusiness): You have to give up something you LOVE, dude.

From the back seat, I heard the sweet 7 year-old voice of my daughter…

I love work.

Stinkers.

I am sooooo out-numbered.

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The morning started early as my 7 year old climbed into bed, claiming she couldn’t sleep. I asked if she felt sick, she said, “No.” Heh. Read on….

Then my 4 year old, as she does most mornings.. popped-up her little head from the side of my bed and asked, “Can I snuggle you, Mama?” I can’t say no to that. She’s only 4 for another month. She is my youngest, so this is the last month of my life I get to snuggle a four-year-old in bed. Snuggle away, princess!

Soon after Joel – my 10 year old climbed up on the end of the bed and announced, “HERE MOM AND DAD! I have a card for you!”

He gave us a Valentine card from his heart – he drew a battle scene from Halo.

This is not a battle scene from Halo. It’s me in my Valentine colors. No one got to see my festivus-ness… read on…

Here is a picture of the flowers my husband gave me:

I LOVE tulips!

Here’s a picture of our “puppy” Kevin… wondering where his Valentine bone is:

Not unlike my 4 year-old, Kevin pops his head up at the side of my bed and wants to snuggle. Uh, not so much. He thinks he’s human. He loves to hold “hands”. Not kidding.

Here’s a picture of the chocolate chip Valentine pancakes I made with luuuurve:

Here is not a picture of the vomit poor Livi puked onto the side of the road and floor of the mini-van on our way to church Valentine’s Day morning:

[picture of puke unavailable due to not a taking picture of said puke *gag*]

*Digression! Could you please scroll back up to the first picture? Of me. No one got to see my cute, pink, Valtenitne-y colored top and sparkly heart necklace! Livi’s puke-itude happened about a half mile from church. I even had on make-up AND curled my hair. But due to the power of the interwebz… my efforts were not wasted.

Back to business….

Olivia’s tummy ache was short lived, because by the evening she was ready for sundaes. You’d never know she still had a fever in this picture. Sundaes make everything better, and here is a picture of the kids making their Valentine sundaes:

As usual, Valentine’s Day was a bit like everyday in the Ingram household… a little adventure. Maybe Forest Gumps said it best, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” If there was money in those words, we’d all be rich. And looking back on the day… I think I am.

If Valetines-ness ain’t your thing (or even if it is)… would you mind clicking on over to my reveiw blog to read about how Electrolux and Kelly Ripa are working together to help raise money for the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund. I post pictures of CAKES!!!

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I had a GREAT convo in the car with my kids recently.

The boiled down version —> I am a skinny, fast runner.

My kids are smart.

We were talking about Martin Luther King Jr. Joel was pretty sure MLK would have been president, had he not been killed and all.

His words.

Aaanywho.

We talked about the fact there is a difference between BEING president and RUNNING for president, which hit a chord with my 7 year old (Olivia),

“MOM. YOU could run for president!”

I spewed all the coffee in my mouth onto the windshield.

“Ya think? Why do you think that?!”

Olivia, “Because you are a FAST runner!”

Then my son said, “Yeah! And you know what else? People really like seeing skinny presidents up there…”

Up where?

I digress…

Joel continued, “And you’re skinny! People would LOVE to see you up there!”

Up where?

Oh, Capitol Hill, baby.

I squealed (in. all. caps, I am sure of it)… “YOUTHINKIAMSKINNYYYYYY?!”

HE WAS ALL, “YEAH!”

*I suppose I can unlock the caps lock, ehh?*

So, it’s not that he thinks I’m smart. SO. It’s WAY easier to be smart than skinny! *been there done that, yo*

Did you know the word “unlock” is only one keystroke from making the word “unlick”?

Aaaanywho.

Kinda almost erases the memory of the other time we were in the car and Olivia (then 5) asked, “Mom? Why are your arms so jiggly?” Or the time she said my jeans made my legs look big. I encourage her honesty tho. We girls need to stick together. I know if I ask, “Do these jeans make my butt look big, her reply may very very well be, “NO. Your BUTT makes your butt look big.” We girls gotta be real, yo..

That’s right…. “Go Girl!”

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After an hour of, “GO TO SLEEP. GET IN YOUR BED. QUIT PLAYING. GETINBED. QUIT. BED. QUIT. SLEEP. SILENCE!!!!”

It did grow quiet. I have written before about the fact that silence is not, in fact…. golden.

You see it was silent not because Lucy had fallen asleep. N-to-the-O-T.

Instead, she was quietly making herself pretty. She is VERY MUCH into making herself pretty. And for a four year old girl, color is pretty… no matter the source. In this case… it was marker as lipstick. And apparently a bit of “rouge” for her forehead:

She came downstairs… she said she was “Firsty.” I with my laptop and my husband with his… all snuggled into our onlinez. Both Paul and I groaned and each half-barked… “Lucy! You NEED to go to bed!”

And then we saw her pretty red lips.

Paul said, “My. You sure look pretty. Is that Mommy’s lipstick?”

Lucy said, “It’s not yipstick Daddy, it’s just marker.”

Just marker.

Being the stellar parent that I am… I busted-up laughing. Being the even stellarer parent that he is, my husband said, “Lucy. I need to take a picture.”

Good move daddy… I took a picture back in July when I discovered her sitting on the counter… after a play date with actual lipstick.

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I had to head out to a meeting this afternoon. I wanted my outfit to say something like, “I can hack it.” or “I can bring it”… or maybe “Professional laday is in da hizzouse!!!”

*ahem*

Before the meeting, I picked up my son from school. As we walked to the car he asked, “Why are you dressed up?”

I was all, “On account of the fact I going to a meet-in’… and want to look all professional, yo. Cutty. Do ya think I look professional?”

My son smiled, giggled and said, “Yeah. Or you look like a Jonas brother.”

I said, “So, you think I’m hawt…” No, really. I said that. I’m always fishin’ for a compliment. I don’t discriminate. I didn’t get the answer I was fishin’ for, tho. My question grossed him out. On 2 levels. He said, “MOM! I’m a boy and your my MOM!”

Whatever.

And here it is… my formerly “professional” outfit (albeit a *little* funk-ish/subduedrocker-ish/canIgotothedancecubnow-ish because that’s how I roll)… that I will hithertofore be referred to as my Jonas brother outfit:

I think my kid was wrong. I kinda think I look more like Zac Efron hanging out with the Jonas brothers… I’m hawter than I thought…

Actually, my son looks like Zac Efron… Oh dear…

Aaaand on further inspection… I suppose I COULD pass for one of the Jonas Brothers, but curvier and better hair…

…aaaaand maybe I look more confused, but less angry. I think we are all wearing black nail polish though… I have said before that I think I kinda dress like a teenage boy. But I was mostly joking. I didn’t realize I was actually spot-on. That’s right. That’s me Jenny Spot ON Jenny On The Spot…

*Just a few days left to enter for a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card courtesy Tom’s of M via my review blog – Click here for details!*

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The Husband… his eyes burning with condemnation… as he stared at me through the innocent stair rails… He said, and I DO believe he seethed these words in ALL CAPS:

AND YOU KNOW THIS ALLLLLLLL HAPPENS BECAUSE YOU BLOG.

Whu? Who? Me???

Here’s what happened. It was a long weekend. A full weekend. A long a full weekend. To the tune of 3 children in 5 plays (the same one, but 5 shows), one gymnastics show, 4 or 5 meals out, one Jingle Bell Run

I made the local news for that… but they edited out my best line. You know the one…

Wait for it…

MADE OUT OF AWESOME.

Edited. Out. That was NOT made out of awesome.

I digress…

My friend Patti took pictures… Here’s me and something about spirits before the run:

Here’s a picture of me after the run… all bleary eyed, and missing one cute red ribbon from my hair…

Andalsosomuch, though the color of my skin might suggest otherwise… I do not have a case of the jaundiced. That was just bad lighting. I’m serious.

Oh yeah… with narry a 15 minutes to spare at any point on Sunday… we all made it home around 9 p.m. with my sis, bro, and mama -in-law and nephew… so we could celebrate our Christmas together. We are just way to busy for each other to make it happen ON Christmas, ya know? Aaaanywho…

9 p.m. on Sunday night…

Once the paninis were grilled and coffee drank and banana cream pie consumed… the kids opened presents and then ate their caramel apples…

And in the blink of an eye (a couple-a hours) … the in-laws drove away so as not to miss the next ferry and the children headed up to brush their teeth and the dog peed on my bedroom floor and my husband cleaned it up and I put a towel on the wet spot and I headed downstairs to curse our fool dog out of the children’s ear-range and then the 4 year old peed on the towel that covered the cleaned-up dog pee mess.

ON. THE. TOWEL.

True story.

It was at that point my husband looked at me between my fair stair railings and said,

AND YOU KNOW THIS ALLLLLLLL HAPPENS BECAUSE YOOOOOU BLOG.

Crack smoker.

The nerve. And I totally know what he means.

Mah bloggahs… I KNOW y’alls know what he means.

And then this morning I was all “You wanna know what ELSE happens because I blog? Wanna know, huh, huh??? I just won AWESOME ITSELF for doing a meme *neenerneener crack smoker*. My post Wishy, Wishy won the random draw at the Todays Mama’s Holiday Wishlist Giveaway. All kidding aside… this news made me cry great-big happy tears. That bike. Be still. My. Heart.

And also BECAUSE I BLOG…. YOU, my friends have a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card! My kids tried out the new Tom’s of Maine Silly Strawberry toothpaste…. we even made a video! But you’ll need to head over there to enter for your chance! Good luck!

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My 7 year old daughter is a creative-type. She often asks to use my phone to take pictures. Or my Flip to take video. One day, Olivia wanted to take pictures of me. I was all, “Becuase you think I’m beautiful?” She was all, “Noooooo!” And I was all, “Eh?” And she was all…

Aaaaanywho…

Here is our photo shoot. It was the most enjoyable photo shoot I’ve been on since my trip to Milan with Vogue last spring.

Olivia wanted me to look natural, yet gorgeous. I was all, “TOTALLY, how about this…” *snap*

Continue reading ‘Just Goofin’-off On A Coffee Date With My Daughter’

And it’s not just because I don’t like the wrinkles that come with aging, or the new aches, or the awareness that gravity… is not a friend.

I want to be four again because I long for the heart.

I want to wear crumbs on my face and not care.

Not because I am lazy. And not because I think a crumby face is a good look.

But because how silly is it to worry about whether one’s face is a little crumby?

When one is four… no one cares about crumbs.

Or bare feet.

Or lipstick that went a bit over the edge:

Ya know?

Last week, Lucy… my 4 year old whistled for the first time.

The first time. This little person got to experience a whistle coming from her wee little frame FORTHEFIRSTTIME.

She said, “Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! I whistled!!!”

I was all, “Yeah, yeah… whistle schmistle.”

I may have played up my excitement for her a little more than that, but my heart held just about that much excitement. She’s kid #3… we’ve had a couple other first whistles… plus I’m 37 people. Whistlin’ is no big, ya know? People. The great majority of us have arms, legs, belly buttons and can whistle. See? Big whoop.

*wet blanket*

A short time later I heard Lucy giggling so sweetly in her booster seat. It was a certain content little giggle. A giggle that perhaps could even turn Darth Vader away from the Dark Side. Oh, that little girl giggle…

I HAD to ask, “Lucy. Honey. What on earth are you gigglin’ about?”

With her mouth in as full a smile as it could stretch she squeaked out, “MAAAAAMAAAAAA! I whistled for the FIRST!!! TIME!!!”

And I cried. My girl. MY girl. My little girl…

*****

Do you ever wish you could feel the joy of whistling for the first time? Do you ever just think about how much it sucks that our first whistle has been spent?

I long for the innocence. I long for the untainted joy. A time when whistling was a big deal… I don’t want to suppress the innate urge to squeal with delight over a “boooifull” butterfly… I want *that* back.

Freedom?

But not to live how I want. Not to do what I got to do fah me. No. I’m talking about freedom in experiencing joy…

Expressing joy. Sharing joy. Joy.

I also want somebody to do my shopping, cooking and laundry. Maybe that’s what this is actually all about.

Maybe.

P.S. Today is your last day to enter for your chance to win a $100 Visa gift card and a year’s worth of Wonder Bread over at Jenny on the Spot Reviews!

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