A New Experience

Today I had my very first facial.

I have always thought it sounded so luxurious to have someone take care of your skin for an hour, and I confess that my complexion is something that I often wish was more... hmm... perfect. So for Christmas Andy got me a gift certificate and today I redeemed it.

Side note:

I've been getting myself

all dolled up for

labor.

I realize that my due date is still

three weeks off,

but it would be a shame to be caught off guard

and go into labor with shaggy hair

or chipped toenail polish.

Actually, that wouldn't be a shame at all

since it would mean Joey was coming

and as I've already said, I'm eagerly waiting

that day...

All that to say, I've had a pampering

couple of weekends: haircut, pedicure,

new hair color and now

a facial!

The experience was slightly different than I anticipated.

It was odd.

But what may have been odd was not that the actual facial was different from my expectations, it was that it was so close to something I think I may have seen in a movie, that it felt totally staged. Like I was part of a comedy show or like there was a surprising plot twist awaiting me as I left the spa.

For starters, the woman who greeted me had a very heavy accent. I couldn't place it, but do you remember the heavy-set woman from The Fifth Element that was supposed to accompany Bruce Willis on his adventure to save the world? She sounded like that.

Actually, I don't think that woman had any lines in the movie, but she sounded exactly like you would think the Major would sound.

At least she sounded like that until she started poking at my face.

Then she started to sound like a gypsy fortune teller.

After getting me comfortably situated on the warmed table and wrapping my hair in a terry cloth turban, all the lights went out. I closed my eyes and I prepared to relax as Marie (the name of my esthetician) began massaging my face. She gently began in circular motions and I thought, "Oh! This is nice."

Then all of a sudden Marie switched into her gypsy voice. My eyes were closed, so I couldn't see her face, but the lights were all off, so I can't imagine how much of my skin she could see. I also couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or to me. Her voice was so soft and low.

"Hmmm... yesssss..." *Imagine a trance-like voice please*

"I feel the bumps." *Flattering, no?*

"I feel the blackheads." *Gah! You can feel blackheads?!*

Silence.

After those mystic-voiced comments the next few minutes proceeded in silence. She took off my make-up and kept smoothing my skin so gently. I started to relax again. She placed warm cotton pads over my eyes and then...

BLAST!

With no warning, the brightest light I have ever had pointed at my face was flipped on and felt like it was mere inches from my forehead.

Marie switched from mystic voice back to Major Fifth Element and said, "Are you ready to begin the extraction?"

"Uh, yep." *I hope that is the right answer!*

It is exactly what you think it is. She started to prod my face and attend to all those bothersome bumps and blackheads. I knew I had a few. But my goodness! People! I lost count.

I probably lost count because I was distracted by the return of the are-you-talking-to-me-or-to-yourself voice that kept making me think of crystal balls and hoop earrings.

"Oh, yes."

"Mmmhhmmm"

"There is more there." Push, pinch. "Ah, yes."

Each mumble was so satisfied. Like it was a true delight to see the little dirt particles make their way out of my dermis. At one point, after a particularly pleased grunt, she pealed the cotton from my eye and held up a mirror so that I could admire her handiwork. Oh dear.

We are teetering on the edge of way too much information, so I will spare you continued details of what apparently came from my face.

After many other pinches and minutes more of her muttering to herself, the lights went back out and she slathered a series of unknown products over my face.

After she had cleaned me up, she several times reminded me that "the redness" would be gone by tomorrow. She mentioned it so many times that I was a little frightened to look in the mirror. I anticipated a lobster-red face and disheveled hair... but instead, I was pleased to discover, that I mostly just looked like I do every morning before putting on my make up.

She advised a clay masque twice a week to maintain her hard work, and I obediently purchased it.

The experience may have been different than I had imagined (or exactly like I imagined - it is hard to tell which) but whatever it was, it has sure made me smile.

Merry Christmas to me!

And come on baby Joey, I'm all fresh faced and newly coiffed, so you can make your appearance ANY TIME!

And really, has anyone had a facial before? Was that normal?

Stocking Lunch

Growing up, one of the most anticipated traditions of Christmas was the stocking. My parents made such an event of the little gift appetizer.

My dad would come up with elaborate ways to hide the stocking. Each Christmas we had a list of rules we had to follow and clues to lead us to the hidden treasure. The whole lead up was thrilling, but the stockings, oh the stockings! My mom was a master of cramming as much good stuff as she could into the foot-shaped sacks.

I think we did the treasure hunt until I was about 22 (my dad does it now for Ellery). When we gave up the hunt, neither Liz or I could quite bear the idea of giving up our mom's amazing stockings.

Side Note:

When Andy and I got married

I think he was REALLY intimidated

by my mom's stocking.

We've had to make new rules for

stockings in our house.

As adoring and clever as Andy is,

I just don't think a boy can

stuff a stocking the same way

a girl, especially a mom, can.

The solution we came to was what we call our Stocking Lunch. We put an afternoon date on the calendar and meet to exchange stockings. My mom makes one for Lizzie and one for me, and Liz and I work together to fill up a stocking for my mom.

To this day we have never achieved as awesome of a presentation as she gives us every year, but we keep trying!

Today was our Stocking Lunch. Oh how I love being with my mom and sister!

Lunch was yummy and our stockings were lavish and we laughed a lot. There is something wonderful about sitting in public, digging through one of the icons of Christmas that is usually reserved for children and surrounding yourself with heaps of festive wrapping paper (my mom wraps each individual item that goes into the stocking).

We all ordered the same thing for lunch so when the check came we asked the waitress to split it an even three ways. It was then that, gasp! I realized that my mom and sister had ordered sodas and I only had water.

Oh the injustice!

Not like it was a big deal at all, but we decided that they would put the tip on their cards and everything would even out. Which it did.

But after all of our stocking jollity I think we were a little rummy. I started babbling on about how I had to leave my tip line blank and I didn't want the waitress to think I was cheap or mean. Then I rambled about leaving a note to explain the arrangement we made at our table:

"Dear Waitress, your service was excellent. I'm sure you noticed I didn't leave a tip, but it is because I didn't order soda and my dining companions did, so my tip is included on their tab. Thanks for the great meal!"

We were all laughing at the ridiculousness of it and then my mom and Liz ganged up on me and kept saying, "Do it!"

And you know what...

I did.

I put an asterisk on the tip line that lead her to the back of the receipt and to my explanation. Regardless of the fact that I feel really silly and totally suckered by my mom and sister, I'm finding solace in the fact that the waitress probably had a really great story to tell when she went home.

That's what I'm about. Making other people's day.

Thanks for another amazing stocking mom!

Reminiscing

Because our home is pretty tiny, Jack's room has doubled as a storage room for quite some time.  We always do our playing out in the living room, and he's not old enough to care that we use his space for storing our overflowing amount of stuff.

But that changed yesterday.

I was seized with a great NEED to clear it out (This has happened before.  I don't know how it collects so much stuff so fast, but I think it might be a lifelong battle).  So all day yesterday I sorted through clothes (his and mine), put a limit on the number of shoes I can own at one time, and created a heaping pile of items to take to the thrift store.  

One of the things that I sifted through yesterday was a box of letters and cards that I have been saving.  Notes that people have written me, valentines, and letters.  There were some from 1993!  I've saved them because at some point in my life, they have been significant. 

While Jack was taking his nap and the cleaning in the actual room was put on hold, I brought out the box of letters and began to sift through them.  

Many, many letters from my mom, dad and Lizzie.  Written while I was a summer camp counselor, living in Colorado with Annie, or away at college. Cards for birthdays, graduations, and our wedding. 

Some from people I don't even remember, some from now-broken friendships, and even one from an old boyfriend.

It is a common misconception

 that I did not date anyone before Andy.

  Mostly because it was kind of a joke. 

Less than two months,

 and mostly because... 

well...

 I don't know really.

  Maybe just because he asked. 

It didn't really make much of an impact on me.

  I remember

an awkward trip to the zoo,

 getting lost on a hike,

 and actually using the phrase,

 "I think it might be better if we were just friends."

 We weren't friends.

I saved the letter for Andy

 to read when he got home from work.

We both had a good laugh

 at the poor grammar and

my only attempt at boy-girl relationships before him.

  The positive outcome

 of that one prior relationship

 is that Andy and I now have a first kiss story

 that makes us laugh every time

we talk about it.

Maybe, if you ask real nice,

I'll tell it to you some time.

I truly am a words person.  I love compliments and I love the way you can make words work for you.  Because of that, it was hard to part with so many things people had taken time to write to me and about me.  

I did saved some, from significant phases in my life.  I kept ones that brought back memories, made me laugh, and reminded me that at some time in my life, I have encouraged and supported friends. 

It was also fun to remind my sister of what a goof she is.

On the envelope of one letter she wrote me: "Rah rah ree! Kick him in the knee!  Rah rah rass!  Kick him in the other knee!"

When I told her about it over the phone she laughed and laughed and said, "I used to say that all the time!" She has now promised that she will revive it.  I don't doubt that she will.

In the spirit of reminiscing, Andy took a stroll down memory lane last night too.  Every time we drive by the Skate Deck on our way to Costco, he tells me stories about how he used to be the most awesome skater and how much he loved it and who he bought roses for... you know, the whole skate deck scene. 

Well last night, our church rented out the whole place for Children's Ministry.  Andy tried to take Ellery to the last one, but it didn't work out.  So this one has been on our calendar for weeks.

We picked Ellery up and she could hardly contain herself.  I tried to warn Andy that she might collapse into tears after her first tumble, but he was optimistic.

!

(Can you even stand Andy's hunky arms!  Oh man!  What a tough guy!)

It turns out that he was right.  She LOVED it.  She skated with Andy.  She skated with me.  She skated with the woman dressed like a giant peep and she even went around by herself!  

She fell.

She got up.

She laughed.

She skated some more.

By the end of the night her face was red and sweaty.  The only tears came when it was time to go.  

We were all impressed with her skills on wheels.  But my favorite part of the evening was when Andy pushed me around the rink (even though it was against the rules).  I felt like such a teeny-bopper.

Prior to pushing me he also did a lap with Jack in his arms (which Jack loved and was also against the rules). After giving me and Jack rides, he cruised around by himself.  Then, the announcer got on the intercom to remind everyone of the rules: "Please remember: no skating with children in your arms, no pushing others on their skates, and no cross... [I don't know what they called it, but it was the fast kind of skating]."  I think they were just reminding Andy.  My oh so good, bad boy. I love it!

His hunky arms, his great attitude and willingness to fudge on the rules for the sake of a good laugh all contribute to my wearing this last night. 

Yes, my husband does indeed ROCK.

The Sweetest Thing

Lately I've really been craving to have my own vegetable garden. 

I'm not sure why, since I have abhorred all my previous experiences weeding and doing any other sort of yard work. And I detest the feeling of having grit under my fingernails and tucked behind my cuticles. 

But nevertheless, I want to grow something.

Ellery has been very interested in growing things lately too.

Since we live in a condo, there is really no plot of earth to claim as my own.  But my mom volunteered a space in her back yard.  

Yesterday, although it was quite chilly, it was clear, so Ellery and I went out to dig up the weeds and pick out the rocks that were in the bed.

The whole thing was pretty much as un-fun as I always imagined gardening, but not quite.  I guess more unproductive than un-fun.  It was more just a big silly show.

Ellery was very excited to help and kept asking me what we were going to put in there and what her job would be.  When we were picking out weeds she asked me why we were taking them out and we had a long talk about why we get rid of weeds.

I made everything up, but it worked for her.

She took to calling the weeds, "The evil guys," and saying, "Take that!" when she pulled them out.  (I told her the weeds stole all the food from the plants that we wanted to grow, so I think that is where the "evil" came from.)

After about 20 minutes I was thwarted.  The wheelbarrow had a flat tire and the place I had been directed to move the dirt was, upon further consideration, deemed unacceptable. 

So, with cold fingers and a disappointed little sister I went inside.

But, never fear!  Dad to the rescue!  

Let it be known, that I might possibly have the most gentle and kind dad ever known to a girl.  

Even though he was feeling a bit under the weather (more than a bit I surmise) he went right out to the patch of weeds and cleared everything away!  Everything!

So now I have freshly cleared plot to plant my carrots and strawberries and herbs.  

Ellery and I are going to have a blast this spring!

While that was sweet, it gets sweeter still!

Now friends, I'm not sure if you are prepared for this...

I wish you could have seen it...

Andy planned to meet us at my parent's house after work and some errands.  After the gardening, Ellery and I were coloring pictures and my mom was playing with Jack.

We heard Andy coming up the porch stairs and all looked up, eager to see him.

Do you know what that boy did?  He walked in with three single stem flowers.  He presented a white carnation to my mom, a pink one to Ellery and a red one for me.  

Ladies, you would not believe the smile on Ellery's face.  She just GLOWED!

She kept saying, "My very own rose!" 

My mom and I put ours in a vase, but Ellery carried hers around for several minutes, periodically smelling it and smiling. 

On the pictures we had been drawing earlier, I had put a pink flower.  Ellery looked at it and said, "and that can be my rose."

So, Ellery has received her first flower from a boy. 

Cheers to the sweet men in my life, Andy and Daddy!  Thanks boys for loving your ladies so well! 

You Should Have Seen It

Yesterday Jack and I visited my mom and the Little Lady Ellery.

She was in fine comic form and I wish I had been able to capture her charming sentiments, but I will have to make do with simple words.  

Just imagine this cute face while you read:

Lately, my goal each time I see Ellery is to get her to let me fix her hair.  I love playing with her soft and unruly locks.  

Halloween was a delight for me because she was a fancy "Blue Ice Fairy" and that required fancy hair.  I had an excuse to pin her curls into a lovely updo.  What fun for a big sister. 

The problem is that she hates it.  

So I have to resort to trickery. 

Last year Andy and I were picking up house needs at, where else, Target.  He spied a pink baseball bat and pink helmet and announced that Ellery should have them.  We presented her with the girly equipment and she was elated.  She likes to play rough with Andy (last Christmas he gave her a kid sized pair of boxing gloves) and to pretend that she's sporty.  The truth is that she is, well, not very coordinated, but that makes it all the more fun for us to play with her.

Is that awful?  

Yesterday she announced that we should play baseball.  I, in true sisterly fashion, told her that all the girls that play baseball have to wear their hair in braids.  I said, "Sure I'll play baseball!  But that means we have to braid your hair first."  Inset wicked laugh here. She immediately found a comb and two rubber bands and I spent several minutes putting her hair in twin french braids.  

Then we proceeded to play baseball.  She first was using her heavy metal bat, which was frightening with her awkward swings and Jack's head relatively near by. We convinced her to use a red umbrella instead.  My mom had to take several swings at the ball with both of us making wild exclamations about how well it worked for her to buy into the idea.  

The game progressed from swinging to hit the ball, to swinging with the intention of twirling.  When it was obvious that she wasn't interested in batting any more I made bases out of paper and told her that I was her coach and she should run the bases.  I explained to her what a "drill" was and she made several laps very eagerly.  

At the end of our practice she announced that it must be time for the team to have their snack and she sat on the couch with her Handisnack cheese and crackers. 

As she was resting and eating, conversation turned toward a cruise that Ellery and my mom are going on this spring.

Suddenly Ellery launched into a wistful reverie about what she expected the vacation to hold. 

"I'll make sand angles. And I'll sit on the beach and just relax."

Relax?  What is so stressful about being FOUR that requires relaxing on the beach?

Her far off look, with her dreamy voice sent me into a fit of giggles.

When I recovered I asked, "What will you eat on the beach?"

"Coconuts."

My mom added pineapple.

I said, "Maybe a mango."

"What's a mango?"

"It is a very yummy fruit."

Dreamy, romantic voice: "Yes.  Sweet, juicy mangos."

Another fit of laughter.

Which of course only encourages Ellery to keep talking and dreaming.

We talked about the cruise some more and enjoyed a little girl's thoughts on bikins and swimming pools and what classes she might take in the cruise line's Kids Club.

But oh, those sweet juicy mangos.

I'll say it again.  I love that girl. 

Oh the Wonder of it All

Here are the highlights of my weekend:

Jack

• Being followed by a crawling baby into every room that I go.
  
• Discovering that Jack snuck into the bathroom, overturned the garbage can, and was exploring the contents with his mouth. 
  
• Listening to the new, constant stream of syllables that come from my baby.  He even is practicing his "ma" sound!
• Bringing Jack into our bed in the morning for family cuddle time.
• Having raspberries blown on my shoulder and cheek as Jack snuggled in our bed in the morning.

Andy

• Went out on Sunday morning and did the grocery shopping.
• Came home from above shopping with a delicious Starbucks beverage, just the way I like it.
• Remembered to buy organic, even the eggnog!  Even though he could care less.
• MADE ME BREAKFAST!!
• AND DID THE DISHES!
• And folded about 8 loads of laundry.
• And fed Jack dinner and dressed him while I got ready for church.
• And declared that he will not watch any more Seahawks games this season because they are so terrible.

OTHER

• Getting a manicure and massage with my mother-in-law.
• Having the best deli sandwich I've had in a long time... turkey, avacado, facon (fake-bacon... you know that non-meat, supposed to be bacon stuff) and grilled red onions.  Yum!  
• Ordering Christmas cards - I'm so on the ball this year!

It was a great weekend.  Now, on to the week!  

Beets

Have you ever eaten a beet?

The last time I was at Trader Joe's I noticed a package of pre-peeled and steamed beets and I remembered that I had read that they're a good root to make into baby food.  So I thought, "Why not?  Jack has been a great eater so far, maybe he'll like these too."  I picked up a pack and brought it home.

Yesterday I was feeling like Jack might like to try something new... but what?  Oh yeah!  We have beets!  Woohoo!  

So I opened the package.  Have you ever even seen a steamed and peeled beet?  It looks a little like someone took a big melon scoop and pulled out a perfect sphere of canned cranberry jelly. Weird.  The color was lovely, but I was skeptical about the taste and texture.  I also realized that there was a very high possibility that Jack's clothes would be permanently stained bright pinky-red.  

It is my general policy to only feed Jack things that I am willing to eat also.  I think that might be why I opt not to buy baby food in a jar.  There is no way I would want to stick a spoonful of that in my mouth!  Anyway, in keeping with my policy I figured that I should at least try this foreign veggie.  

So I did.  

You know that little rabbit face you make when you are trying a little "bite" of something sketchy?  Your face wrinkles up and you kind of make your teeth stick out from your face so that the only thing that touches the new food is your front teeth as they scrape off the tiniest little sliver?  I made that face. 

I had to take two bites because the taste was totally unexpected.  I needed to confirm that it really did taste like... DIRT! Yep. Beets, in my experience, taste EXACTLY like dirt. 

So I did what any good mother would do.  

I mashed up the beet and added a little applesauce, hopping that the sweetness would sort of mask the dirt flavor.  I tried the mixture and discovered that mostly it just tasted like an apple covered in dirt.  

I fed it to him anyway.

I was kind of looking forward to him making a really grossed out face.  Who doesn't like to laugh at a baby when he is trying a new food?! I even had the camera at the ready to capture the moment because I knew it was going to be great.  Just to clarify, I wasn't going to make him eat it all, I was just going to have my laugh and then make him something else.  I'm not THAT mean.

But I was to be sadly disappointed.  

I offered Jack the first bite, barely able to contain my anticipation.  And... 

nothing

NOTHING!

If anything, he really liked it.  He ate a whole bowl of beets and applesauce without so much as a grimace or gag.  *shoulders droop*

The only thing I could think of was that he hasn't had a good fistful of dirt yet, so maybe he just doesn't have the association that it is a yucky taste.  Then I thought, "Great, now my kid is going to think that things that taste like dirt are supposed to be eaten!"  I'm going to have the kid who eats dirt and sand at the playground.  Oh man, what I have done?!

I guess we'll cross that sandbox bridge when we come to it.  But in the present, I still haven't gotten to see Jack make faces at his food.  He happily eats anything I give him.  Don't get me wrong, I am pretty ecstatic to have a perfect baby, but I feel deprived of the yucky face.  

I think today I'll give Jack a pickle.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Muahhh ha ha!!!!

Pumpkin Day with Ellery

First of all, let it be known that Ellery is probably the cutest little girl to ever have lived.  Everything about her is charming.  She is everything good about a little girl!

Oh Ellery, how I love you!  

If you don't know my little sister, here is a picture of her in all her glory:

Last Wednesday I was very excited because Ellery's preschool was taking a trip to the pumpkin patch and Jack and I received invitations to come along.  Imagine my delight!  Not only a trip to the pumpkin patch, but an outing with my sweet Ellery!

So Wednesday arrived and I was up bright and early, dressed and just waiting for the wonderful day to begin.  Then...

uh oh.

The phone rang.

It was my mom.

"Ellery has a fever."

So sad!  Ellery's words were an emphatic and pathetic, "I hate my fever."

My mom offered her the option to still try and go, but Ellery decided to stay home because, in her words, "I don't want any other kids to get my fever."

So after a little chat with my mom, I decided to go pick up some pumpkins at the grocery store and bring them over for my wee sis to either paint or carve.  

I went to Top Foods and picked out some various sizes of the orange gourd and made my way to my mom's house.  

When I arrived Ellery was still in her nightgown.  I unloaded my bag of pumpkins and displayed them for her to choose which she wanted to decorate.  I made sure to tell her that Jack picked out several of them because he thought she would like them.  She always asks me to interpret Jack's coos and noises.  "What's he say?"  

I told Ellery she could choose between carving the pumpkins or painting them.  I secretly hoped that she would want to carve them, but she opted for the painting. So we got out all my mom's paint, covered the table with newspaper, and set up our project.  

She listed out all the colors that she wanted to use.  It started with pink, yellow and purple, but eventually she declared, "I love all colors!" and asked for a little bit of each color to put on her pumpkin.  

The first one she painted had a pink smiley face and then a multicolored "dress."  Her second pumpkin was bigger and was decorated with colored sections then covered in glitter.  

Her third pumpkin was sort of a game.  She would put one color on and then pick another color to add.  She would ask me what color it was going to make when she mixed them.  She asked me what it was going to make when she added white and black.  I told her grey.  "It does make grey!  You are always right!"  Let me tell you, it is a good feeling to have your little sister think you are always right.  

Her fourth pumpkin was actually one that I covered in purple glitter.  She loved it and asked to keep it.  How can you turn her down?  (I ended up making a second one for my house.  When Lizzie saw it she yelled so loud in her excitement that she made Jack cry) The photo doesn't do it justice, so just imagine a little pumpkin painted purple and then completely covered in the most sparkly, ultra fine purple glitter you can buy.  That will give you an idea of what it looks like. 

Ellery's pumpkins.  The white one is the "game" pumpkin and the little orange one is the "girl wearing a dress."

My Pumpkins

At one point I was emptying her water cup and washing off her brushes so she could use a new color and Ellery said to my mom, "Emily is so helpful!"

After cleaning up our mess I think she remembered that she was sick and curled up in a pitiful little ball on the couch.  

Jack ended up taking a nap and I told my mom she could go nap too.  So my pumpkin day with Ellery ended with both of us on the couch watching The Lion King.  We watched until the part that Mufassa dies which was too sad for her. Oh my sweet sister. It was a great day!