12/12/12 Commemorated! For, Like, The Next 15 Years...

So, it was about noon today, 12:00pm on 12/12/12, that I remembered - TODAY IS AN EPICALLY AWESOME and once-in-a-lifetime date!  I HAD to do something!!

I immediately called Mark at work to let him know of this critical emergency situation, and as I was talking to him and Googling "cool stuff to do on 12/12/12" I realized that at the KEY TIME on this date - 12:12 on 12/12/12 - we were talking about what to DO on 12/12/12.  Drat!  But we still had time to do SOMETHING even if we missed the magic hour and minute....

Buy 12 things for each kid?  Too expensive.  And darnit, our kids are already so spoiled that we've instituted a "no-screen" and 4-present limit this Christmas (and only one of those four is a "fun" present - yes, we're very scroogey parents this year, determined to reform our whiny whitebread suburban kids).

Give the kids each 12 bucks and take 'em on a shopping spree at the Dollar Store?  Possibly, but it'd just be buying cheapo lame-o toys that'd be broken and thrown away on 12/13/12.

Bake them 12 cookies each?  Ummmm, heck no.  Terrible idea. Too much sugar in late afternoon.  I know some charitable-minded people were baking 3 sets of a dozen cookies to give away to 3 families, but let's be real - 3 dozen cookies ain't leavin' my house (or hips) alive.

WHAT TO DO !  WHAT TO DO!!   Eeeeeeeeek....

And then I had a flash of inspiration!  Wouldn't it be fabulous to get a new pet and then name it Twelve?  YES! And then we'd have a long-term, commemorative reminder of 12/12/12 instead of just a one-day thing.  Brilliant, I yam!

Mark then (very lamely) suggested 12 new fish.  But every time we get new fish they get eaten by Hoover (a gigantic black so-ugly-he's-not-even-remotely-cute pleckosomething...) .  Which Mark knows.  Which is why he suggested that.  How rotten is that!

My entire life I've had little raggedy white hairy dogs.  My beloved Bichon, Casey, who we had for 15 years, passed away about 3 years ago and I've missed Casey himself of course, but also missed just having a little white hairy dog in my life.

My Caseylein

From time to time I scour Craigslist or the SPCA website or Bichon Rescue groups to see if there's a little Bichon that needs a home.  I'm totally against buying pets because there are just too many mixed breeds (that are WONDERFUL) that need homes.  Anyway, another little raggedy white hairy dog just never showed up.  Sadness continued to haunt my footsteps...

Okay, but seriously, I would send Mark photos of cute little white dogs from time to time, or put them on his desk, and every time I'd see one on the street I'd shriek and beg him to steal it from the owner for me. (I won't buy a purebred but I have no qualms about stealing one.)

While I was Googling hairy white dogs as fast as I could, Mark spotted a little teeny ad for a little teeny Maltese Bichon puppy!  The owner texted me this photo (an Amish couple that texts - who knew?), and look at the photo title - 12/12/12/14:12!  Coolness! 

After that photo, I was hurrying out of my pajamas, Mark was leaving work early, we were picking up kids early from school, throwing together towels and leashes and collars and driving an hour out to Waterloo to pick up MY NEW PRECIOUS!  I know, I know, I was supposed to do something for 12/12/12 for my kid gang, but hey, they were happy to get to play their DSs mid-week (DS videogame time is typically only on Friday nights) and eat potato chips on the drive, and that was commemoration enough for them.

So, introducing...... Wolfgang Ritchie!  Wolfie for short.  Derived from the German word for twelve which is "zwölf."  Yeah yeah, it's a stretch, but it works!  And I know that when you read above that I was going to name a pet Twelve, you thought that was dumb, right?!?  And it kinda was.  Wolfgang is much cooler.

Wolfie looks like a mini-Casey, grubby mouth and all.

And technically, we did have a "pet opening."  A few months ago, we had to put Chili (another 15-year pet for us) to sleep.  Sadly, Chili was old and ornery and never did like Tiki, our 2-year old lonely lab.

Chili.  Ornery but awesomely so.  Animals with attitudes are the BEST!

So of course, Tiki is OVERJOYED.  She believes that Wolfie is HER Precious. 

Finally, here's the sun setting on 12/12/12 with me and my little Wolfgang Wolfie Zwolfie.  12/12/12 commemorated in the nick of time!  Whew! 

A Christmas Tale That Tells Itself

This blog entry will be my least-wordy ever.   (HEY! I don't want to hear you clapping or cheering!!)

All you need to know is:

1)  I caved and bought an Elf on the Shelf (click here for blog post documenting that)

2) We named our elf Reaper.  (Yes, that was MY idea.  Teehee.  And because the kids seconded my nomination for this name, I'm pretty sure they don't know the meaning behind it.  Teehee.)

Now just view the photos and watch the story unfold...

Noah is absolutely terrified of Reaper.  Which means, IT'S WORKING!!!!!!  WOOHOO!!!!!

Spending Money Wisely

Spending money for a nice lunch out is always a wise choice!  UNLESS you spend it on Mexican food in New York.  Then it's always a surefire waste of money.  And yet I keep doing it, stupidly thinking that SOMEDAY it will get better.  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice .....or 10 billion times, well what can I say?  I'm an idiot, but still a hopeful idiot.  Ay yi yi.

Anyway, here we are at lunch at bland & mediocre Cantina Laredo, sans Noah and Connor, who were stuck at school.  Yesssss!  We like to sneak away for lunch without 'em because it's a) cheaper (especially since Connor now thinks he's too manly to order from kids menus), b) MUCH quieter and MORE peaceful and c) we can sit in a booth.

To maintain this peace & quiet, I bribed Shelby with the promise of a Snickers bar to sit next to Daddy and play Tic Tac Toe with him.

They had a good time, and so did I, NOT having to play Tic Tac Toe with Shelby who CHEATS shamelessly.

After lunch, we decided to walk around a little, and then Shelby spotted Santa Claus.  ERG!  Now, we have never ever had our kids photographed with Santa.  I just think it's weird and creepy and we don't really even focus on Santa at Christmas.  I mean, my parents never took ME to get photographed sitting on Santa's lap, and look how I turned out?  I'm a glorious, productive member of society, right?!?  Though, you would think with my penchant for terrorizing my kids, I would LIKE this sitting-on-Santa practice......hmmmm....

And besides!, Connor never bought into the whole Santa thing and he's continually told Noah since Noah's birth that Santa was a fake.  As a matter of fact, a few weeks ago I found Noah crying in his bed, and I soon found out that EVIL BIG BROTHER Connor informed his sweet trusting little brother by way of a lovely, charming little bedtime story (NOT!) that there wasn't going to BE a Christmas this year because of the Mayan end of the world prediction for December 21.  Uggh!  CONNOR!

Anyway, Santa sorta slipped off our radar over the years, but Shelby still recognized him and immediately began shrieking, never having before seen Santa IN REAL LIFE.    So, we ventured over and I was thinking "Awwww, maybe we should finally do it, this whole creepy Santa's lap thing" and then I saw that they wanted $30 FOR THE STARTER PHOTO PACKAGE!  That's even more than they charge at theme parks for those photos of you at your horrible screaming best, and at least those document a (presumably) GOOD memory!

$30!!!!  For a creepy photo!  AY YI FREAKIN' YI.  That would NOT be money spent wisely.

Here's Mark dragging Shelby away from Santa.  She didn't take the turn of events well.

Mark then got the bright idea to go up to the second level where Shelby could look down and get a better look at Santa but without having to be assaulted by Santa's super-pushy sales squad.  And I cheerfully told her, "Shelby!  We can still take your photo with Santa!  Stand still!"

I doctored up that lovely, high-quality cell phone photo with a corny holiday frame and viola!  Pretty much the same thing for free!  *pats thrifty self on back*

Shelby refused to lose sight of Santa, constantly yelling down to him despite the fact that he only had attention for the PAYING customers.  She refused to leave and kept hiding behind this enormous plant-tree-thing.

We finally got her out of the mall and the waterworks stopped when I reminded her of the Snickers bar waiting in the car for her.  Now THAT was $2 wisely spent!

And since I didn't waste $30 on a disturbing Santa picture, I decided to make what I'm sure will turn out to be a VERY wise investment with that $30- an Elf on the Shelf!  I am NOT above using scare tactics (like a creepy plastic elf) to get my kids to start behaving better and parents SWEAR that this thing really works!  After some internet research, I found zillions of clever ideas to introduce Elf on the Shelf to your family, including elaborate family parties and red carpet events.  Pffffft.  I decided to go for the simpler, more direct route, you know, to let my kids know that this was SERIOUS. 

Here's a closeup of my investment.  This little scene will be their introduction to Elf on the Shelf tomorrow morning.  Merry Christmas, gang.  *heh heh heh*  Let the games begin...

Cat Behavior...Unexplained

So, our beloved little Fluffernutter (introduced to you in this post: http://markandestelle.blogspot.com/2012/07/another-summer-surprise-wednesday.html) is almost now a full-sized, grownup, mature cat.

In size, anyway.

In every other way, she's at that obnoxious I mean CUTE and ADORABLE post-kitten phase of getting into EVERYTHING.  And Fluffer's preferred choice of toy?

Tampons.



No matter where I hide them in my bathroom or closet she digs them back out.

It's interesting how quickly you get used to stuff being around that really shouldn't be around when you see it everyday.  Tampons, both opened and unopened, strewn around the floor everywhere?  Yep, that's pretty normal for these parts...

But at least the kids have finally stopped asking what exactly tampons are.  So it's all good.  Until we have company...

And in other unusual cat entertainment news,  Fluffernutter loves to watch me play Ticket to Ride.

But she doesn't watch The Walking Dead anymore since Shane turned into a zombie and they offed him.  I was upset about that, too.

McDonalds, always a hit for pets and kids (and look at Shelby's cute sparkly toes in the corner!)...

Fluffer has made friends (playthings) with everyone in the house (whether they liked it or not).

Meatball is on the side of "or not" in the friends department, but Troublenutter I mean Fluffernutter is very persistent.  I love Meatball's aggravated face here...

...and his resigned face here.

Meatball, it could be worse.  YOU could have to take your pets to the vet and always have to confirm, "YES his name is really Meatball" and "YES her name is Fluffernutter" and endure the looks and the snickering.

Yes (as if there were any doubt), I AM a crazy cat lady, because few things make me happier than a sight like this.  Although a 4-tiered kitty tower with FOUR cats on it would be even better (ooo did you just hear Mark scream?  Bet ya heard him in Vegas, Tawny!).  Sign me up for the next crazy cat lady pride parade!

And seriously, who DOESN'T want to come back as a pampered housecat like Finneaus in their next life???  Does she make it look good or WHAT?

OUR Traditional (but very un-traditional) Thanksgiving Tradition

Happy Thanksgiving 2012!

As has been the case for several years now, Mark is either just returning from an Africa trip right before Thanksgiving or just leaving for an Africa trip the day after Thanksgiving.

From this drunken-look photo, it's pretty obvious that Mark had just returned from a 3-week Africa trip and was suffering through jetlag.  AND, based on the lack of decorations or nice place settings, it's also even MORE obvious that Mark had just returned, and that I was too blimey exhausted to do anything special.  I feel compelled (meaning, my mom called me and chewed me out) to mention, however, that my mom was here for a long visit while Mark was gone and helped me out *immensely*. THANK YOU, MOM. So, truth be told, basically, I didn't do anything special for Thanksgiving because I'm basically a lazy schmuck.

Anyway, this travel schedule always means that I want as low-key a Thanksgiving holiday as possible - to either rest up & prepare for an upcoming long stretch of single parenthood, or to recover from a grueling long stretch of single parenthood that I just survived.  This typically means NO trips and usually NO company.   Oh, and again as evidenced by the photo, pajamas all day are a must - so NO clothes, either.  And I know it might be kinda rude and I absolutely don't mean to be, but I also typically turn down any invitations we receive to go to someone else's house - I just can't deal with clothes and belts and makeup and hoopla on Thanksgiving.  We're basically tired and smelly grubs in elastic pajama pants on Thanksgiving and you wouldn't want us over anyway, I promise.

Another Thanksgiving "issue" is that I don't particularly like ANY traditional Thanksgiving food (don't like turkey, don't like cranberries, don't like stuffing, don't like pie, and especially don't like sweet potatoes), so OUR particular traditional Thanksgiving consists of making everyone's favorite foods and then sharing the yummy smorgasboard.  It doesn't vary much from year to year, though I was surprised that Spongebob macaroni & cheese was NOT invited to our Thanksgiving this year - that's been on either Noah's or Shelby's menu wishlist for years.  Anyway, here's the lineup:

• Mark's most-thankful for foods:  Barbeque ribs
• My most-thankful for foods:  Diet Coke & Angie Bailey's special sauce wings (I believe this is 4 or 5 years in a row now for these??  They also make appearances for every Mothers Day and every birthday.)
• Connor's most-thankful for foods:  Pasta and ribs and pumpkin pie
• Noah's most-thankful for foods:  Fruit salad and french fries
• Shelby's most-thankful for foods:  Blueberry pancakes and french fries

~*~*~*~

We started a new tradition this year, instead of writing in our family's gratitude journal, that we'd write on gratitude leaves - thank you, Pinterest (your recipes basically suck but this crafty idea was a hit...sort of).   Anyway, some notable items for which we, the Ritchie family, were thankful:

• Sumo wrestlers
• James Bond
• Tylenol
• Mustaches
• And Diet Coke may have shown up more than once.  Or twice.  Or a dozen.  (Don't forget, Mark was gone for the entire Gratitude Wreath project and Diet Coke is seriously all that gets me through single parenthood).  

This SEEMED like a good idea....until the kids started to fight over who got what color leaf, who got to write, who got to pin, who got to write "Grandma" for the day, what COLOR pin for their leaf.... seriously.  I wanted to stick the pins in my eyes and ears and will be OH-SO-THANKFUL when I can document this lovely craft for our eternal family memories (hmmmfpph!) ...and then THROW IT OUT.  Don't count on it making it into our Thanksgiving traditions next year, folks.

I mentioned that we share our favorite foods, but I'm very thankful no one in my family likes spicy foods, so I get to enjoy ALL those yummy wings ALL by myself and don't have to share.  And Mark and I  have 4 weeks of Walking Dead episodes to catch up on now that he's home, and nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like a TV zombie apocalypse marathon, right?  So, Happy Thanksgiving to me after all.  :)

Haunted Hayride Revelations

(Could alternatively be titled, "How Family Memories Are Made.")

(Hmmmm, could also alternatively be titled, "Turns Out Mommy Won't Fight Zombies For You, Instead She Will Sacrifice You to the Zombies To Save Herself.")

It was a time of terror.  For them.  And me.  And a time of tears.  For me.  And them.


Revelation Number 1.  We need to toughen Noah up.

Here we are on the way to our long-awaited and much-looked-forward-to family outing to Hilltop Ranch's Haunted Hayride & Maze.  It was all fun and excitement driving there, singing along to Ghostbusters and Monster Mash.  That is, until Thriller came on and ended with its maniacal cackling evil laugh and I announced, "And with that, we're HERE!  Ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!!!!!"  As you can see from the photo below, Noah went downhill quickly after that.  Shelby, of course, was nonplussed.  For the moment, anyway.  *insert Thriller evil cackling laugh here*

And I suppose me Googling photos of horror movie characters on my iPhone to show the kids beforehand on the ride over probably didn't qualify me for any Mom-of-the Year awards.  But HEY, they asked!!!!  And did you know they made a Freddy vs. Jason movie?  I didn't.  Huh.


Anyway.  Revelation Number 2.  But Noah is seriously the cutest-while-terrified little boy ever.

The Beginning of Revelation Number 3.  Noah may be growing out of his Mommy's Boy stage.

I kept reassuring Noah I'd hold his hand and not let go and would protect him no matter what.  This did NOT reassure him (as you can see from his face in this photo).  Whaaaaaa??????

Revelation Number 4.  My third camera in 2 years blows chunks. 

Nice family photo, eh?  I thought the numskull I asked to take it for us spit on the lens or something.  Until I saw all the photos before and after that, that *I*, the master of photography (ha!) took.  Stupid blurry chunk-blowing camera.

The Finalization of Revelation Number 3.  Noah prefers a friend to his Mommy for comfort and reassurance.

Ungrateful punk Noah decided that Lucas, the little 6 year old on the ride who he met 2 nanoseconds ago, was now his best friend and he wanted to sit by him, NOT by his Mommy!  Noah ditched his Mommy who loves him and would protect him and fight off zombies for him!!  (In the face of mortal danger, this turned out not to be true, but more on that later….)  Anyway, cue the Mommy tears.  Noah doesn't need me anymore…..  *sniff sniff*

Revelation Number 5.  The bad news is, I am not a good Mommy under duress.  The good news is, but I have an excellent sense of SELF-preservation. 

After the first creature jumped out and scared Shelby and I (we were together at this point and holding hands - remember, Noah ditched me), I immediately spun around screaming and literally twirled Shelby through the air, landing her SMACK in FRONT of me, meaning IN BETWEEN me and the creature, like I was offering her up as the sacrifice to save my own petrified self.  What kind of mother DOES that as her first reactionary instinct??!?!?!?

So, for the rest of the haunted walk Shelby blubbered (I really can't blame her) and Mark had to carry her the whole way through.  Bad Mommy was now shunned and was walking at the back of our family pack.

Revelation Number 6.  Connor knows bad stuff and bad words.  Oh, and maybe don't scare the crap out of your autistic kid even if he's begging for it.

Connor knows the names of all the horror movie characters and what they look like.  I have NO idea how!  I know I showed them photos beforehand, but like I said, he and Noah already KNEW who all those characters were!  We don't watch those movies.  I mean, Mark is a bigger horror movie wimp than Noah (for whom Diary of a Wimpy Kid was a horror movie)!! 

Connor attempted to put on a brave front, complaining how dumb this was, yadda yadda yadda, and then he tried to sneak off into the haunted maze portion by himself.  Well, I actually saw him leave, but by this time Connor was being so annoying that I pretended I didn't see him leave and was happily letting him go.  Is that bad??  Anyway, Haunted Hilltop staff guy got mad and made Connor come back. 

Now finally having permission from cranky Haunted Hilltop staff guy to be in the maze, here's macho Connor, sternly interacting with the Saw creature, with his hands on his hips, probably telling it how lame it was.  The creature, shamed at being unable to scare, slunk back into the forest.

Unfortunately, I do NOT have photos of when it all changed for Connor (I had to manufacture one).  After his previous victorious encounter with Saw creature, Connor was emboldened and actually went INTO the forest to taunt the next hiding creature.

However, Connor picked the WRONG CREATURE this time.

Jason creature was NOT intimidated by Connor and ran out of the forest with chainsaw blaring, chasing Connor!  Connor starting running around like a chicken, in circles, flapping his arms wildly and jumping and shrieking, "WHAT THE F!!  WHAT THE F!!  WHAT THE F!!"  At this point, I may have peed my pants a bit. And I don't think it was from Jason chasing my little son with a chainsaw, but more about how does my son know this language???  I was mortified, aghast and laughing all at the same time.  (I mean, the only time I personally use that phrase is when I'm watching The Walking Dead.  Or Real Housewives of Orange County.  And Connor doesn't watch those with me!  I mean, WAIT, I never use that horrible language.  Or watch those horrible shows. oops...)

Anyway, our family became quite the spectacle at this point, with Connor in full-on FREAK OUT mode (we've seen some impressive autism meltdowns in our time, but we have NEVER seen him quite like that), Mark trying to calm Connor down, and me desperately trying to figure out what was going on (remember, I was at the back and didn't see how this all began -  all I heard was a chainsaw and the F word being repeatedly shouted in my wee little 9 year old darling son's voice). And frankly, I don't even know where Shelby and Noah WERE at this juncture.  Maybe Freddy Krueger was babysitting them?!?  I just don't know.


Revelation Number 7.  Don't forget to put jeans, rather than thin cotton pants, on your children when they're going to be sitting on haystacks.

After exiting the hayride (all of us MUCH worse for the wear after what will forever be known in our family as the "Jason Incident"), Shelby jumped off the trailer frantically scratching her tushie, and, to the great amusement of the waiting crowd of people, yelped, "Itchy bum!  Itchy bum!  The hay gave me itchy bum!"

Revelation Number  8.  Maybe next year we should stick to the carved cute and non-threatening pumpkins at Beaver Lake and leave the scary stuff to the … well, to the more brave than us.

I don't think I want to know any more of our family's dark side character flaws.

The Literal Manifestation of a Butt Face (sorry, Grandma)

We found ourselves in a serious predicament last week when our church's talent (or un-talent) show rolled around.  We'd signed up both Shelby & Noah to do performing acts with Daddy, but then Shelby & Noah came down with fevers and weird speckled throats. 

We didn't want to let the show down, so we decided to save the Noah act and contrived a way for Noah to be there "in spirit."  We made him a "face" on a stick.  We had to cut other parts of the act, like simulated wind, rain and costumes (it would have been majorly, epically awesome - eh there's always next year!), but it still worked.  Oh!!!  And little did we know that we'd just struck KID ENTERTAINMENT GOLD!!

Noah seriously fell in love with his face.  Posing with it….

Dancing with it….

Lounging with it…

KISSING IT!…. (I do NOT know who he's observing that's kissing like that, okay? Yuck)

Ummmm, more posing with it…

Naturally, Shelby began begging to have her very own face.  And naturally (especially after now realizing the potential I'd uncovered for hours of kid entertainment), I happily complied!  And besides, having two Shelbys would be a dream come true!  :)  (well, sometimes, anyway)

And if one face was good, then two was BRILLIANT! They had face fights….

And face kisses…

Watched Scooby Doo together…all four of them...

And Noah proudly taught Shelby his "butt face" pose.   He was VERY proud.   As for me, his mother, the one that's supposed to be raising him into a proper gentleman, well…I was cracking up too much to reprimand him for using the "b" word.  And "tushie face" just isn't as funny, am I right??

For a couple of hours, Connor remained oh-so-mature and above all this face nonsense.  But HAH!  He finally caved!

Connor admiring Noah's buttface technique:

And of course, all toys left on the floor eventually become cat fodder:

Another perk:  Shelby never has to be lonely when she's home from preschool and waiting for "her boys" to come home!

By the way, here's how "Noah in Spirit" looked while performing on stage with Daddy (video stills, not the actual video - sorry!):

Yup.  Well, moving on ... despite my constant nagging them to keep their faces upstairs ("Put your faces upstairs!"  "Take your faces away!"  "Three faces is enough to look at!"), the kids insist on keeping them downstairs where they can be played with as soon as the urge hits them.  So, when not in play, the faces reside in our library books basket.  And basically scare the crackers out of me every time I turn around and do NOT expect to see people in my living room!