Hooked on Mozart-- I highly recommend it!

 On the way to preschool this morning my 5 yr old asked for music on the radio. I flipped through various pop stations until he said, "Mom, not those songs. I want the music that makes me feel nice and calm!" I turned it to WCPE and he sighed and snuggled into his carseat. "Yeah, Mom...that's it." 

Thanks, WCPE, I'll be a supporter forever!

http://www.theclassicalstation.org/

Adventures in the Night (not the kind you're thinking...)

Now go to sleep, or I shall have to summon the policeman!

 

My 5 yr old is quite the dreamer. 

I mean, quite the dreamer.

He often talks/shrieks/screams while he's in dreamland,

and he's been climbing down from a top bunk in his sleep since he was about 2.5 yrs old.

Last night was a doozy.

Bedtime...15 minutes later he comes out of the room wide awake.

"MOM. I can't sleep."

I assure him sleep is the wisest alternative of all the other options I have to offer, 

and he quickly returns to bed.

4 hours later, midnight.

One eye open, total bedhead, sleepwalking, he strolls back to where I'm on the computer.

Hands on his hips. Oh yes. 

"MOM."

"I TOLD YOU I COULDN'T SLEEP."

Back to bed.

3am. I wake up to him standing 6 inches from my face.

"MOM."

"My big teddy bear keeps waking me up. He is trying to push me off the bed.

I don't like him. You need to come talk to him."

Sigh......

Into his bedroom where the gigantic teddy bear (bigger than he is, no joke) 

looks to have been thrashed about quite wildy on the top bunk.

"Ok buddy, what do you want? Want to throw him off the bed?" 

"YES. Because he's being mean to me. Get off my bed, teddy bear."

Poor innocent teddy goes thump on the floor.

I always get blamed for everything.

Back to bed.

My dear son awakes around 7:30 am, rubbing his eyes and talking up a blue streak.

"MOM."

"In my dream, you told me to put my clothes on, and I didn't listen to you.
And I went to school and I was naked. And all the kids were laughing at me,

But I wasn't a big boy like I am now. I was a baby. I was a naked baby at school because I didn't listen to you telling me to put my clothes on. And then they picked up the naked baby-- that was me-- and put my clothes on. I didn't like that dream!"

Proof that naked dreams happen to preschool aged children. What researcher do I call with this valuable bit of knowledge?

Here's hoping the chamomile tea works tonight, because we'll all be turning in early!

A Woman for our times...

"A Renaissance Woman is the one who shows up after the battles and says, 

“Hey guys, let’s clean this mess up.” 

She teaches people new skills and cheers them up with her positive attitude. 

She says “bullshit” to power-tripping bullies and helpless victims alike, and uses her incredible crystal magnetism to comfort the fearful and get them to listen to reason. 

She can sail a ship, construct a building, and teach a new language in a single bound, 

through the powers of enthusiasm, humor, and politeness."

—from Perfectly Revolting

 So.

this weekend...

I repaired my own refrigerator

tried out a pole dancing fitness class

took my kids to a 5-year old's birthday party and a Native American Pow-Wow

danced til 2am at a friend's birthday party

dismantled the bathroom sink to rescue a lost earring

and prepped for an upcoming Shaklee Go Green event.

I believe that makes me an official modern-day "Renaissance Woman!"

Coming soon to a Men's Room near you....

The other day we went out to lunch, and I sent my 5 year old to the 

men's restroom to wash his hands.

A second later he comes bursting into the ladies room.

"MOM!"

"It smells reeeeeeaaallly bad in there!"

Pause.

"I guess they don't use Shaklee cleaners!"

(Ahhh. One of my proudest moments as a mother.)

Seriously, Dude

 

This morning's conversation with my 4-year old centered around what constitutes being a "Dude." With a minimal amount of protestation, he was convinced that "Real Dudes" brush their teeth, wear warm jackets, clean up their messes, and help their little sister get ready for school. 

Dude...did I miss something here? Should I be pursuing a career in politics???

 

Where the Hooter Girls are Dancing

Or, "How I Managed to Lose My Child at the Beach with Ten Other Family Members Within a 20 Foot Radius, aka The Most Terrifying 30 Minutes of my Entire Life."

 Spent a fantastic, wild weekend with six of my nine siblings over the weekend when my older sister graduated in Virginina Beach.

Yeah, you read right. Nine siblings. Six this weekend. Plus the matriarch of the family, three spouses (or spouse equivalent), and five grandchildren.

{How many people is that???}

Four cars, plus my aunt, cousin, her hubby and their son were with us much of the time.

A few snapshots:

Friday evening, grocery shopping for dinner. We decided to make tacos & burritos. 5lbs of ground beef, 2 lbs. of refried beans, a lb. of tomatoes, head of lettuce, 24 oz of soure cream, and a JUG (don't know how big it was) of salsa. Oh yeah, plus torillas and taco shells.

And a gallon of sangria!

In the middle of dinner preparation, two sisters and I are doing an intense P90X plyometrics workout. My mom (a manager at Curves) is correcting our form. Madhouse. Babies underfoot, and I think Natalia got stepped on at least once or twice.

Saturday morning. AMAZING. Entire family out of the condo by 7:15am for 9:30am graduation. Loaded into the cars and on the road by 7:30am.

I am not sure there is a miracle greater than that.

There are over 1,000 graduates at the ceremony. We can't keep track of our own 15 peeps. Sergio heard rumors of cookies and juice, and off he goes with a couple of kids. I text him after a while, "Where are you and the boys?" His response, "Where the Hooter girls are dancing." (This is Regent University, after all. One of the most conservative Christian schools in the U.S., possibly the world.)

Saturday afternoon, off to the beach. It's a friggin' sandstorm. The kids are crying and getting sand in their eyes, but eventually they acclimate to the sting of sand whipping them and get to playing.

Then the worst moment of my life: my 4 year old vanishes.

Vanishes. Into thin air. surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, parents. He is simply gone.

One valuable thing about a big family is they make one hell of a search party-- off we go in all different directions. 10 minutes later we haven't found him, and I call 911.

What follows is the longest 10 minutes of my entire life. I stay in one place, waiting for the police to show up, while my family and some other families continue to search. Each second is torment.

And then I get the text from Sergio: "They found him at Pier 30."

We are at Pier 20. He walked ten blocks, following a little friend at first, then looking for us and wandering away. A family found him, wrapped him in a towel, gave him a lollipop and called the police.

Any distinguishing characteristics? Why yes, Officer. He's wearing a blue Batman speedo, Brasilian style. "Yep," the Officer confirms. "We got a call about the blue speedo kid."

We are all crying when we're reunited. I can't imagine how parents go through this without ever finding their children. It's the most horrible experience I've ever known, and my heart bleeds for those who have endured worse than I. When we wrap him in our arms, Little Sergio is half-sobbing and half excited, saying he was scared and yet trying to explain to us about the police car where he got a ride. It's a sweet moment.

Well, after that everything is just dandy. On Mother's Day I awake to a sumptuous breakfast in bed. We spend a couple hours at the {fenced-in} pool and then we're off, headed back home.

Wild, wild East. Yippeeeeeee!

Here's photographic evidence: