It’s already beginning. Lily is playing one boy off the other. A boy we’ll call #2 used to be her boyfriend, but today - not so much. She’s been going to school in the mornings and telling her teachers that she is “sad” or “didn’t get much sleep” (you know, those long hard nights of working all the time that she has). This morning she consoled herself by kissing and hugging #1, then professing her love for him, then getting embarassed and hiding her head under her cubby. Ah, fickle love. It comes and it goes.

Boy, after hearing about Risa’s latest horse escapade, I don’t know which state has more rednecks . . .Virginia or Texas. Right now I think Texas might be in the lead after someone threatened to shoot my sister if she stepped foot on their property while trying to return a crazy horse she had recently purchased from afore-mentioned sniper. This was a woman, too. Nothing says “conflict resolution” and “class” like threatning to shoot the person who is irritating you. Perhaps that tactic would work on clients that bug me. “You stupid varmint! Why cain’t you just go with this here durn marketin’ plan! If you don’t wannit, then I’m a-gonna hunt ya down and shoot your ass!”

I can laugh about it now but at the time that my mother relayed the story to me, it scared the crap out of me. People are really pyscho. I always want to see the good in everyone but let’s face it. Even the good in some people is negated by their utter stupidity. The happy ending is that Risa returned Cujo the Horse, didn’t lose money, didn’t break any bones after being kicked by it and thankfully does not have a cap in her ass.

Everyone’s been asking, so here’s the answer: No. Arden is not walking yet. She does stand by herself, momentarily, when she feels like it. She’ll walk eventually, I suppose when she feels like it - like everything else she’s done. My kids are definitely not precocious when it comes to physical things. Arden is stubborn (like her father of course) and can’t be pushed to do anything on anyone else’s time table. My right arm is twice as strong as my left from hauling her around all the time, but what the heck! It sure is more interesting than lifting weights.

Jennifer and I have begun to plan our trip to Colorado for the speaking engagement. Troy and Sophia are coming out with us - Mike will be at home with the chitlins. I don’t think I could really focus like I think I’m going to need to with my husband and children around. I’m pretty uptight and nervous about the whole speaking gig. I want it to be good - really, really good - and this is coming from someone who doesn’t generally get nervous about anything regarding work. Speaking in front of people doesn’t freak me out but for some reason, this particular event does. Probably because I know some of the marketing directors that will be there from my previous life. Probably because I used to always think that the people who spoke at these conventions were freakin’ brilliant, and now suddenly we are supposed to be brilliant, and I don’t feel brilliant. Who knows. I have til June to get my head around it. Risa is coming to Colorado after the conference is over for some r n’ r. Troy and Jennifer are renting a car so we talked today about heading up to Estes Park or other nice places to spend some time in the beautiful mountains. I love Colorado and will once again feel sorry for myself that I don’t live there when I leave. But not as sorry as I will feel for Mike, being alone with the girls for 5 days straight . . .

Kids and small enclosed spaces, like cars, are god’s way of punishing us for all of our sins. I’m convinced of it.

Since Lily began talking around the age of 2, she hasn’t stopped. Literally. In bed, at night, she talks (or sings) until she passes out, usually with her mouth still open, mid-word. From the moment she wakes up, she’s talking. “Reading” to Lily means that we read one sentence of the book, she asks 4 million questions, and maybe we get to the second page at some point. Most of the time it’s very endearing. However, the constant chatter and bullet-speed questions when combined with the car make me somewhat crazy.

Add to this that Arden doesn’t care for the car. She’s in a phase where if everything isn’t just *so* - the moon and stars in alignment, her diaper freshly changed, her belly full of food, the sun out of her eyes, whatever - she tenses and screeches. She doesn’t like the car seat (though who can blame her on that one - being strapped into a tight space with a huge winter coat on sucks), so generally everytime we put her in the car she lets us know exactly how she feels about it.

Last night Lily played her favorite game - making up some bizarre word and then screaming, “Mommy, say “Aucksandrea!!!” Say it! Say it!” So I repeat the word and she laughs hysterically, and it all starts over again. Last night I was being commanded to repeat more made up weird words while Arden screamed and kicked her car seat, obviously wanting out, and Lily screamed (happily) and kicked, wanting me to repeat more and more of her words. This morning she put my bra over her eyes and called it a “goggle suit”. She thought it was hilarious, especially when she tried to make daddy wear the goggle suit. At least she didn’t ask me to repeat THAT phrase.

So I kept slinking lower and lower into the front seat of the car, thinking, “Help me, O Patron Saint of Parents - Help Me Survive This Small Extremely Loud Moving Object Called A Car Full of Children.” Mike was doing his deep breathing techniques to stay sane. We had already tried, and failed, to have a conversation (our conversations generally start and end around, “Did I tell you what happened to me yester. . . what, Lily???”). I tried to be zen-like and let go. We made it home and I prayed for silence. When 8 PM hit and there was silence throughout the house, it was the greatest gift ever. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Today isn’t any different. Arden is really crabby and every 42 seconds or so she lets out an angry, “AIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and starts kicking whatever is near her. Breathe in, breathe out . . .

A conversation overheard in the hallway today between Lily and her father:

“Here daddy, take the blue horn.”
“What if I want the red horn?”
“No daddy, take the blue horn.”
“But what if I want the red one? Would you let me have it?”
“Ummmm . . . .okay. Here’s the red one.”
(pause for maybe 10 seconds. . . )
“Daddy, can I have it back now?”

Tonight we had dinner with my parental units. The girls were well-behaved although the waitress apparently had it in for us. She gave us a booth that was about half the size we needed, and we were all basically sitting on top of each other. Arden was fine until she decided she wanted to drink her own milk, dammit . . . and that would have been fine, except she was tipping it up in the air like she does with her sippy cups. That doesn’t work with restaurant cups, so we kept pushing it down. Tensing, fist-clenching, and angry grunting ensued. Lily spent most of the meal saying, “Mommy, move over! I have no room.” When I stood up at the end of the meal, my coat was covered in chewed up bits of chicken, mashed macaroni and cheese, and a random mandarin orange. YUMMY.

As we were lying in bed, she petted Mike’s hair and then petted mine. Mine, she informed me, “feels like soft.” I asked her what Daddy’s hair felt like, and she yelled, “It feels like a rooster!!!” I guess the hair gel confuses her - she doesn’t understand why his hair is crispy and mine is soft. I’m not sure what a rooster has to do with all of this, but it was funny at the time.

Lily learned the word “anemone” from Nemo and now practices saying it whenever she gets the chance. For example, “Grammy, can you say ANEMONE???” She’s very proud of herself.

I went back and looked at the blog from the time that Lily was Arden’s age. Sure enough, Lily was completely mobile by this time. I am anxious for Arden to walk. I know other mothers say, “Treasure these infant times. It’s so SWEET.” My back and arms do not find it sweet as I haul her white butt around with me everywhere, in and out of the car seat, into the shopping cart/stroller/crib. I’m ready for my big turkey to start walking, and she apparently isn’t very interested in helping me out here.

We’re gearing up for the Suite C Open House. We still have a lot of little things left to do and we are all fairly busy. I’m more stressed about the Open House than I am about my own job, lack of money, or all the things that I’ve been procrastinating about piling up in my “to do” folder. We already have about 80 people coming and that makes me anxious. I just want it to be good. Thankfully with Maura and Bobby running the important stuff (like booze and food), it most likely WILL be good. We only invited clients and friends we actually like, so that always helps. It will just be an interesting mix - lawyers and professionals combined with a bunch of artsy creative types. You know, like I USED to be before I became totally unhip and uncool.

Maura had an idea to come up with a signature drink for the party - something we could call “Crazy Delicious”. I think it’s a great idea, so any of you big drinkers out there lurking in internet anonymity, please let me know if you have any suggestions. The only caveat is that it has to fit in a plastic cup.

When I picked Lily up at school today, I noticed a large red mark on her face. After questioning the teachers, they told me that her partner in badness, #1 (not his real name), had thrown a rake on the playground because he was mad. Lily happened to be between him, the rake, and the sandbox - and her cheek took the brunt of the rake’s force. Here’s a picture of Lily vs. The Rake.

It doesn’t look like much here but it’s pretty ugly up close and in person. I think perhaps Lily has learned a lesson about temper tantrums - she’s never been on the receiving end of whatever is being thrown at the time. She isn’t too happy about the rake. And believe me, if you ask Lily what happened, she’ll tell you. I asked her when I sat down with her at school, “Lily, what happened to your face?” She told me, very matter-of-factly, “#1 threw a rake at my head.” That isn’t exactly what the situation was, but close enough - in her world, #1 threw a rake, and it hit her in the head. She’s a nut, that one. I think she will survive and heal nicely. Right now she’s recovering by watching “Finding Nemo” for the 100 billionth time.