Elmyra Trahan

You may or may not remember a cartoon in the 90s called "Tiny Toon Adventures". The premise was the next generation of cartoon characters went through "Acme Looniversity" to learn how to be cartoon characters from professors like Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, and Bugs Bunny. There was a character, Elmyra, who LOVED animals. Loved to the point of suffocation, capture, injury. She definitely didn't live by the motto, "If you love it, set it free...Let's just say that there is a striking resemblance between Hannah and this cartoon character. And, it goes far beyond the red hair. Hannah is a pet killer.

Okay, I can't say conclusively that Hannah killed Mikie's frog. On one of our recent snow days, I turned around to find Hannah shaking the frog tank. And, for an eight hour period after that, Flippy (yes, the frog was named Flippy) was floating belly up, twitching, trying to upright himself as he struggled to survive.

Mikie was fairly accepting of Flippy's untimely demise (I omitted the small detail that Hannah had been seen shaking the tank when I told him of the frogs passing). His only request was that we get a "guinea pig that's black and white and call him Rhino."

And so, we introduce pet #2: Rhino (or "Whino" for those of us who don't recognize the letter "R"). So, in addition to working full time and caring for two kids, I have another small mammal to keep, clean, fed, and healthy. Oh, and safe, which, for Rhino's sake, I hope to have greater success with than Flippy.

Love, The Trahans

Mom's Best Christmas Present Ever!

I have wanted a digital SLR camera since Mikie started running faster than the shutter speed on my regular camera. I had tried making the camera take multiple shots in succession in hopes of getting one good picture to no avail. Mike upgraded my camera for my birthday a year before Hannah was born which helped slightly. As Mike started playing soccer, my desire for a digital SLR camera grew. With very few ideas of what else to get me for Christmas, Mike broke down and bought me one. And, not just anyone, a Nikon D5000.

I am no photography expert, but, I am amazed by how much nicer my photos look. And, this is without me editing them, which, incidentally I can now do ON THE CAMERA, as opposed to uploading and Photoshopping for hours on end.

These are some of my favorites, mostly because they perfectly capture my kids' personalities. Alas, I can't take credit for them (the photos, not the kids), since Mike actually took all four of these pictures:

Mikie, full of love for life. . . Hannah, scathing mad when she doesn't get her way. . .looking cute as a button when she realizes others are watching and that she needs to keep up the ruse of innocence.So, if you like the photos on the blog going forward, you can thank Mikie. Because, until I find free time (ha ha) to read the fancy book he bought me to go with the camera, the credit for the pictures is owed more to the camera than the photographer.

Love, The Trahans

Diva, Thy Name is Hannah

Hannah is now 22 months old. And, with the attitude on her, you'd think she was 21 years old. More often then not, I find myself telling her, "Although you may think the world revolves around you, it does not. There are other people here." She usually responds with a scowl. . .I am convinced Hannah believes that everyone on this planet is here to serve her. For the longest time, she called Mike (and many other people) "Mommy". At first I thought, she didn't understand that Mike was "Daddy". I would ask her, "Where's daddy?" and she would look at me with this cheeky grin, as if to say, "I'm not going to tell you. You know darn well where he is." When Mike would come home from work, she would look at me and yell, "Mommy's home!" and run towards the door. If Mike was near the refrigerator she would yell, "Water, Mommy!" Mike would ask, "Do you want me to get you water", to which she would emphatically shake her head "yes". It quickly became apparent that in Hannah's mind, "Mommy" was synonymous with "servant".

In addition, Hannah yells/barks just about everything that comes out of her mouth. She walks into a room, and if you don't immediately acknowledge her presence, you here, "HEY!" Mike didn't notice her walk into the office one morning and thought Mikie was talking to him. He was shocked to see the little princess standing in the doorway.

While her vocabulary is becoming more and more extensive, her pronunciation lacks something. Namely, the letter "R". She has a terrible Massachusetts accent. I am trying to convince her that there really are 26 letters of the alphabet. Her favorite word (other than "no") is "mine". Everything is "MY TUCK" (my truck), "MY JUICE BOX", "MY WAH-DUH" (my water). If she wants me to herself, she will attempt to block Mikie by pushing him out of the way with her butt while grabbing onto me yelling "MY MOMMY." The only positive to come out of this possession is "MY BOTH-AH" (my brother). The majority of the time she adores Mikie. On her terms. If he comes in and gives her a hug, after three seconds of giggles, she ends up pushing him away whining. We frequently have to tell him to let go because Hannah doesn't want to be hugged. Poor Mikie. She wants to do everything he does. If Mikie has ice cream, Hannah wants ice cream. If Mikie is watching movie's in the car, Hannah wants to watch movies in the car. Conversely, she is already smart enough to know the routine. The other night, she was upstairs getting ready for bed, and ran to the top of the stairs and screamed down "NIGHT-NIGHT" at Mike and Mikie because they hadn't come upstairs to get ready for bed.

She loves a few things other than her brother. Elmo is a big favorite. When she was home sick one day, I turned on Sesame Street. I thought she was going to explode, she was so excited to see that Elmo was on TV. She kept running over to the TV and waving at him, petting the TV, not really grasping that he couldn't see her. She has an Elmo doll that she carries around. I got her Elmo slippers recently (since they combine her love of shoes with her love of a furry red monster). I asked her if she showed Elmo her slippers, and she marched over and waved her foot over the doll's head.

Speaking of footwear, the Diva is obsessed with shoes and accessories. She has at least six purses, but it doesn't stop her from marching into my closet and demanding to be given some of mine. She is equally possessive of my shoes. She prefers my flip flops (not thongs, she doesn't like them between her toes), slippers, and pumps. Zero desire to wear my boots or sneakers, although she LOVES to wear Mike and Mikie's sneakers. I hate to admit it, but she gets around pretty well in my high heels. For Christmas, Grandma Pookie got her a Princess Fiona costume, some necklaces and a purple evening bag. Our friends Matt and Catherine sent her fairy wings, feather boa, and wrist scarves. As you can see from the pictures, she was totally taken with her new appearance.Between the sassy attitude and the air of entitlement, I think we have a rough road ahead of us. I cringe less at the thought of college and more at the thought of how elaborate a wedding this one is going to want, assuming she finds someone she deems "worthy" of her attention.

Love, The Trahans

Santa, Lies, and Legos

My friend, Jenny, just recently posted on her blog about why she doesn't feel the need to "promote" Santa as a real person. My favorite quote: "I don't mind having Santa be any one of a number of fictional characters that we talk about/read about/watch but I don't see any reason that Santa can't be like Elmo. No one goes to elaborate lengths to convince their kids that Elmo is real, and kids seem to be pretty into Elmo all the same. And I'm pretty sure that my children will still be big fans of Christmas without us acting as if Santa is an actual real person."

And then there is me. I concoct the most elaborate lies to further my children's belief in Santa. When they realize there is no Santa, they will hate me. They may even need counseling. Until, one day, they have kids of their own (God help us all), at which point they will hopefully understand.I have to say, my lies started out innocently enough, same as most parents. Santa is a kind old man who lives at the North Pole (please, Mikie, don't look at a map and realize that their is no land mass in the Arctic Ocean). The whole point of my lie being to bring some magic into my child's life. . .

Then, my child hit the terrible-two's. . . at around 18 months. And, the terrible-two's turned into the even-more-terrible-threes (which no one tells you about before you actually have children). Around the same time, I began to use Santa as a scare tactic. "Do you think Santa would approve of this behaviour?" "Are you being naughty or nice?" "Do you realize it is only three days until Christmas which is still plenty of time for Santa to decide NOT to come to our house?" I convinced Mikie that Santa had given me his phone number to report back to him about Mikie's behaviour. I even CALLED Santa one night from Target during a meltdown (boy did that backfire. . . everyone in Target looked at me like I was an ogre while my child begged me to call Santa back). . .

But I digress. This year, Mikie made out his list for Santa (which I now use as an educational tool to force him to practice writing and spelling). In addition to just about every Lego set on the planet, Mikie (for the second year in a row) had listed the Lego Death Star.

Now, for those of you who don't follow Lego, the Death Star is a $400 Lego set. And, "Santa" (meaning me) did not want to spend $400 on one toy. Because, I can honestly say that would have been the only toy under the tree. But, how do you tell a child that Santa isn't going to bring them the one toy they really want?

Enter the big lie for 2010: "Lego's are patented, so Santa can't make them at his workshop in the North Pole. He has to go to the Lego store and buy them like everyone else. And, can you imagine how much money it would cost him if he bought every kid who loved Lego's all the Lego sets they wanted? If he bought you it, he wouldn't be able to bring you any other toys. Do you really want only one toy under the Christmas tree? Or would you rather have a lot of other toys?"

The lie worked. Mikie chose having more than one toy on Christmas morning. And, maybe due to guilt, maybe due to a desire to give my child everything his heart desires, I began my campaign for a Death Star. Mike and I convinced our families to chip in whatever amount they were going to spend on Mikie into one pool; we would make up the difference (if any) to get Mikie the Death Star from his family. The result was epic (especially since he wasn't expecting it). You can view the video here.

Evidently, getting the coolest Lego set produces a rush of testosterone, turning a child into the Incredible Hulk, because I swear that Lego set weighted at least 20 pounds. I had to have the store associate carry it to my car (since it is hard to carry a large, awkwardly sized, 20-lb box and push a stroller with an equally heavy toddler).

We also chronicled the construction of the Death Star, which was not nearly as bad as Mike expected. To view the photos, click here.

I do have to say, having worked on the construction, the engineers at Lego are both brilliant and creative. They have captured every detail of those movies in this set and made it operational. And, they have an incredible sense of humour. If you don't believe me, check out Lego.com. In addition to their online catalog, they have games and movies. The Lego Star Wars movies continue to entertain me (yes, I admit, me, not Mikie). My favorite one is a plot summary of Episode 4 entitled "May the 4th Be With You".

Merry Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

For the Love of Sugar

Most days, I avoid the grocery store like the plague. Since my role other than "working mom" is "personal chauffeur to Master and Mistress Trahan", I am tired at the end of the day. Hell, that's an understatement: I'm tired in the middle of the day. But, by the end of the day, with two kids in tow, the thought of taking them out in public makes me want to run and hide.

And then there are those days where I am desperate for. . . something. Inside, part of me is screaming "No. . .NO. . . HELL NO! Turn back. Find a happy place." And then there is another part of me that looks in the back seat, sees my munchkins sitting contentedly, and says "It won't be that bad. We'll be in and out in no time." Famous last words. . .

In preparation for Mikie's birthday party, I HAD to go to the grocery store. I had plans to bake a lot of things. . . cakes shaped like Lego guys, sugar cookies shaped like Star Wars figures, brownies, etc. And, to accomplish these things, I needed to replenish my stock of baking supplies. I should have gone on my lunch break, but, I didn't. Which is how Hannah and I ended up in the baking aisle of Price Chopper one evening. . .

If you read "Sugar and Spice...", you know Hannah has a thing for sugar. You'd think having been traumatized by the sheer volume of sugar coating my child and my living room, that I would have more sense than to let my child walk down the baking aisle. But, clearly, logic and reasoning skills had abandoned me when I pulled into the parking lot. Otherwise, I wouldn't have entered the store. But, I did enter the store, and I did put the child down so I could reach the box of brownie mix off the top shelf. By the time I looked back, Hannah had picked up THREE packages of rainbow sprinkles. She had one under her right arm, one in her right hand, one hugged against her chest with her left hand, and was trying to make a quick getaway down the aisle before I noticed (as quick as one can when there legs are 12 inches long and they are carrying their weight in sugar).

After blocking her exit, I managed to stop laughing long enough to grab my cell phone to capture her attempt to eat the sprinkles. I did get a few nasty looks from an old man who obviously thought I should take away the sprinkles and discipline my child, NOT capturing her antics for all posterity. Clearly, he doesn't read this blog.

Love, The Trahans

Two Degrees of William Shatner

How are yours truly and William Shatner related? Crabtree & Evelyn. Yes, William Shatner and Craig Ferguson did a skit on last night's episode of The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson, during which they made reference to Crabtree & Evelyn. And, more specifically, the fabulous products they formulate. And, since that happens to be my job (formulating fabulous products), I feel a new kinship to the Shat. . .

Incidently, should Mr. Shatner read this post, if you ever want your own line of personal care products, this chemist would be happy to listen to you tell me how to formulate. Trust me, there are many people without chemistry degrees who tell me how to formulate on a daily basis. At least I'd be guaranteed some laughs in the process.

Love, The Trahans

Weddings

It was September when I started writing this. Now it's officially October. So, I figured I had to finish the updates from summer before the trifecta of holidays. . . Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

As you can see, our summer was packed with travel and weddings. . .

Wedding #1: Kate & Marta

Picture it. . . Late June in North Carolina. We arrive amidst in the midst of a heat wave. Temperatures above 100 degrees each day, with humidity to match. I would love to say that it was a beautiful state, but we honestly tried to bask in the cool breeze of the central air conditioning as much as possible.

The wedding was small. Marta's brother, Jawan, and I were the only attendants, plus Hannah and Mikie as flower girl and ring bearer.

The wedding was memorable. Hannah walked down the aisle in socks because I didn't realize her feet had grown between when I bought the shoes and the big day. Not a problem if the wedding were inside. But, it was outside. . . on a concrete slab. . . at noon. . . and, did I mention, it was 100 degrees?

The air conditioning in the reception site was broken when we arrived to set up. Thanks to Marta's mom and I raising hell, it was fixed 30 minutes before the wedding. Well, partially fixed. One of two units was functional.

Once we forgot about the heat, capsizing cupcakes and melting makeup, we all had a great time. Marta's family made all of the food which was both a daunting task for close to 100 guests. Everything tasted amazing. In addition, Marta's mom was the officiant. I think it made the wedding even more special, watching how happy and proud she was of Marta as they said their vows to each other. After the ceremony, Hannah took a dip in one of the ice chests (and in the sink after all the guests left and we were waiting to lock up). Once he was out of his suit, Mikie had a great time playing with his cousins.Unfortunately, the long weekend ended quickly. Katie & Marta got to go on their honeymoon while we flew back to work. On the plus side, it felt a lot cooler in Massachusetts when we got back (even if it was still in the 90s).

Wedding #2: Krista & Jeff

Last summer, my cousin Krista moved in with us to do an internship. She was a huge help, and we all had a great time bonding. In spite of all the time she spent with us, Mikie managed to convince her that he was a "sweet boy". And, so, Mikie was asked to be ring bearer in Krista's wedding. . . in August. . . in Texas. . . where we stopped checking the thermometer when we saw the temperature reach 105 degrees.

Unlike Katie's wedding, Krista and Jeff had the good sense to have their wedding in the evening, inside, with the air conditioning blasting. And, since a 7pm wedding in Texas translates to bedtime in Massachusetts, my aunt helped us find a babysitter to watch the munchkins while we went to the reception. Which meant we had more opportunity to enjoy the wedding. Plus, we had all day Sunday to spend with my Aunt Maureen, Uncle Jim, cousin James and his fiance, Sarah, before flying back to Massachusetts. Sunday also included a dip in the 93 degree pool at 5pm, which although not very refreshing, was entertaining for Mikie (as were the stash of James and Krista's old Disney VHS tapes that Mikie found and watched afterwards).

Mikie looked quite dapper in his tuxedo, and told me he would "tell the flowergirls what they were supposed to do" since he was a pro at weddings now. I think the wedding coordinator might not agree, but, he made it down the aisle with only a few guffaws (I remember him holding the pillow over his face as he passed our pew). I have video: the full processional and the "abridged" version of Mikie's antics. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures because, although I remembered the camera, I left the battery charging in the office.

All in all, we had our fill of weddings. At least until October when James and Sarah get married, as well as Mike's pseudo stepsister, Jen.

Love, The Trahans

For The Love of Crocs

Hannah is obsessed with two things: shoes and handbags. She is what I would imagine Imelda Marcos was like as a child. If you leave a pair of shoes out, you will find Hannah parading around the house in them. And she isn't particular about size, color, style. You can find her in Mike's sneakers one minute, followed by my heels the next. And, as you can see in the video, she toddles around with a fair amount of balance (one of a few traits not inherited from me).

Her favorite pair of shoes are Mikie's crocs. To the point of making it difficult to leave the house in the morning. When I tell Mikie to put on his shoes, Hannah runs out of the room, grabs his crocs and starts hugging them possessively to her body. The standoff ends either with me convincing her to turn them over to her brother or ripping them from her little paws.

So began our mission to get Hannah crocs. I started by finding ever pair of crocs Mikie had outgrown that I hadn't trashed (there were two). Since both were too big for her to wear out of the house, we started searching stores for tiny pairs of crocs.

Our search ended this weekend at a Nordstrom's in Dallas, Texas. Hannah is now the proud owner of a pair of pink camouflage crocs, complete with sparkle butterfly and flower jibbits.

I do have to wonder, what is the point of pink camouflage? I mean, I get camouflage: decorating something to conceal. But, where are you intending to conceal something when you decorate it with a multitude of pink paint? The Barbie aisle at Toys 'R Us?

Regardless, Hannah loves her crocs. When I dropped her off at daycare this morning with instructions to "Show Ms. Danielle your new shoes", she twirled in a circle, admiring her feet (I swear I didn't teach her that, I am so far from a girly girl). In the afternoon, the staff claimed she had a tantrum when they tried to take them off and change her diaper. And, this evening when I put her to bed, she refused to lay down until I put them back on her feet. . .Sweet Dreams.

Love, The Trahans

Driving Miss Daisy

Hannah is obsessed with the Little Tikes Cozy Coupe. Originally, I thought it was an obsession with ride-on toys. So, we brought Mikie's BMW up from the basement. Nothing. We had some success with Mikie's tricycle, but Hannah is still too short for her feet to reach the pedals. By the second time Toys 'R Us offered $20 off any Little Tikes item, we broke down and purchased Hannah her own car.

You would think that having her own car would keep her entertained for hours. Unfortunately, the Cozy Coupe has a floorboard that can be removed to drive Flintstones-style, or left in for little kids so that the mom and dad can push them around without risk of running over legs.

Now, there is NO WAY I would have installed the floorboard. I mean, her only experience with this car is at daycare, where the kid power fuels these vehicles. The last thing I want is a toy that requires me to hunch over and push my prima donna toddler around the house all night. My chiropractor already makes enough off of me, thank you very much. Mike didn't follow the same train of thought. . .

Luckily, Mikie has BOUNDLESS amounts of energy and all but jumped at the opportunity to push his sister around. You can watch a video of his devotion to his sister by clicking here.

Love, The Trahans

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, in a far away place, there lived a Princess named Hannah. Hannah was known throughout the land as Princess Tinklepants because of her ability to sprinkle urine on all unsuspecting attendants who happened to help her change into dry undergarments.

As she got older, she noticed that not everyone wears disposable diapers. Many whom she looked up to (not necessarily out of respect as much as they were taller) pee into a porcelain throne. How appropriate, she thought. A throne for Princess Tinklepants in which one can tinkle.

Not satisfied with watching others, Hannah wanted to join in the fun. And so she began her days perched on the porcelain potty, looking down at her loyal attendants, entertained by their looks of anticipation, wondering if this time she would actual pee. . .

Sounds like a lovely story. An endearing heroine, destined to rule. Will she or won't she lay claim to her throne and her title by learning to pee in the potty?

Unfortunately, at 7am, hair combed, makeup on, dressed in clothes which are clean (if not always ironed), I, Lauren, Queen of the land (who is frequently mistaken for the Chauffeur, Cook, Maid and Butler) finds little pleasure in the potty time ritual. Princess Hannah, one of little words (because whining "eh" and pointing is quite effective), likes to looks down at her diaper, announce "Pee-pee" while running towards the potty, ripping at her diaper. Not one to stifle her interest, I help her onto her throne and talk to her, hoping she will actually pee. The process is all the more amusing when I don't have the Bob The Builder padded child seat in the bathroom she runs to (we used to have two, but one seems to have disappeared in the last three years, and I haven't found the time or motivation to get to Babies 'R Us recently). So, picture a very tiny butt perched precariously on the toilet seat, mom hovering nearby holding her to prevent her falling into the toilet (she's so tiny, I'm convinced her entire body will one day end up in the bowl).Princess Tinklepants is giddy during this event. Especially if she has an audience other than myself. And, Mikie (either, because he loves her, or because he is trying to get revenge for all the time she wants to watch him pee) is always happy to play the role of Court Jester. She sits for at most 10 seconds. Then she squirms. I say, "All done?" She nods her head emphatically and tries to get down. While I try to wrestle her back into a diaper, she throws a leg up on the toilet and tries to ascend her throne again. So, I help her back onto the bowl. Mikie dances. Hannah giggles. Commence squirming, dressing, followed by the frantic climb to get back on the bowl. The process continues in this manner for about 3 minutes (more or less in direct relationship to how rushed I am or how crappy a day I have had at work).

Eventually, I get exasperated, and, trying to mask my annoyance, I wave goodbye to the water, flush the toilet, and let her watch the water drain out of the bowl.

Unfortunately, Hannah has recently reverted back to her less than regal habit: splashing in the toilet. It appears that she views flushing as the perfect opportunity to reach into the bowl to play in the water. Luckily (unlike when she barges in on anyone else using the potty) the water is both clean (well, maybe not clean as much as "free of bodily fluids") and recently flushed, so it could be much worse. And, my shouts of disdain coupled with Mikie's giggles only feed her enthusiasm for splashing.

After much scolding and hand washing, I push both of them out of the bathroom. Until the next time she yells "pee-pee". Because, as the story goes, this could be the time. . .

I swear, my kids see me and think "what can we do to push mom over the edge today?"

Love, The Royal Family

Grocery Shopping

At least once a month, while driving home from work, I feel compelled to stop at the grocery store. I say this only happens about once a month because, each trip leaves me scarred and it takes a month to convince myself that "it won't be that bad". Tonight was one of those trips. . .

On the one hand, it could have been worse. It could have been like the time Hannah refused to hand over the package of Knorr instant rice to the cashier to scan, resulting in a tug of war with Hannah holding on with all of her might while Mikie and I tried to pry her off of the bag. The bag tore open, spewing powdered flavor everywhere, leaving me too embarrassed not to pay for it.

Or, it could have been one of those embarrassing morning stops to pick up breakfast when Mikie insisted on wearing his swim goggles through the store (on the off chance the lobster tank overflows).And let's not forget the trip where, in my effort to appease my whining 5 year old, I stood in the doorway, cart full of groceries blocking the exit, rummaging through my purse desperately looking for quarters to feed the toy machine while Hannah sat on my hip ripping the hair out of my head. Some stranger felt so bad for me, they gave Mikie $0.50 after he promised to "take care of mommy".

If I can erase the screaming baby and the piteous stares from my memory, tonight's trip was almost humorous. . .

As the scene opens, we see a well dressed mother navigating a grocery store parking lot full of puddles with two kids. Entering the store, she places the toddler in a shopping cart. Said toddler would be extremely cute if she didn't look like she bathed in dirt. She is holding what remains of her brother's Tootsie Pop in one hand, and a fistful of long red hair (her mother's, not her own) in her other hand. While mom is attempting to locate her grocery list, the older child castrates himself in an effort to climb into the cart.

The threesome quickly make their way through the aisles (mom knowing that she has a limited amount of time before the sticky toddler starts screaming for freedom). Entering the cereal aisle, conversation ensues:

Mikie: "We need to get Honey Nut Cheerios."

Mom: "Mikie, you don't eat cereal, let alone Honey Nut Cheerios. Why should I buy them?"

Mikie: "For the toy."

Mom: pauses, looking for the box to see what toy is so special.

Mikie: "They're down on the left."

Mom: momentarily stunned to hear that her son miraculously remembered his left from his right (cereal box toys being a strong motivator): "I see it."

The box contains a Penguins of Madagascar flip toy. Amidst stifled giggles and sideways glances from the FOUR store employees that are restocking the cereal aisle, Mom quickly scans the shelves, looking for another cereal containing the same toy. Sensing the natives are getting restless. . .

Mom: "There must be another cereal that contains the same toy."

Mikie: "Yeah, Cocoa Puffs."

Mom: "We are NOT getting Cocoa Puffs!"

Amidst more laughter from store employees, our protagonist sheepishly loads the box of Honey Nut Cheerios into the cart, announcing to no one in general "Hopefully your sister likes Honey Nut Cheerios."

Since the previously pleasant toddler turned into "Evil Nibbles" shortly thereafter, our heroine suffers more looks in her rush to pay and exit the store.

Upon returning home, our main character relates the shopping experience to her husband. . .

Dad: "I explained to Mikie over the weekend when we were at Target that we would NOT buy cereal just for the toy."

Mom fights the urge to laugh hysterically, wondering if the comfort of a padded cell would be more or less relaxing then her life. At this point in time, our five year old unknowingly enters the kitchen in search of his new toy.

Dad: "Mikie, what did I tell you this weekend about the Penguins toy?"

Mikie: attempts to appear remorseful by looking at the floor, but is unable to mask the HUGE grin on his face: "That we weren't going to get it."

Dad: "So what did you do?"

Mikie: runs out of the room with grin permanently affixed to his face: "Well, I decided to ask Mom, because I REALLY wanted it."Tomorrow, I am going to paste this post onto my steering wheel, as a more permanent reminder that, next time, I should continue driving past the store.

Love, The Trahans

"Sugar and Spice...

and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of."

Hannah brought new meaning to this saying today. . .

Let me start off by saying, I am still sick. In addition to my dysfunctional Eustachian tubes, I have also developed TMJ syndrome (aka "lock jaw") and a FOURTH sinus infection in the last six months. Plus vertigo and motion sickness which isn't easy to cope with when you are traveling as much as I have been. Thankfully, I am seeing both the ENT and the dentist this week, both of whom should be able to help fix me.

Having just returned from a four day trip to Long Island on business, during which I developed this lovely sinus infection, I was not thinking clearly. It is the only way to explain why, while on the phone with my sister and trying to find something to feed Hannah for lunch, I let her walk off with the shaker of colored sugar that I bought to decorate cookies at Christmas (cookies I never made). I did process what she was walking away with, but some part of my brain (the drugged part) said "she'll never get it open."

Approximately five minutes later, Hannah walked into the office carrying the empty sugar canister. Okay, not completely empty. It still had most of the yellow sugar (it looks like moisture mixed with sugar clogged the holes in the shaker). Here are some pictures:I apologize for the blurriness. . . I was so full of mixed emotions, I was simultaneously laughing and crying at the site of her. And then, I went into the living room and saw this:Thankfully, it was very easy to vacuum up because it was dry. Mike had more of a challenge cleaning the baby, who, incidentally, had just been bathed thirty minutes earlier. His complaint: she was causing the bath water to turn blue/green.

Clearly, they should change the warning on the prescription drug bottle to say, "WARNING: may impair judgement. Use caution when operating heavy machinery or when caring for young children."

Love, The Trahans

Dear Huggies

I like to think of myself as pretty marketing savvy. I may not have my MBA, but 10 years working in the consumer products industry gives me enough insight to appreciate a genius marketing campaign. But, on a recent trip to Target, I was startled to see this:Diapers made to look like you are wearing jeans? Really?

I get putting cutesy Disney characters on diapers because your child may like insert appropriate Disney movie here (although, arguably, most can't tell you if they like them or not). And, I get the Pull-ups with designs that appear and fade as positive reinforcement for NOT peeing in your diaper (or as a quick signal to an adult that you need a clean one). But, at the end of the day, unless you are letting your kid run around in just a diaper, NO ONE SEES THE DIAPER. Diapers are hidden by CLOTHES. And, in spite of the hot weather, my kid still wears clothes to daycare every day. Sure, she may run around in a diaper for a short span of time after coating her second or third outfit of the day in food while I try and muster enough energy to wrestle her into her pajamas. But, the thought has never entered my mind to let her spend an entire day only wearing a diaper.

In addition, not once has my child complained that her pink princess Pull-ups are "unfashionable" and that she needs the limited edition denim diapers. And, if she could complain, I would argue that maybe it's time to potty train her. Because, if she spends that much time looking at her diaper, she has plenty of free time to figure out that she has to pee.

In spite of the fact that I think this is the stupidest idea the Product Development team at Kimberly Clark could ever muster, I will concede that their marketing department deserves a raise for both their commercial and tagline: "The coolest you'll look pooping your pants."

Regardless, unless they take the plain old Huggies Supreme diapers off store shelves completely for the next four months, I can guarantee that my child will not be wearing them. Let's just hope my boycott doesn't damage her social status with the other girls at daycare.

Love, The Trahans

Mikie the Inventor

Okay, Mike and I debated as to whether or not this was appropriate to post. In the end, I wanted to document for my future daughter-in-law so that she knows exactly what she is getting herself into. . .

There was a science fair at school last month. The kids who entered were supposed to come up with an invention, build it for less than $30, and write a report about it. We ambitiously thought it would be a good way for him to do something he loves (use his imagination, build things) while encouraging him to write. Just like Flint Lockwood (and if you don't know who that is, you should rent "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs" immediately).Unfortunately, we procrastinated on the report. You can't blame us. He came up with the invention the weekend before the fair. The report was really involved given the fact Mikie is 5 years old. We didn't want to type it for him as that defeated the purpose of practicing his writing AND set a bad precedent that we would do his homework for him. But, it's hard enough to get the kid to write a sentence, so a whole report was not something I was looking forward to.

Long story short, we never got the report done. We had an invention but told Mikie he couldn't submit it to the science fair. As a consolation prize for doing such a good job inventing, I convinced his teacher to let him bring it in for show and tell and give a verbal report to his friends so that he could feel special.

Clearly, I didn't need to boost his self esteem to encourage him to invent. Because he has continued to come up with ideas for new inventions. None as memorable as this evenings. I was bathing Hannah in one bathroom. Mike came in and informed me that Mikie just came up with a new invention while using the other bathroom. My brain immediately thought of something like a bidet or an automatic toilet paper dispenser. Not Mikie. His invention? A penis that poop comes out of. Because trying to wipe your own butt is way too inconvenient.

I hope God is taking notes so he doesn't make the same mistake next time he is creating life. . .

Only Mikie.

Love, The Trahans

Tea Time

For Mother's Day, Mike bought me a new HD camcorder. To test it out, I recorded Hannah playing. Her new favorite activity is playing Susie homemaker. She likes to feed us, either pretend tea party, or her goldfish snack. We bought her a little kitchen, so that she can stop pilfering plates and utensils out of the dishwasher.

In an effort to figure out what size dress to order for Auntie Katie's wedding next month, Hannah modeled a bunch of different dresses one evening. She was so enamored with herself, wiggled away, grabbed her tea cups and played hostess to Mike and I. Frankly, it was so stinking cute, I couldn't help buy let her stay up late and play. To see for yourself, click here.

Cheers!

Love, The Trahans

This Moment Brought To You By Mikie

You'd think after five and a half years, I would learn to watch what I say around Mikie. . .

Sunday, May 9th. Time = 3pm. It's Mother's Day, but, because I am heading out of town on business tomorrow, Mikie and I head out to run some important errands: get a hair cut, pick up business cards at Staples, take Mikie for ice cream, go to Target. . .

Mikie: "Why can't we go to ice cream first?"

Mom: "Because, if Staples doesn't have mommy's business cards done, they are going to have to keep working FOR FREE while we get ice cream."

Mikie: "Why?"

Mom: "Because I need those cards before the store closes today."

Fast forward a few minutes. We are now in Staples. I inform the clerk that I placed an order for business cards the day before, but that I'm not sure if they are ready yet.

Clerk: "I'll check. What's your name?"

Mom: "Trahan, Lauren. Someone was supposed to call me, but I didn't get a message, so I'm not sure if they're ready yet."

Mikie: "And if they aren't, YOU have to keep working FOR FREE!"

At that moment, the clerk looks up at me and hands me the box of business cards. Unable to avoid her gaze, I chuckle, wanting to say, "thankfully, no one has to do THAT."

Sure that was awkward. But, I can't imagine if he regurgitated EVERYTHING I said. . .

Love, The Trahans

Mr. Sandman

When Mikie was Hannah's age, it seemed like he was trying to bring home the playground one shoeful at a time. Kind of like Tim Robbins in "The Shawshank Redemption", except not as subtle.

Granted, that was when he was a toddler. Now, he's big. He's in school. He's reading. He runs around and pretends to be Luke Skywalker or Anakin, or whatever other action figure comes into his head.

Or so I thought. He came inside to help me drop Hannah off at daycare. For everyone who doesn't have young children, our daycare, like others we've been at, requires you to take off your shoes in the toddler room (being that infants and toddlers like to crawl and occasionally lick the floor). As we were putting our shoes back on to leave, Mikie started the following conversation:

Mikie: "Why is there always sand in my shoes?"

Mom: sarcastically "Maybe because you like to roll in the sand."

Mikie: seriously "Or maybe because I buried my sneakers yesterday."

Are you kidding me? How does one take off their shoes and bury them at recess without one of the many teachers and aides noticing?

Fast-forward eight hours later. After picking Mikie up from school, I am helping to buckle him in the car. I notice an immense amount of sand in his ear. He truly looked like the victim of a craft project gone awry: the kind where you spray glue on the page and then sprinkle sane over top. Except someone used his ear instead of paper. I can't help it, I have to ask:

Mom: "Mikie, how did you get so much sand in your ears?"

Mikie: "Because I buried myself in the sandbox."

Mom: "What? You buried yourself in the sandbox!?!"

Mikie: "Except my shoes."

Okay, because that makes it better. Well, my kid suffocated on sand, but at least his shoes are clean. . .

Mom: "Including your head?"

Mikie: "Well, not my face."

So, clearly with age does not come maturity. Or does it? At least he recognized that he shouldn't cover his face with sand.

Love, The Trahans

Teaching for Parents

Homework time this evening didn't go as planned. With Mike working late, Hannah drove Mikie and I crazy with her efforts to push him out of his desk chair and take over. It doesn't help that Mikie doesn't like to sit, preferring to "perch" on the edge of the chair. This gives Nibbles ample opportunity to wedge her petite self between the back of Mikie and the back of the chair. From there, it's just a matter of sticking out her butt to knock him off and take over. She may be small, but she is feisty. . .

Eventually, I decided to get Mikie's old desk for Hannah to sit at. And, her big brother was quick to give her crayons. By the time I realized how precariously close to the cream colored walls she and the not-washable crayons were, I didn't have the energy to deal with the hysterics that would ensue when I took them away.

And, so began homework time at the Trahan household. Nibbles sat scribbling on Mikie's Handy Manny coloring book (I know, I should really get her some girly coloring books) while Mikie wrote and colored his assignment. And this is why I am not a teacher. As the photos illustrate, if I have this much trouble keeping two children's attention, 20 such cherubs would surely eat me alive.

Love, The Trahans

My Kids are Killing Me

Mike was out of town for the majority of this week on business, leaving me to take care of myself and two kids. To add insult to injury, it was school vacation this week. AND, I have a ton of projects at work. Plus, Hannah got a bad case of allergies or a head cold (the doctor and I don't agree on this one) which resulted in a mild ear infection.

In spite of everything, I managed to make it to the weekend. Until I woke up this morning. My face and neck were itching like crazy. Realizing I fell asleep without taking any Zyrtec last night, I immediately took some. No help. So I took some Benadryl and a warm shower. Still no help. I then grabbed my supply of a chemical that is naturally found in oat extract, avenanthramide, which is a fabulous topical anti-histamine. I all but washed in it. Still no help.

It was about noon when I realized that this rash was hives, and that I needed to call a doctor. Unfortunately, my doctor's office was closed, and routed me to the on-call doctor, who works for another practice. As I explained what the issue was, my brain was working overtime to think of what I was reacting to. Have I used any new personal care products? Of course, I MAKE them. Have I used any new chemicals I haven't already been exposed to? No. Have I been exposed to penicillin. No. Wait. . . I gave Hannah her antibiotic last night. Did I get any on myself? No, I made sure she didn't spit it out. But, she has kissed me, hugged me, slobbered on me, all those cute things babies do when they love you. . .

Yes, I am having an allergic reaction to my daughter. Twenty-one pounds of cuteness is literally causing me to break out in hives. Doctor's advice: avoid contact with her and have someone else administer the antibiotic. Oh, and go to the ER if my throat starts to close up or I have difficulty breathing.

Well, that shouldn't be an issue. After all, I'm only HER MOTHER!

One day, I'm sure I will look back and laugh at the irony of it all. I love to joke that these kids are "going to be the death of me". In this case, it's true.

Love, the Trahans

The Great Pet Debate

To get a hamster, or not to get a hamster. That is the question. . .

As some of you may know, last summer, we bought Mikie a frog ecosystem as his kindergarten graduation present. He wanted a pet, and we weren't ready to commit to a dog. Mike wanted to get fish again, and, as the person who had to clean the aquarium all the time, I was opposed to that. It isn't that I mind cleaning. If I could put the fish in a different bowl, dump everything out, scrub the scum off, and start over, fish would be fine. But, your supposed to keep the same water, and only replace 25% each time. And, removing 25% of the water required syphoning it into a bucket, since the tank was far from a sink. Inevitably, I would end up spilling some of the fishy water while transporting it around the house to a sink.

I thought a hamster was a logical choice for a pet. After all, it is fuzzy, four-legged, and a mammal, similar to a dog. Yet, it is small and easily contained like fish. And, I had fond memories of having pet hamsters as a kid. Well, minus the fact that they died pretty quickly in our house. But, even their short life expectancy worked with my plan for pet ownership. A hamster will live approximately 3 years. By that point, Mikie will be eight and Hannah will be three. Both will hopefully be potty trained, making me more willing to bring home an animal that is not.

Unfortunately, Mike has some issue with hamsters. He claims he had a pet hamster that escaped from its cage and lived in the walls of their apartment for years (given their short life expectancy, I find it unlikely). And so, pet hamster became pet frogs.The downside of the frog aquarium is that it makes a lot of algae. More than the snail it came with could keep up with. After two snails, we upgraded to a bigger snail from PetSmart. Snaily III over ate (his shell cracked). Snaily IV lived for a while. Then, one day I realized he had been resting for about a week, and the scum was building up again. Snaily V suffered a similar fate recently. Unlike past trips to PetSmart, this time Mikie informed me that he thought we should get a hamster.

And so begins our predicament. Do we get a hamster? Again, I think "yes". He has done a good job caring for the frogs, thanks to a feeding schedule from Auntie Krista. We could discuss the differences between mammals and amphibians, making it educational. This kid was born to have a hamster. After all, his imaginary friend is a mouse.

Mike remains opposed. And, no amout of cajoling (aka whining) on Mikie's part seems to help. So, I beesech our blog readers to weight in: hamster or no hamster? You decide.Love, The Trahans