Merry Christmas

With everything going on in our lives, we were slightly behind the Christmas 8-ball.  Shopping was completed on the 23rd, and involved a few too many after work trips to malls (don't get me started on those excursions).  All wrapping was started and finished on Christmas Eve, and may not have gotten finished in time for the Big Man to drop off gifts if not for my mom.

We did have good intentions about sending a Christmas card.  We took the picture on Thanksgiving Day.  But, I decided the added stress of editing, ordering, receiving, signing, addressing, and mailing forty cards just wasn't in the cards (pardon the pun).  So, we are going "green" (although, if you look at our trash and recycling bins this morning, you may think otherwise) and sending the electronic Christmas card.  And, by "sending" I mean "posting on this blog and Facebook", since I am not sure we have the correct email address for all of our family and friends.

Merry Christmas (or other Holiday celebration)!

Love, the Trahans

What We've Been Doing for the Last Two Months

I like to think I am good at keeping the blog up to date.  I did actually write that last post in September, immediately after going to the Bronx, knowing that we had a lot of activities planned for late September/early October that I would need/want to blog about.

So, I HAD good intentions, which I feel I should earn credit for.

Life has thrown us into a bit of a tailspin since then.  It started when I (really Mike and I) decided that I needed to quit my job.  It is a very long story as to what led to this epiphany, which I won't bore you with.  But, as you could probably tell from my blog posts (or, more accurately, LACK of blog posts), work was having a significant impact on my personal life.

Since that decision was made, I think Mike and I can agree that life has felt a bit like a runaway train that we are just trying to steer in the right direction.  I applied for, and was offered, a job with Living proof. They were in the news recently for signing Jennifer Aniston as an investor and spokesperson for the brand.

Upside to Living proof:  they are an amazing group to work with.  Most of the employees are younger.  Everyone is very collaborative and focused on making the brand a success.  They put a lot of emphasis on product performance, so research and development is very important to them.  They keep a kitchen stocked with fruit and miscellaneous junk food to keep us happy (someone must have researched what makes scientists and engineers happy).  And, I get paid to do what I love:  create new products.  I no longer have to manage people (which wasn't terrible), redo my budget five times or come up with a strategic plan that is needed 24 hours later but which no one listens to (which was agonizing).

Downside to Living proof:  the commute.  The distance is only 38 miles, so 10 miles further than commuting to Crabtree.  But, I am now commuting with traffic towards Boston, instead of going the opposite direction.  So, instead of a 28 mile commute that took 45 minutes, I know have a commute that takes 1 hour and 45 minutes most mornings.  Yuck.

Fortunately, we are now working close to each other.  Not so close that we can commute together, but close enough that we could find a new house more centrally located.

Which brings us to the chaos we are currently entrenched in:  sell this house and buy a new one.  The list of sub tasks associated with this is never ending.  We have a million little things that we needed to fix on this house.  Things that broke while we have been living here or we discovered were wrong since we moved in.  For example:  Mike is replacing one of the french doors to our office because a pane of glass fell out of the original.  In the process of swapping out door A for door B, Mike discovered the contractor didn't hang the door level or plumb.  Which, in hindsight, probably explains why the previous door never latched closed.  So, instead of just hanging a new door, Mike has taken down all of the trim and door jambs (which involved a saws-all at one point because he couldn't just use the crowbar to pry the stupid things out) and re-shimming everything in place correctly.

Then there is the master bathroom shower door.  There is a piece that goes on the bottom of the door to keep it flush with the track and prevents water from getting into the track.  Unfortunately, that piece fell off more than a year ago.  And, the holes for the screws were stripped, so we couldn't just reattach it.  Our solution was just enter and exit through the other door.  But, now we need to fix it.  So, Mike took off the existing shower door two weekends ago, only to find out that the stock shower doors were too tall.  Our size shower stall required a CUSTOM ORDER shower door (of course) which would take two weeks to get in.  So, we've been showering in the kids bathroom every morning, which frequently wakes Hannah, aka The World's Lightest Sleeper.

Add in the purging, packing, and cleaning (see pictures of my immaculate bathroom and pantry below) associated with moving plus decorating and shopping in preparation for Christmas, and it's a little insane here.  Okay, it's a lot insane.  But, we are trying to focus on the positive:  we are both gainfully employed.  We both work for companies that seem appreciative of our efforts.  And, once we get through the selling/buying/moving process, we will improve our quality of life for us and the kids dramatically.

But, the upside for all our family and friends who still read this blog:  I will probably blog a lot more when I am procrastinating to avoid all the home improvement projects.

:-)

Love, The Trahans

A Day in the Bronx

Like every kid, my kids constantly ask when we are going to see "Grandma Pookie and Grand Da" (what they call my parents.  Actually, they also constantly ask about going to visit "Grandma Kerrie and Grumpy (aka Norm)" and "Patrick" (sorry to the twins, but Hannah is smitten with your brother), and a number of other people.  But, we can easily accomodate trips to visit most of Mike's family.  Because my family lives further away, visits require vacation days, long trips in the car (which equals tons of money in gas).  All of which (unfortunately) adds up to less frequent visits.  Definitely the down side of living in Massachusetts. 

So, I was pretty pleased with the solution I came up with last month.  Why not meet in New York for a day trip?  My dad always said I should take the kids to the Bronx Zoo.  It would take us 3 hours to get there; 2 hours for my parents (if they hadn't missed their exit).  Add in the fact that the Zoo had a Lego exhibit, and it seemed like God himself was telling us "Go to the Bronx Zoo". 

As you can see from our slideshow, we all had a great time. I ordered the tickets through AAA, so we got a discount on the full experience, which included admission to the zoo plus unlimited rides and Dora 4D experience. We all enjoyed the Dora experience, Hannah especially, because it felt like it was raining on you (key when it is hot and humid outside).

The only complaint I have was the cost and quality of food. The increased cost you pay when going to a museum + the increased cost you pay when in NYC = EXORBITANTLY overpriced fast food. I paid just under $100 for lunch, much of which was thrown away because the kids wouldn't finish it. Plus the stops at the ice cream vendor, slushy vendor, soft pretzel vendor... Amazingly, the least amount of money we spent was in the gift shop, where Mikie got a stuffed Gorilla to use for his summer book report for $10. Plus Hannah's mugs, we left the gift shop having spent less than $15. That NEVER happens.

Love, The Trahans

Blogging. . . Documenting my Flaws for Posterity

They say you should never post anything on the Internet that you don't want people to find years from now.  Because once it's in cyberspace, who knows what happens to it. 

Thanks to my blog, I realized that I have not documented the birth of my first born child in the last three years.  I will blame this in part on Hannah (because, looking back, she has monopolized blog coverage like everything else in this house) and in part on my job.  And, thanks to the Internet, all of my future grandchildren will know this as well. 

Regardless, I am writing this post with 20 minutes to go before September 6th, 2012.  Eight years ago, I was trying to sleep after eating Tex Mex Spring Rolls from Damons, followed by a Strawberry Fields Salad and Oreo Madness at TGI Fridays (hey, I was pregnant).  But, I was having muscle spasms in my abdomen that kept making me get up and empty my bladder.  Eventually, it dawned on me that these abdominal muscle contractions might mean I was in labor (again, pregnant = loss of brain function).  By 11am, Mike told me we should drive to the hospital, even though I was convinced I was just really constipated.  I didn't let him bring in the hospital bags, I was so convinced I would be discharged.  I mean, what were the odds I would go into labor on Labor Day?

Evidently, pretty good.  Ten hours later and you were born. 

Celebrating your first birthday in Maryland:

Your first BMW, just like Daddy's:

Celebrating your eighth birthday with a sombrero after the Woodstock Fair.  When the owner said you couldn't keep the hat, you asked him to buy you one.  When we told you he got it in Mexico, you said, "Well, can you at least give me the plane tickets?"  Because, clearly, that's the cheaper way out. . .

You may not think we're perfect, in fact, lately, you have a knack for pointing out all of my flaws, in a nonchalant, just-trying-to-help kind of way that isn't supposed to offend me. But, when I see how far you've come, when you amaze me with your reasoning skills, or your compassion for others, I know that, at a minimum, we did one thing perfectly right. We had you. And, I look forward to all the other birthdays we get to share together. Even if I don't blog about them ;-)


Happy Birthday, Trouble!

Love, The Trahans 

Happy Birthday

It is August again.  The end of summer.  The last few days of relative relaxation before my metamorphosis from "Working Mother of Two" to "Mother With Guilt Issues Which Drive Her to Overcompensate for Working" is complete.

With less than four weeks to go until Mikie turns 8, we have started planning the birthday theme.  Theme, you ask?  Isn't the theme, "birthday party"?  No, to the "Working Mother of Two", "birthday party" would be an acceptable theme.  To the guilty-mom, "birthday party" doesn't say "even though I am exhausted and grouchy, I still think about you enough each day to imagine, create, and host an elaborate birthday party."  And, not one.  Because, with the exception of his first birthday, we typically host two birthday parties.  Sometimes more...

But, I digress.  I know everyone is hanging on the edge of their seats to find out what this year's theme is. . .

DC Superheroes

Yes, thanks to Lego, Mikie is obsessed with the DC Superheroes since June.  June 16th to be precise.  The day that Lego Batman II:  DC SuperHeroes came out in stores.  Around the same time, we discovered old Adam West episodes of Batman on MeTV.  We all get a kick out of watching them every Saturday night.  Hannah even runs around saying "Da-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-BATMAN!!".  She wants to be Robin for Halloween to Mikie's Dark Night, in spite of the fact that the men in the family tried to convince her she needed to be "Batgirl" or "Catwoman" because she is a girl. 

Mikie and I have started brainstorming games and activities.  I love brainstorming.  Executing these ideas, not so much.  I think he is expecting my "Guilt-Issues" alter-ego to sew costumes for all of his friends. 

During our brainstorming session, I thought it would be cool to create a comic strip for an invitation.  I was envisioning hours of sketching and drawing (or Photoshop) to get it to look authentic.  Low and behold, Lego has a "Comic Builder" on their website that lets you create your own story boards:

This took me about 15 minutes to put together, excluding five minutes to Photoshop a background color to the second cell (Robin was previously on a white background).  Of course, Mikie's reaction was, "Let's make a WHOLE COMIC BOOK."  To which I responded, "Sure, I'll just quit my job a write and edit stories all day."  If only that paid the bills. . .

That said, I do want to call attention to another special birthday.  Lego is turning 80.  I know our families think we are harboring an unhealthy obsession with Legos in our house.  Mikie's room is just short of a shrine to the small plastic bricks.  But, as a household with two engineers (possibly three), I can't help but appreciate this company.  First, you should see their factory.  I have not been in person, but StumbledUpon (literally) a tour of the LEGO factory on Gizmodo.  It is a manufacturing dream. 

Second, their quality is impeccable.  I live in New England, home of Hasbro, who gives a lot back to the community.  So, I hate to knock MegaBlocks.  But, if you buy a set of MegaBlocks versus a set of Legos, you can see first hand the difference in standards.  A Lego is rigid.  It is indestructible.  Heck, Google "Lego building repair" or click here, and you can find actual buildings where people have filled in missing brick work (the red masonry kind) with Lego bricks.  

A MegaBlock is more "plastic".  Yeah, I know, they are both MADE of plastic.  But, a MegaBlock is malleable.  We have had issues where the pieces won't lock together because the holes are ever so slightly smaller than the "bumps" on top of the bricks. 

Third is customer service.  Since purchasing the Death Star, we now have a few Darth Vaders.  But, prior to that, we had one.  One Vader, with one light saber, and one helmet.  Do you know how quickly Mikie lost that helmet and light saber?  And, you can't put another light saber with Darth Vader.  It must be red, because he is a bad Jedi (duh, Mom).  I went to the Lego store, fully expecting that I would have to buy another set with another Darth Vader to get a new helmet and light saber.  But, the sales girl told me, "just call customer service with the model number of the set you bought, and they will send you a replacement free."  Seriously.  I mean, do you know what mini-figs sell for on eBay?  That girl just saved me at least $20. 

Lastly, the part of my brain that must have been a Brand Manager in a former life thinks their marketing group is amazing.  Case in point:  the Lego MBA program.  It is a subscription program (just like a magazine) where you get a new Lego kit sent to your house every other month.  Each kit comes with some new Lego bricks, a book that shows you how to make three different designs from those bricks, along with giving you hints and building techniques from their "Master Builders" (engineer with the cool job of playing with Legos all day long).  At the end of each book is special Lego graph paper to help you use what you learned to create your own designs.  And, they have a special website where kids can upload and share their designs. 

In honor of their birthday, Lego published an animated short documenting the history of the brand.  It was featured in a trend site I subscribe to at work, and greeted me in my inbox at work this morning.  I found it fascinating.  Did you know that Lego originally made wooden toys?  Or how they got their name?  I'm sharing it, because, like everything else they seem to do, I think it has a great message.  Of entrepreneurship, innovation, quality, ethics.  Values I try to bring to my own work, appreciate in others, and hope to instill in my children. 

So, tonight, this mom says "Happy Birthday, Lego."

Tomorrow, my guilt-ridden alter-ego will continue to fret over Mikie's birthday. 

Love, The Trahans (who, sadly, do not monetarily profit from the sale of Legos)

Public Indecency

WARNING:  This post is not for the faint of heart.  Or incontinent, as it will probably make you pee when you laugh at my humiliation. . .

I should start this post on a positive note.  Hannah is potty trained.  Or, as potty trained as one can expect from a three year old.  We have done away with Pull-ups, except for at night.  We also wear regular underpants (complete with Dora and/or Disney Princesses).  Of course, her ability to hold her bladder and successfully pee in the toilet came immediately following my pricey purchase of SuperUndies.  So, if anyone is struggling with potty training their toddler, I would be happy to sell mine at a discounted price.  I think she used one pair before deciding that she didn't not like wearing them.  At the end of the day, I guess they did their job.

In spite of the fact that she is potty trained, my potty related incidents have not waned.

STORY #1:  The Vagina Dialogue

Currently, Hannah and I commute 1 hour to and from daycare each day.  Naturally, I don't trust her to hold her bladder, so I strongly encourage her to use the potty before we leave the house and daycare.  Of course, anyone who knows Hannah knows that trying to strongly encourage her to do anything is like repeatedly banging your head against a brick wall in hopes that it will crumble.  99% of the time, you will be unsuccessful.  Obviously, if she doesn't go before we leave, she usually ends up yelling at me along the way that she has to pee.

With Mikie, we could easily pull over onto the shoulder or side street and "water the plants".  With Hannah, this isn't an option (although, admittedly I did try once, but she ended up standing on the side of the road, butt naked, watching her brother pee for encouragement, to no avail).  So, on days when she has to pee, we ended up stopping at McDonald's.

Now, with Mikie, I was a stickler for using anatomically correct terms for his body parts.  So, naturally, we followed the same philosophy with Hannah.  Unfortunately, Hannah is much more vocal about her body than Mikie was.  If you happen to be outside of Hannah's stall, you will often hear her announce, "Mom, you and me are girls.  We have vaginas."  Occasionally, I hear stifled giggles from outside the stall as I tell Hannah, "Yes, but it isn't polite to talk about our vaginas."

Then comes the McDonald's experience.  We stopped on our way home to pee.  I took Hannah into the bathroom.  We took the one, unoccupied stall.  Hannah sits down to do her business, and asks me for help wiping.  I grab some of the single ply toilet paper and help pat her dry.  At this point, she starts screaming at me, "STOP, MOM, YOU HURT MY VAGINA!"

Needless to say, this time, no one was giggling.  I panicked, thinking surely, someone was calling 911 to report that I was abusing my daughter in the McDonald's restroom.  I started to defend myself to the faceless occupant of the other stall, by announcing, "No, I'm not hurting you, I'm just trying to help you" and, "I'm sorry that McDonald's doesn't buy Charmin Extra Soft."

We quickly left, called my sister, to make sure her husband, the attorney, was on notice should I need legal council, and vowed to never return to that McDonald's.

STORY #2:  Lady Godiva

Last week, the kids and I came home early to meet with an HVAC specialist to service our central air conditioning unit.  Hannah, insistent on having her "privacy" left to use the bathroom while the technician, Steve, went over some paperwork with me.  I wasn't paying much attention when she came out, making a mental note to clean out her potty when Steve left.  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Hannah, standing on the other side of Steve, attempting to take her shirt off.  As I round the table, trying to stop her, I realize that she is naked from the waist down.  Horror stricken, I tell her to go back into the bathroom and put on her underpants and shorts.  Steve chuckled and, taking pity on me, recanted some story about a mother of five who had a little boy running around naked when he came.

As mentioned above, Hannah doesn't take well to being told what to do.  So, she marched back to the bathroom, only to return, seconds later, completely naked, laughing at me as she streaked by yelling, "I NAKED!"

At this point, I hurriedly signed all papers in an effort to get Steve to leave so that I could beat. . . I mean DRESS my child without witnesses.

STORY #3:  Lady Godiva's Revenge

A few days following our HVAC experience, the kids and I returned home from work/camp/daycare.  Mikie, exhausted from a day full of soccer and swimming, had passed out in the car.  I intentionally left the door into the garage ajar, in case he woke up while Hannah and I unpacked the car.  While I made multiple trips in and out, Hannah followed me, yelling about wanting to take a bath.  Suddenly, I realized that it was quiet.  I turned around and realized that there was no sign of Hannah.  Assuming (what I thought was the worst) that she had run outside into the street, I quickly ran back into the garage.  Again, no sign of Hannah. Stepping out onto the driveway, there is my daughter, naked as the day she was born, calling to the people in the cul de sac.

Why must there always be people around to witness these embarrassing moments?

Hopefully, my stories of public indecency and humiliation will brighten someone's day.

Love, The Trahans

Procrastination

If I still have any readers out there, you (like my father) have probably been complaining about my lapse in posts.  Unlike my father, you probably haven't taken the time to call me and complain.  For that I thank you. 

So, what worthy cause eats up my time to the point of not posting to my blog?  I would love to say that I have been traveling the world to exotic locations and any time I am at home is spent relaxing with my loving and devoted children.  Alas, that is only true in my wildest dreams.  Which, are few and far between.  My days continue to be filled with a mad dash out of the house, 1 hour drive to work, 8 hours of actual work, typically consumed by meetings that prevent me from, well, working, a 1 hour commute to pick both kids up from daycares in two different states by the magic hour of 6pm (at which point they might turn into pumpkins), fending for dinner, supervising homework, putting the kids to bed, followed by more endless hours of work.  Mike's schedule is similar, but with a longer commute and less exposure to kids.  At some point in our endless hours of work, one or both of us realizes it is close to midnight, turns off their laptop, forces the other to do the same, and we both fall into bed to catch several hours of sleep before waking up and repeating.  My sleep is dreamless; I suspect Mike dreams about work because he occasionally has conversations with himself that involve the words "AutoCad", "Matlab", or some acronym that is meaningless to me. 

Needless to say we both look forward to the weekend.  Unfortunately, those two days are the only days our kids wake up of their own accord.  Figures.  And, our "free time" is consumed by our children's social calendars, yard work, house work, or any other tasks that we should have completed during the week if we did anything other than work. A sorry existence to be sure.

Since my last two weeks have been consumed with travel (to such exotic locales as Edison, NJ) and production issues, leaving me with little time in the office, it seemed like as good a time as any to procrastinate.  So, if you are still awake, I present the Updates on Trouble & Super Nibbles:

TROUBLE:

Mikie continues to enjoy most of school.  By most, I mean math.  And, one could argue he loves that because his mind seems to compute the answers with little effort.  He is that kid you have to remind to "show your work".  Try explaining "partial credit" to a 7 year old.  Not easy.  Spelling on the other hand is the bane of both of our existences.  Not mine so much, because I rocked spelling as a kid (if they didn't allow bonsai in the spelling bee, I know I would have won).  But, since we have to help him study, I hate it as much as he does.  In a moment of desperation, I made a deal with him a few months ago that if he got a 95 or above on his spelling test that week, I would buy him a new Lego set.  Miraculously, he managed to study and ace his spelling test.  Lego is going to need to start coming out with more sets and we may start building an edition to the house out of Lego bricks to house all of the Legos we own, but it seems to motivate Mikie to study.  Additionally, I will have to clone myself to take on a second job at the Lego store so that I can use my employee discount and supplemental paycheck to finance his addiction. 

Also, being 7, Mikie has become quite the smart ass.  For example, if I tell him to put his shoes on in the morning, he will refuse to do so because I "didn't say 'please'."  Between him and Hannah, I find myself frequently saying, "I am your Mother.  I don't need a reason why.  When I tell you to do something, you just do it!"  I stop just short of saying, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it."  Mike frequently accuses me of overreacting.  I accuse him of spending too little time with our "cherubs". 

Other than Math and Legos, Mikie is equally interested in Science.  He has NO trouble remembering the most minute facts about whatever they are studying:  penguins, the earth, the planets.  You bring up a topic, Mikie will have a random fact to regale you with.  Sometimes I feel like his is Rainman.  If only his sense of recall would apply to spelling, my life would be so much easier. 

He also enjoys research.  Being in second grade, he has had to do a number of projects throughout the year.  He read a biography on Thomas Jefferson and had to make a timeline of seven major events in his life, complete with illustrations.  For the kid whose daily drawings are typically monochromatic, faceless stick figures, I was shocked to see how much detail he put into this project.  Evidently, my logic driven child only likes to draw if he feels there is a point to doing so.  The facts and images make me laugh, so I am putting up a slideshow of them here. 

If all else fails, we are considering a modeling career for Mikie.  My cousin's girlfriend, Emily, is finishing her senior year at Parson's School of Design.  For her senior thesis, she designed a line of children's clothing and asked Mikie to model it for her portfolio.  As you will see, the clothes were way more fashion forward then anything Mikie typically wears (Mikie wardrobe consisting solely of "fuzzy" sweatpants and amusing t-shirts, as evidenced by his spring school picture).  However, he had a good time, and Emily managed to get a lot of great pictures that captured his personality.  At least, Mike and I love them.  Hopefully Emily and whatever faculty/prospective employers who see her portfolio like them as well. 

SUPER NIBBLES:

Hannah has not changed at all.  Okay, she has changed a bit:  she has become more vocal and less "bashful" at least when it comes to verbally abusing me.  She typically refrained from doing so in front of witnesses.  Now, if she's mad, she is happy to share it with the world.  This earns me combined looks of sympathy, pity, annoyance, from others depending on where we are.  Most people find her "cute" and her meltdowns "amusing".  But, that is because they don't live with her.  Mikie can often be seen covering his ears in a futile effort to block out her yelling.  He has also started looking for opportunities to leave her places.  The last time we were at the chiropractors, she was playing in the playroom and he whispered to me, "If we leave now, she might not notice."  The only one she treats with a modicum of respect is Mike.  And, again, I'm convinced that's because he's not around as much Monday through Friday.  On the weekends, even "Daddy" has thrown her in time-out. 

In spite of her bossy attitude, she seems to get along well with others.  She walks into daycare every morning with a smirk on her face like she runs the place.  And, some days, I half wonder if she does.  She moved up to the three-year old room at the end of January.  But, she didn't seem to like the transition, or the teacher.  After a couple weeks straight of hysterics requiring teachers to surgically remove her from my leg (yes, she IS a drama queen), we realized that she liked Mr. Jay, the teacher in the preschool.  So, in an effort to save my sanity, as well as Ms. Danielle, the three-year old teacher, the owner moved her up to the preschool.  She has been much happier, seems to get along well with the kids.  I don't know if the influence of older kids has been positive or not.  She is equally demanding.  And, she now wants to do everything Mikie does because she says, "I a BIG kid."  With a nod of her head for special emphasis.  Back-up care caved just as quickly when I went out of town earlier this month.  No sooner had Mike dropped her off than she insisted she needed to be in a "different room".  So, they moved her.  God help us when she gets into the real world and realizes that she can't always get what she wants. 

Mike tries to remind me that she isn't all terror.  She is exceedingly cute, which is her saving grace.  She is using the potty consistently now, wearing Pull-ups at bedtime only.  She has even managed to survive the 1 hour commutes every morning and evening without flooding her carseat (I say as I knock on wood).  She likes to sing and dance.  And, she is extremely patriotic.  She recites the Pledge of Allegiance multiple times a day.  Her inflection coupled with her wicked Massachusetts accent make it the cutest thing you will ever hear.

Unlike her big brother, who would probably spend all day in front of a TV/computer/video game if left to his own devices, Hannah would prefer to spend all day outside.  Our lawn maintenance (or lack there of) often impedes her doing so.  But, she loves to ride her bike or scooter around the cul-de-sac with other kids in the neighborhood.

That gives a good overview of the Trahans over the last five months.  I will try and fill in with more detailed annecdotes.  Hopefully, in less than five months time ;-)

Love, The Trahans

New Year, New Logo

2012. . . I don't delude myself into thinking that I will keep any New Year's resolutions, so, for the last few years, I haven't even bothered making any.  Sure, I try to be a better person.  But, I try that on a daily basis.  And, typically, I fail.  So, I don't need the added pressure of a New Year's resolution hanging over my head.  Lord knows I have enough stress in my life. 

But, it IS a new year.  And, change is nice.  I have been thinking about updating the layout of the blog for a while now.  I experimented with Blogger's dynamic views (which is very cool).  But, I vetoed the dynamic views because it required updating to a newer version of Internet Explorer or using Google Chrome.  And, unlike Google and Bill Gates, I don't feel the need to impose software upgrades on my readers.  I looked at different templates and backgrounds, but really didn't like any of them.  So, I decided to start designing my own. 

First on the blog redesign:  an official logo.  I needed something that said "superhero", but also represented the personalities of my children.  And, I didn't want to use their pictures. . . I wanted it to be cartoon-like. 

One whiny superheroine

So, Mike and I created South Park characters of our children on SP-Studio.  I am 99% positive that we are the only parents who have turned their children into South Park characters.  But, there was something cathartic to pick out the scrunched up eyes and wailing face for Hannah (my chronic whiner).  I highly recommend checking out this site.  I may go back and create South Park characters of other people who drive me crazy. 

Unfortunately, there were limits to the customization of your character.  Enter Photoshop.  I created "badges" for both our superheroes, scaled down Super Nibbles relative to Trouble, added the star, color matched the background to the blog, and added the text.  And, voila, our new super banner!

Knowing that my vacation ends at 5:45am, I probably shouldn't have spent 3 hours creating a new banner for the blog.  But, I LOVE it, and hope it will make everyone else laugh too.  If I ever get around to converting my blog into a book (my consolation prize to my kids, since I have neglected their scrapbooks), it will make an AWESOME cover. 

Happy New Year.

Love, The Trahans

Shout Out

Like many, I have a blog roll on the side of my blog.  To be honest, I added it to make it easier for me to follow all of my friend's blogs.  And, while I know some of my friends and family check out the other blogs listed, I'm sure most don't pay much attention.  But, today I am listing a podcast that you should definitely follow. . .

I have to admit, as technically savvy as I like to think I am, I am not.  We joined Netflix 30 days before they raised their rates and separated the streaming service from mail-in.  I figured out what Pandora was about three months ago (although, arguably, I probably don't know how to use it effectively).  I am not on Twitter.  I don't regularly look for and download apps.  Hell, I have tagged 76 songs with "Shazam", many of which I intend to download, but still haven't.  I know of podcasts, only because I was looking for ways to upload audio to Blogger one day and "get an account for a podcast" came up as the general solution.  I quit shortly thereafter because reading about how to start a podcast seemed too much for my overworked, overtired brain.

That said, my friend, Matt Owens, and his brothers, John and Mark, started a podcast entitled EngineeringFatherhood.  And, when Matt updated his Facebook status to say "The three Owens brothers have started a podcast about fatherhood. The latest episode is about our adventures in potty training our kids. Check it out if you get a chance."

Well, he had me at "potty training".  If you've read my post a few months ago (see I Missed My Calling In Life) or heard me argue with Hannah that "big girls pee in the potty", you know that I am willing to try ANYTHING to reduce our reliance on Pull-Ups.  Armed with my iPhone 4, I easily downloaded episode 4.  And, low and behold, what I found was a very entertaining, hour-long radio show. 

Okay, I know, you can't call it a "radio show" because it's not on the radio.  But, I don't know how else to describe it. EngineeringFatherhood reminds me of Garrison Keillor crossed with Cheers.  It's three brothers talking about anything/everything over a beer.  It's scripted in that they have a topic (or three, thanks to their new "random topic" format), but the comments are unscripted, uncensored, and very entertaining.  Okay, maybe it's more like Cheers.  But John's soft spoken, laid back attitude and Matt's insistence on playing folksie music for the intro does remind me of listening to Garrison Keillor with my mom as a kid. 

All in all, I highly recommend the EngineeringFatherhood podcast.  If you are on iTunes, you can search and download it for free.  Or, you can listen by going to their website by clicking here. 

I hope for the sake of Matt, Mark, and John, my little-read blog increases the number of listeners above 10. 

Love, The Trahans

Parents Say the Darndest Things

Typically, my blog posts are littered with entertaining comments that my kids say.  Tonight's post is a little different. . .

Lately, Hannah has not been sleeping well.  She claims to be afraid of the dark.  But, I think it is safe to say that she is afraid of being alone.  You could put her to bed in her room with all the lights on and she will still wake up.  I know this to be true, because I changed the bulb in her night light to a 40 watt bulb, up from 15 watts.  And, when she does, she won't go back to sleep in her own bed.  Even if you succeed in getting her back to sleep in it, she will wake up again.  Bring her into a bedroom with other people?  Miraculously, she can sleep without any lights on.

In desperation, I let her sleep in Mikie's lower bunk.  Long term, I know this is not a solution.  Mikie is 7 and I'm sure he will soon be sick of having a roommate.  But, until we can make Hannah's room cool enough to overcome whatever phobia she has, it has been one big sleepover in Mikie's room.

While cohabiting makes the bedtime routine much more streamlined, Hannah has figured out a new way to prolong putting her head on the pillow.  The drink of water.  You could give her a drink of water one minute, and, the minute you put your hand on the doorknob to leave, she is insistent that she needs another drink.

This evening was no different.  However, after a long day at work, my patience was a lot thinner.  By the third request, Hannah received a Dixie Cup with the caveat, "I don't care if you die of thirst, this is the LAST cup of water you are getting tonight."  To which she responded with one of her famous, "O-kay", like I am the most unreasonable person on the planet earth.

I reached the door, I turned, told them both "Goodnight", "I love you" and "Get a good night's sleep" as per my usual routine.  As I walked back down the stairs, Mike laughed saying, "I don't care if you die of thirst?  I love you? Nice mother."  

Clearly, the nun's who threatened me with starving kids in third world countries had a big impact on me. . . 

Love, The Trahans 

Project Runway: Halloween Edition

Since Mikie was three, he has enjoyed Halloween "themes".  The most memorable was the Star Wars theme. . .

This year, Mikie had a very specific idea.  He wanted to be the flying pig from Seasonal Angry Birds, Valentine's Day.  And, Hannah could be the Red Angry Bird.  Since Hannah ALWAYS wants to play Angry Birds (because Mike and Mikie play Angry Birds and she wants to do whatever her buddy does), she thought this was a great idea.  Unfortunately, the Angry Birds themed costumes on the internet had a few problems:  (1) they looked lame and (2) they were sold out everywhere.  Which forced me to break out the Singer and sew some.

The statement "I didn't know you could sew" has come up frequently since I started costume construction.  Yes, I can sew.  You won't see me making my own clothes anytime soon, but I know how to thread a machine.  The bigger challenge was designing the costumes.  There weren't any "Angry Birds" patterns on the internet either, so I had to come up with something myself. 

Hannah's was inspired in combination by a picture I found on the internet from another mom who made Angry Bird costumes last year and a bubble dress I bought her for Christmas last year.  I cut a pattern for the lining by tracing a sun dress she had.  I then made a pattern with an identical top, but increased the length by 3 inches.  I added to the width as well since I was going to stuff it.  I added an extra half inch on all sides for seam allowances.  It was fairly straight forward once I had the patterns.  And, thanks to the numerous Angry Birds stuffed animals Mikie has, I scaled up the features using calculator, compass, protractor, etc. so that I could nail the features. 

Mikie's was far more complicated.  His was inspired by. . . a beach ball.  My intention was to make six petal shaped panels which, when sewn together, formed a ball.  The challenge was making a pattern for one of the petals.  But, I am an engineer who dual majored (for most of college) in mathematics.  Mikie and I measured the distance from his collar bone to a point on his upper thigh (2 ft) to determine the diameter of our pig.  From their, I calculated 1/6th of the circumference (which was easily calculated as pi*diameter) to determine the width of the petal at the widest point.  And, 1/2 the circumference for the length.  If I was artistic, I probably could have free-handed the shape from those four points.  Instead, I did a lot more complex math with a lot of interpolation between points.  Until I had my petal pattern.  Six sewn together gave me a nice sphere.  A column with arm holes through the center of my sphere for Mikie's body and some padding in between the column/lining and the exterior sphere and (ta da) I give you the Angry Pig.

Throughout, my supportive husband had to mock me with comments like, "You don't see them doing MATH on Project Runway."  Well, take a memo designers.  Maybe a little more math up front would prevent last minute adjustments. 

While the kids did not win the costume contest at our community center (Hannah lost to a store bought Minnie Mouse and Mikie lost to a store bought Pac-Man), they got a lot of compliments.  One mother asked me if she could pay me to make the same costumes for her kids next year. 

So, I can now rest assured that, if I ever need a career change, I can take up costume design.

Happy (belated) Halloween.

Love, The Trahans

Halloween 2011: When Hell Froze Over

There were a lot of appropriate titles for this post. . . White Halloween, Christmas in October, Trahan's Freezing by an Open Fire.  Yes, Halloween 2011:  the year it snowed.

Let's just say, when the weathermen are calling for 8-12 inches that could take down trees, the one thing you should never say is, "We've NEVER lost power for an extended period of time here."  It is like daring Mother Nature. 

Sure enough, on Saturday afternoon, my parents, Mike, the kids and I are snuggling in the family room, watching movies while waiting for the lasagna to finish cooking, occasionally watching the snow fall, and the power goes out. 

That first night, it was fun.  Like camping, but without the bugs.  Thankfully, the lasagna was 15 minutes from being done, so we kept the oven closed to let the heat finish cooking it.  We lit enough candles to forever imprint the smell of Crabtree & Evelyn on our house.  We toasted marshmallows over the candles, and read stories together before putting the kids to bed.  Hannah slept with Grandma Pookie (because she was scared of the dark and, her room is like an ice box when the heat IS on); Mikie moved his air mattress into our bedroom (long story why he was sleeping on an air mattress in his room. . . he said it made him cough less).  Not used to going to sleep at 9pm, Mike and I streamed episodes of "The Office" from Netflix on his phone. 

So ended Saturday.  When we woke up to a world of white, still without power, we were still optimistic.  After Mike shoveled snow from the top of the driveway, we headed out in search of coffee and donuts, since the kids (specifically Mikie) didn't like any of the breakfast options that could be made without electricity.  Then reality started to set in.  Driving down the main road out to the highway, we couldn't believe the number of trees that were down.  And, not young trees.  Mature trees.  And, when I say mature, I mean REALLY OLD TREES.  The adjacent town just celebrated it's third centennial recently.  There is a house that John Adams stayed at less than a mile from our home.  Really old trees were down left and right along the road, allowing one zig-zagging lane of traffic to progress.  Provided you didn't care about your paint job.  One poor tree was clearly holding on for dear life, it's root system rising out of the ground on the right side of the road while its branches curved across, touching on the left side, forming a tunnel.  The picture below was taken walking distance from our development:

Since life in our town was canceled, we spent the day in Rhode Island with the in-laws, who were spared the majority of the storm's wrath.  We checked in with National Grid frequently, only to hear "due to the severity of the outage in your area, we are still assessing the damage to determine a time to restore power." 

Sunday evening left us in need of a good laugh.  So, Mike put his brand new work laptop with fully charged battery to good use:  we had a "BYOB" (bring your own blanket) party in the family room to watch "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation". 

Halloween morning truly was a horror.  The temperature in the house dropped to 54 degrees.  Thanks to extra firewood we had from summer campfires, and a lot of paper we wanted to shred, we succeeded in lighting a fire in the fireplace without "kindling".  That kept the house at 54 degrees through lunch time, when we all decided to abandon house.  Trick-or-treating was canceled.  My parents had headed south, with my dad promising to return with a generator if we didn't have power still by the end of the week.  After packing all the clean clothes we could find, plus Rhino (our guinea pig), we headed to McDonald's.  Armed with my dad's AAA guide, I called every hotel in a 40 mile radius, with no luck.  Every hotel was either without power or without vacancies.  I was starting to appreciate what the Holy Family went through that first Christmas.  Mike, armed with the Raytheon travel agent, succeeded in landing us one night in a hotel in Burlington, Massachusetts. 

After driving 90 minutes with two kids and a pet, and smuggling Rhino into the hotel, things started to look up.  First, we were warm.  Second, the Burlington Mall is home to one of the only Chick-Fil-A's in Massachusetts.  So, we got to enjoy one of our favorite fast food chains for dinner, something we haven't eaten since my sister got married over a year ago.  Third, we took the kids to see "Puss in Boots", which was excellent.  Lastly, and most importantly, we got a text message from our neighbor that the power came back on. 

A few days later, power was restored to Hannah's daycare, completing the return to normalcy from a routine standpoint.  Over a week later, we still have snow in the yard.  Mike removed the oak tree limb from our shed, only to find a nice big hole in the roof for us to repair before the next big snowstorm.  And, we have one damaged ornamental pear tree, one severely damaged dogwood tree, and an unknown tree/shrub that hurricane Irene knocked over to still remove.  At this rate, I'm praying for more snow to cover our front yard and make it look "pretty" again. 

I do want to thank some people:  first, thanks to my parents for suffering through with us as long as they did. I don't think we could have kept the kids entertained as long as we did without you.  Second, thanks to Mike's family for letting us prey on their utilities and hospitality by feeding, bathing, and entertaining us for the day on Sunday.  Lastly, I would like to thank all of the line workers from North Carolina and Michigan who we saw working tirelessly alongside National Grid to restore our power as quickly as they did.  Knowing many people in Connecticut who are still without power, we were very lucky. 

But, all things considered, you will never hear me say "we NEVER ________" ever again. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Bucket List

June 15th, 2011.  The Boston Bruins beat the Vancouver Canucks in game 7 to win the Stanley Cup. . . bringing the Stanley Cup back to Boston after 39 years. . . bringing the Stanley Cup to New England for the first time in my husband's life.

I knew that Mike was a huge hockey fan since the moment I met him.  I grew up in Philadelphia and watched Philly sports teams, including the Flyers.  And, with the exception of the Phillies in 2008, Philly teams ALWAYS screw up.  So, I was not a huge fan of anything.  I joked that when I married Mike, I became a Boston fan by marriage.  When we decided to move to New England, I will never forget the day Mike called me from a business trip in Massachusetts:

Mike:  "Guess what I'm listening to."

Me:  "I have no idea. . ."

Mike:  "The Red Sox game.  And, guess what I watched last night."

Me:  "The Red Sox game?"

Mike:  "YES!  They cover EVERY GAME here.  We will never miss a game again!"

This is problematic at certain times of the year.  When the Celtics and Bruins are both playing, I have no chance of watching TV, because one game is on the picture-in-picture and we toggle back and forth during commercial breaks.

So, I shouldn't have been surprised when Mike announced he was going to see the Stanley Cup.  But, after a failed attempt to go to the celebratory parade (thank you MTA), I didn't think this was going to be likely.

And the moral of the story is, "Never underestimate the devotion of a Boston sports fan."  Mike downloaded an app for his iPhone "wherestheCup" so that he could track where the cup would be at all times.  There were a few times when he called me to tell me he would be home late because the cup was going to be in insert Boston suburb here and he was going to track it down.  Sounds simple, but this app didn't post "The Cup is at TGI Friday's on Main Street in Southbridge."  It would post "The Cup will be in Worcester."  It would be easier to find a needle in a haystack.  I suggested camping out by the International Terminal at Logan Airport waiting for the Cup to enter and exit the country with players might have greater odds of success.  But, what do I know. . .

Mike, kissing THE holy grail.

In the end, Mike succeeded.  He found an IT company who was holding an all day seminar (aka sales pitch) where the Cup would be on display for pictures with attendees.  So, with no need for IT software, Mike signed up for the experience of a lifetime. . .

He left after lunch, after the Cup was wheeled off in a golf cart, missing the second-half of the seminar.  I asked what the company did (IT being a very broad term in my opinion) and he couldn't even tell me.  He wasn't the only one.  The guy he met who sent us these pictures (Mike having forgotten to bring a camera other than the one on his phone) was a manager at Walgreens.

Mike with hockey's coveted trophies

I included a picture of the "American Express Guy", as Mike refers to him.  If you watch hockey, American Express (official sponsor of the NHL) has great commercials with the guy in white gloves responsible for the Stanley Cup at all times being swarmed by kids and adults alike.  Mike was amused to see the guy from the commercials in real life.  While we knew there really was a guy in white gloves, I guess he figured the one on the commercial was an actor.

Long story short, Mike can officially cross "Kiss the Stanley Cup" off his bucket list.  Which means the pressure is no longer on Mikie to (1) play hockey professionally and (2) win the Stanley Cup.  

Go Bruins!

Love, The Trahans

My Son the Charmer

Mikie has always been very affectionate and considerate. But, this evening, he made most men look bad. While I was wrestling Hannah into her carseat, he started singing:

"When I see your face
There's not a thing that I would change
'Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are
And when you smile
The whole world stops and stares for a while
Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are"

Yes, the lyrics to Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are".

And when I teased Mike that Mikie was making him look bad, Mikie told him to repeat after him and got Mike to sing to me. After which, he said "Good job, Dad. See, you can sing almost as good as me."

Considerate AND humble.

Love, The Trahans

Hello, Al Gore Calling

Since she was old enough to stand, Hannah has been wasting water. She likes to flush the toilet, even if she didn't make a deposit. And, if she does, she feels compelled to flush more than once. She will wash her hands repeatedly just so she can splash in the water. And, my least favorite, she will request a cup of water, take a sip, dump the rest, only to request more immediately after.

So began my running joke: every time Hannah does something to waste water, energy or generally waste natural resources, I joke that Al Gore called.

On Monday, Mikie was reading his summer reading to Mike and I. When he finished, I remembered that the principal had called earlier to invite us (and all incoming second graders) to an open house. After praising him for doing such a good job with his reading, I said, "I almost forgot, do you know who called earlier?" To which Mikie responded, without skipping a beat, "Al Gore?"

Even funnier since I don't think Mikie could pick Al Gore out of a line-up.

Love, The Trahans

I Missed My Calling in Life

Throughout my life, I frequently find myself complaining about all the things I should be doing that are making someone a small fortune. My big complaint tends to surround personal care products (obviously) because I DO make them for a living, just for someone else. And, then I get catalogs for places like The Skin Store, and see other niche brands making a fortune. I'm not saying they don't work. I'm just saying I know what the raw material cost is, and, even if you put straight peptide in a bottle, it isn't costing these brands the $150/oz they are selling it for. . .

My favorite example is Sarah Happ's Lip Scrub. Now found available for purchase in Sephora, Sarah Happ started as a 20 something post-college student living in California with dry lips. So, she whipped up her famous lip scrub and started selling it to spas in stock jars wrapped in upscale little truffle boxes. The original "secret formula" consists of a whopping three ingredients: Vaseline, sugar, and (originally) vanilla extract for flavor. But, some people (including many celebrities) are willing to pay $25 for less than an ounce of lip scrub that they could make a lifetime supply of for half the price. sigh.

As I beginning potty training child #2, my new complaint is "Potty Trainers". Yeah, "Potty Trainers" is the word used by most websites to describe anything that isn't a disposable diaper or thin cotton underpants. Typically, it has multiple layers of fabric to provide some absorption, but may or may not include a waterproof layer (either vinyl exterior or concealed between cute layers of cotton) to prevent leaks.

With Mikie, potty training was a necessity. We had him in Huggies Pull-Ups, but the kid was too big. The largest Pull-Up allowed no circulation, leading to frequent diaper rashes. And, because Mikie was prone to croup, he was frequently on antibiotics or steroids, which made him more susceptible to yeast infections. So, we got rid of the Pull-Ups in favor of underwear and a lot of changes of clothes. Since Mikie always seemed to attract dirt, I didn't notice that I was doing to many extra loads of laundry. Instead of changing him because he got food all over himself, we would change him because he peed through his clothes so, net, I was doing the same amount of laundry.

There were two reasons why potty training Mikie was easier than Hannah. Reason #1: he could hold his bladder all night from a very early age. He may also have gone to bed later than Hannah and woken up earlier (because he has boundless amounts of energy), but either way, Mikie woke up dry. And, when you wake up dry, you inevitably have a full bladder. So, if you force your kid to sit (or stand) in front of the toilet and wait long enough, eventually, pee will end up in the toilet. Hannah has not yet reached this stage. And, unlike her brother, Hannah is an absolute grouch in the morning. Even if she is dry when she gets up, she throws a fit if I sit her on a toilet.

Reason #2: Mikie is a boy. So, while both kids commute to the same daycare 45 - 60 minutes from our house, if Mikie realized along the way that he had to pee, we could pull over and do so. Granted, this is often challenging (in the winter when there is no shoulder to pull over on) or leads to embarrassment on behalf of mom (when we pee in parking lots because he can't make it into a store). But, at least he was making the connection "I have to pee" and actually doing so somewhere other than his carseat.

Hannah isn't built to pee anywhere she wants. And, for fear that she will empty her bladder during our commute, resulting in a wet, smelly car seat that "cooks" in my car during the 8 hours I am at work, I usually put her in the good old Huggie's Pull-Ups every morning.

The problem with wearing underwear at school and Pull-Ups in the car, at home, etc. is a lack of consistency. In this case, it means that Hannah isn't learning to use the potty. Sure, she uses the potty. But, only when she wants to use the potty. Specifically, when she is at school and all of her friends are using the potty, when we are out and Mike or I go to use the bathroom, or when we are at Friendly's. (I bet you didn't know how cool the bathroom at Friendly's is?) And, the "Cool Alert" Pull-Ups that I use (they undergo an endothermic reaction when you pee, helping the child associate a negative sensation with peeing in a diaper) are impossible to find in stores in large quantity. And, while it is cheaper to buy online, it isn't convenient when daycare informs you at 5pm that they ran out of Pull-Ups at noon and you have to wait 48 hours for your order to arrive.

Hence why I began researching "Potty Trainers". My biggest pet peeve is that no "Potty Trainer" is created equally. I can't just decide, Gerber is cheapest (3 pairs for $11), so I will buy Gerber. Because, Gerber is not absorbent at all, leading to a lot of pee on my carpet and hard wood floors (and, potentially, that wet, smelly carseat). Bambino Mio ($10/pair) and Blueberry ($16/pair) are cute but look like they function no better than Gerber. So, why spend the extra money? SuperUndies look like a great solution from the standpoint of leak protection. But, "you get what you pay for seems to be the company motto", since the SuperUndies are $20/pair. Yes, all brands are washable and reusable, and seemingly cheaper long term than Pull-Ups. But, if they get wet, they still need to be changed. So, at a minimum, I need 6 pairs, or I am going to be washing training pants every night to use again the next day. And, ultimately, she will outgrow them. So, I run the risk of shelling out $120, only to still be dealing with potty training in 3 months and needing a larger size. If I were having more children, I might balk less at the cost. But (and I apologize to anyone who lived under other delusions), there are ZERO plans for other Trahans.

Clearly I am not the only mom on the planet realizing the potential margin these niche brands are making on "Potty Trainers". There is another company, Ladder Hill Design, selling a pattern to make your own "Potty Trainers" ($9 for immediate download). The pattern appears to be very functional and allows for customization of pattern, waterproofing, etc. While I admit this seems like the most cost effective solution, it requires that I have free time (which I don't, hence the big gaps between blog posts).

So, hear I sit, after hours of research. . . planning a trip to Target for more "Learning Design" Pull-Ups as a way to forestall my decision making. . . resigned to the fact that I am going to get soaked (literally and figuratively) in this potty training process.

And, as a last comment, could they use another term other than "Potty Trainers"? It implies that, for $20 a pair, those SuperUndies are going to train my kid to use the potty. Inevitably, I still have to put in a lot of leg work. Unless each pair comes with a maid to wash the clothes and scrub the floors plus Mr. Rodgers to discuss how you "know when you have to go", I think "Potty Facilitators" or something else seems more appropriate.

Love, The Trahans

The Little Woman

By now, everyone who reads this blog knows who runs the show in the Trahan household. And, I am sorry to admit it isn't me. It's Hannah. Sure, I get my way because I am the adult. But, it's hard to feel like you "won" a battle with a 2 year old when, in doing so, she ends up screaming/crying/wreaking havoc on your house. It feels more like a lose-lose.

We came home this evening and Hannah announced she was going to "ride her bike". She does it like she's 14 and letting me know she's going to go play down the road with her friends. While we do live on a very quiet cul-de-sac, we also have a very steep driveway and some neighbors who like to circle the cul-de-sac at a fair speed just to enjoy the view. Plus, their is the less obvious fact that, she's only 2 (less obvious to Hannah, but painfully obvious to those of us who care for her). Rather than argue with her, I chose my new favorite response, "Go talk to your father."

Before you take pity on Mike, let me remind you that, Hannah is Mike's "sweetheart" and, in Hannah's eyes, dad is great. Granted, dad is great because he caves to Hannah's every desire more than mom does. Reason number two NOT to feel sorry for Mike: he is leaving town for the next three days making me a single working mom. And, if you are a single working mom or have portrayed one for a short period of time, you know that it is hands down the hardest job in the universe. It is these days that I typically take up my writing campaign to the Vatican to canonize my mother and mother-in-law.

So, while I start dinner, Mike goes outside to watch Hannah circle the cul-de-sac.

He returned with this video.

Maybe the continuous loop of "Olivia" movies that plays in my car has finally affected my sanity. But, there is something about this video that makes me laugh so hard I can't breathe. I think it is a combination of the sweet look of contentment on her face, coupled with how focused and serious she is, looking around as if to make sure she isn't going to hit a squirrel or get hit by another Little Tikes driver (which is unlikely, being that most other toddlers are heading to bed at 7pm).

I will have to remember this tomorrow night when she is screaming at me that she is going to "GO RIDE MY BIKE, OKAY?!?" Sigh. . . if only I had a clone to cook dinner while I have fun playing with the kids. . .

Love, The Trahans

On A Stick

This post is dedicated to my cousin, Krista, and her husband, Jeff, who share our love of food on a stick. . .

Mike and I love fondue. Actually, we love The Melting Pot. If you aren't familiar with the restaurant, it is a fondue restaurant. The food is fabulous. However, it is pricey. Definitely cheaper than Morton's, but more expensive than TGI Fridays. And, WAY more expensive than Friendly's, which, as most of you know, is a the pinnacle in our dining out repertoire these days.

Back in B.C. times (before children, not biblical times, although they may be associate with heaven in my mind), when $100 bought more than four days of after care or one week's gas, we frequented The Melting Pot regularly with our other couple friends without children, Steve and Lisa Klein.

Then came Mikie. Initially, we still went to The Melting Pot because he would sleep while we dined on fondue (the low lighting is perfect for sleeping infants). Then, he slept less and was a whole lot more curious, and all of our favorite restaurants seemed to be less than child friendly. Melting Pot's hot plates built into the table were a problem, although not as big a problem as the mini pitch forks they give you to skewer your food with. As a side note: Sakura's hibachi tables. . . also not kid friendly, unless you want to give your 18 month old nightmare's about fire.

So, we evolved into making fondue at home. Between the Kleins and the Trahans, we had two fondue pots, so we could make cheese and desert fondue without cleaning up in between. And really, you can make cheese and chocolate into a very filling meal. Add wine, and it is the best meal ever. Plus, dining at home (or someones home) meant Mikie could wreak havoc (or go to bed) without making me feel guilty about disrupting other peoples' meals.

Alas, we moved to Massachusetts, and the Kleins moved to Pennsylvania. But, Mike and I have continued to eat fondue at least once a month. And, when strawberries are in season (or aren't in season but look tempting at the grocery store), we eat chocolate fondue multiple times a week. Thankfully, the island has an outlet built into it, so we can very easily set up a pot of fondue without worrying about the kids stabbing each other with little pitch forks or burning themselves.

Until last month (which is really two months ago since I am behind on blogging). That was when Hannah "I will eat whatever you are eating" Trahan decided that fondue looks delicious. Other than the appeal that most food has for our daughter (namely, someone else is eating it), I think she really just wanted to dip food in the pot. With some supervision to make sure she didn't (a) stab herself, (b) burn herself on the pot or (c) leave chunks of food floating in my fondue, she managed to successfully skewer and dip some apples.The verdict: still out. Taking a page from Auntie Katie's book, she thoroughly enjoyed licking the cheese off whatever she dipped, but never actually ate the bread or apples themselves. Once she realized she was expected to eat the stuff that was enrobed in cheese, she lost interest. She spent the rest of the time dipping food and force feeding Mike and I.I'm sure she would enjoy the desert fondue a whole lot more. But, there are some things too sacred to share with my two year old.

Love, The Trahans

Excommunicated

I'm not proud to say it, but, I would be lying if I said we go to church every weekend. And, it isn't because we aren't religious; we tell our kids about God and Jesus and try to raise them to be good Christians. It's because we can't seem to survive a 60 minute mass without disrupting everyone else.

I can hear the doubt. And, I don't blame you. "She's just exaggerating. . . how bad can it be?"

It always starts out well enough. Let's take this weekend. We showed up at church early and were pleased to see a band complete with drums and electric guitar setting up. Huge for our little congregation in rural Massachusetts. Hannah was swaying to the music. Mikie was standing, maybe not reverently, but, still. We made it through the readings to the homily, at which point the deacon called all the kids up to the front. Mikie was reluctant, but, knowing that Hannah wanted to go, played the Big Brother and guided her up to the front. He even participated, volunteering that you needed to eat "Peanut Butter on Toast" in response to Deacon Frank's question, "What do we need to eat to be healthy?"

By the time my two cherubs returned to our pew, I admit I was thinking, "This isn't so bad. We should do this every week."

FAMOUS. LAST. WORDS.

We probably COULD go every week if we found a parish where mass lasted 30 minutes. Alas, I haven't found a Catholic Church that finishes a mass in less that 45 minutes. During that second 30 minutes, which are arguably the more SOLEMN 30 minutes of mass, all hell broke loose. Hannah started screaming, kicking and flailing in that way that makes me look like I am trying to abduct her. We walked out to the vestibule three times that I can consciously remember. The last time, we breezed back into our pew just in time to say the "Our Father". As Mikie pushed my hand away like I had cooties, demanding to know when we could leave, my lips were praying the "Our Father", but my head was praying, "Dear God, grant me patience to get through mass without killing my children."

And, when I thought it couldn't get worse, my lowest parenting moment to date. As the priest says, "Deliver us Lord from every evil. . . ", Hannah looks at me with a big grin, thumps her chest with her little fist and proudly shouts, "I EVIL." As if to say, "hey, he's talking about ME!"

Trying desperately to recover, I said, in a loud whisper, "No, Hannah, you're not evil. You can be a good girl." But, while she may be trouble, she wasn't dumb. And, by this point my body and mind were so depleted that I couldn't muster enough energy to sound convincing.

The rest of the mass was a blur. I managed to juggle Hannah up the aisle for communion, found a few minutes of relative peace to take a break from praying for sanity and pray for other's intentions, and, head bowed, corralled my brood out of church during the closing recessional as quickly as possible. As we left, one of the deacons unconvincingly commented that Hannah "wasn't so bad" and offered her a high five. Hannah's response: she left him hanging, with nothing more to remember her by then her signature scowl.

We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, two kids sedated with "Tom & Jerry" cartoons and air conditioning blasting, trying to recover. Before I end, I feel it only appropriate to explain why Hannah referred to herself as "evil". While I admit to calling her "Trouble #2", I was not the one to come up with the moniker "evil". We owe our thanks to Disney and Mikie. He has become an avid fan of "Phineas and Ferb". Dr. Doofenshmirtz refers to everything as evil. So, Mikie will occasionally refer to Hannah as "evil Dr. Hannah" and "The Evil Midi" (I have no explanation as to why he calls her Midi). I do accept guilt for not breaking him of this habit.

Rest assured, eight years of Catholic school has worked well at instilling guilt. I am confident we will return to church again this year. I just need to find a better way of instilling fear and submissiveness in the hearts of my kids before we do.

Love, The (evil) Trahans