Can I call the fire dept. to get my cat down?

OK. Last night I watched in amazement as our new cat scaled the side of a french door that opens into our family room, sat on top of the door and then leapt onto a pine beam near the top of our ceiling. See for yourself:

I was not only amazed by her feat, but more importantly disgusted at the amount of dust that fell as she walked back and forth across the beam. I always forget to clean up there. After almost 1/2 hour of wondering how to get her down last night, I managed to climb a ladder in my family room, could barely reach her, grabbed her by a paw, scooped her up as she was slipping off the side of the beam...claws out and all. Hubby was working so I had the pleasure of being the hero.

Guess what? She did it again tonight. She's meowing right now. Hubby is working again. Tonight, I'm going to just leave the ladder in there and let her figure out how to do this herself. I can't call the tallest neighbor we know to come help me because if he touches a cat he breaks out in hives. And I don't think the fire dept. would appreciate my call,

"I know it's not a tree, but can you save my cat from atop a pine beam inside my house?"

After yesterday, all the cat experts in my life said,

"I bet she won't do it again now that she knows she can get stuck."

Well, they were wrong!

...She's down. That's right. As I was typing she managed to leap from the pine beam back on top of the french door (yeah, it's only about 2 inches thick). When I heard the rattle I ran in expecting to find her in the middle of our rug in a ball but instead she was slowly scaling down the back side off the door, walked past me with her tail swishing back and forth as if to say,

"I don't need no stinking ladder!"

I just shut the door so there are no repeat performances at 1 a.m. If she can still manage to get up there somehow, then more power to her. Tomorrow, that door gets loaded with sticky tape - I hear they don't like the way that feels on their paws. Watch...mine won't care! Stay tuned.

Dry eyes

When we drove up to the school playground at 5:00 I was preparing myself for the worst. I thought she'd run away in tears telling me she didn't want to leave and then it would turn into a tear-fest for both of us in front of all the teachers and children.

But that didn't happen. Not even close. She ran over to me with a big hug, then turned to hug her best friend, gave her Pre-K teacher a hug goodbye and headed for the gate. That was it. That was the last day at her daycare/pre-K school. We went up to her classroom, collected the items from her cubby, took a few arts & crafts projects off the wall that were hers and headed for the car.

I am so proud of her. She is ready to move on and can't wait to start full-time Kindergarten next week. She is eager to learn new things and meet new friends. Not a tear. Not even one.

I wanna be a rock star

I have a slight obsession with a certain rock star and I think I may be pushing that obsession on my children.

As a kid, growing up in my house meant being surrounded by a variety of Top 40 music from disco to rock n' roll. It was my Dad's job to sell 45's, cassettes and albums (and eventually those funny little shiny discs) so we would always sample the next potential hit on his souped up stereo system and then wait for it to make it on the radio station. "It pays the bills", as Dad would say. We'd sample the latest Donna Summer hit, or the next supposed smash by some band that called themselves Bon Jovi. "Just wait...they're going to be huge." Dad was always right.

And every time the band KISS would release a new album, my brother would rock out. And every time Barry Manillow would croon on the radio my Mom would dance around the kitchen. And every time Andy Gibb came on...well, we can save that for another blog.

But now that I am on the borderline of being a stalker of Matchbox Twenty and their lead singer Rob Thomas, I have inadvertently passed my Top 40 obsession on to my kids. And in particular my son. He has recently exclaimed he wants to grow up to be a rock star like Rob Thomas and is even putting on Rob Thomas concerts in our living room...only he insists on playing the drums and I keep reminding him Rob sings and plays piano or guitar. His response,

"I'm the new Rob Thomas."

Go for it, kid. I'll go to ALL your concerts for sure!!! My daughter has taken a liking to the new Katy Perry song "I kissed a girl." And while I am a HUGE equal opportunity person, I'm afraid that she's going to start kindergarten reciting the lyrics that go,

"I kissed a girl and I liked it. The taste of her cherry chapstick."

Did I mention she's heading to Catholic School?

Repeat after me...

Pewn. Pee-yooning. Pee-yoon. Pewn.

I had NO idea what he was saying so I had to do it phonetically.

Me: "Say it slower."

Alex: "Peee-yooon."

Me: "Again."

Alex: "Pewn. Pewn. Pewner. Pewn."

Me: "What are you calling it?"

After several hundred attempts I finally realized that he is calling the little army tank that his aunt sent from Florida (not my first choice as a gift for a 3.5 year old) a "Pewn" because to him, that is the sound that guns and various exposure to cartoon weapons - that I have tried desperately to avoid - has formed in his head.

So if you say it fast, "pewn, pewn, pewn" he's kind of right. And I'd rather he call them that than walk around screaming "Bang. Bang. Boom. I got you with the gun." so I'm going with it...being hit by a "pewn" is much easier for me to swallow...

Time for change

Over 4 years ago I dropped my daughter off at her first day of daycare and cried the whole way to work. How could I leave her with strangers? Will they know when she wants to be hugged, cuddled or held? What will she do all day with her new friends? Will they know which blanket is hers and that she loves to sleep with her little stuffed dog? The heart ache was enough to have me second guessing my decision to go back to work for weeks.

But within days I saw how happy she was when she entered her classroom and would run to the play kitchen area or over to the book area and was blossoming into a wonderful little toddler. She had great new friends and teachers who always welcomed her with an enthusiastic "Good Morning!" and big hug.

I played out that same heart breaking scenario again when I dropped my son off 2 years later - tears on the way to work and all.

Now I have another round of tears to endure - we are leaving that daycare to move onto new adventures. Abby is getting ready to start kindergarten and her brother will start at a preschool program closer to home. I'm already second guessing our decision to move him and all of those "first day" jitters are re-emerging like they did 4 years ago! I really like this new place, but as a Mother I'm always cautious of change.

So as I dropped Abby off this morning I had to hold back my tears knowing I only have a few opportunities left to chat with the wonderful teachers, joke with the Director and wander through their classrooms looking at their artwork displayed on the walls. We were so fortunate to have had such a great childcare option and I am so grateful for all they have done - I have a feeling there will be many more tears saying goodbye than when we first entered the building all those years ago.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

I have house guests this week. Well, house guests for 11 days to be exact. Growing up we never had house guests because everyone lived so close by that they just went home at the end of the day. This is very new for me.

Since it is my in-laws that are visiting I will resist the incredible urges to blog that have consumed me for days, other than to say the kids are thrilled to have Grandma and Papa for a visit (it's been over 2 years) and hubby and I are enjoying the homemade Puerto Rican dinners AND the built in babysitters so we can go out and celebrate our anniversary tonight :)

However, one phenomenon that has taken place since their arrival is that my kitchen items are playing hide and seek. Just like any other homemaker, there is a method to my madness in keeping all the mixing bowls together, the cups together and plates organized by size.

And while I truly appreciate not having to worry about a dinner menu every night, it is turning into quite an experience trying to find my housewares at the start of each day. My husband never uses our dishwasher and now I know why - neither do his parents. At the end of each meal they quickly gather up the dirty items and begin washing and drying with precision. If I serve more than 4 plates of food, it all gets dropped in the trusty Maytag. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, really!!

It's just that my mother in-law puts things away in places that I never imagined they would fit. A random cup on one shelf when the rest are stored some place else. Bowls mixed with saucepans. Hmmmm...that big bowl really fits in that little drawer?

Hubby and I have been laughing about it as we discover things placed all over the kitchen. She is a very proud woman and would rather find a home for something than to ask where it goes. I'm sure my favorite serving spoon will show up soon. Five more days...

Fast Forward 10 Years

She's sitting on her back on the oversized chair in the living room. Her head is on the ottoman and her legs are arched up on the chair - it actually looks pretty comfortable. She's clicking away on her sidekick, or blackberry, or iPhone - I can't tell the difference - and Coach is spread across her (in heaven) because I haven't kicked him off the furniture yet. He keeps looking over waiting for me to send him to his doggie bed, but I'll let him hang for now.

Within a few minutes she's on the floor on her back doing stretches to prepare for cheerleading practice next week when she starts 10th grade. The sidekick, blackberry, iPhone is buzzing away in her hands, and as she does leg lifts she doesn't miss a beat with her texting skills.

Her: "You know what would be really awesome right now?"

Us: "What?"

Her: "Pancakes."

It's 9:45 p.m. Ahhhh...to be able to eat pancakes right before bed and not morph into a stack of pancakes myself would be a dream.

And while I know this is just my 15 year old niece hanging out for the night with me and her grandparents, I can't help but realize this is also a glimpse into my future in 10 years with my own daughter. The texting, the cell phone calls, the fixing and refixing of the hair and makeup, and the look that reminds you that watching the Olympics with your Aunt and Grandparents probably doesn't rate as the *best* time of her summer vacation, all serve as a reminder that you can't keep them from growing up and need to grow with them through every year.

Reality: kindergarten starts in 2 weeks so I better just focus on that for now!!

Our healthcare system

A primary care physician once said to me it is a good idea to call you doctor on your birthday to schedule a routine check up every year to be sure the parts are all beating correctly and things are working fine. I take my kids every year, without fail, so I thought it to be a good piece of advice.

Until our PPO got involved. Apparently, on our plan, between the ages of 30 - 39 you are only allowed to check your moving parts and blood work once every 3 years (so, basically 3 times over 10 years). You can check the female plumbing every year, but other pieces of the female body have to wait 36 months. When I hit 40, my body will only have to make it 24 months without any issues (I hope) because that is apparently another magic moment in my life. Kind of like when I got pregnant after age 35 and spent every Tuesday of my last trimester at the OB, just to be safe.

So, from now on, I guess I will have to wait until something breaks or clogs up before I can go see a Dr. Kind of like knowing you should change the oil in your car every 5,000 miles but figuring once every 3 years *might* be good enough, if you are lucky.

Am I the only one that thinks something is wrong with this picture? "Congratulations, you are wise enough to take care of yourslef to avoid issues down the road that are much more costly to everyone, but we won't help to cover the costs of your intelligence. Good luck, and let's hope that cholesterol hasn't skyrocketed."

Foolish.

Good luck, Santa

So I know it's hard to believe, but I have begun Christmas shopping!

"WHAT???"

I can hear you screaming it now. But with two kids born in early December, I need to get as much finished as early as possible so I can divide up the goods to spread throughout the month without tail spinning into a panic at Thanksgiving that I have nothing for gifts!!

As some of you know, we went to Santa's Village this summer where my kids met Santa and put in their early requests.

My son told me he was going to ask Santa for a real excavator. You know, the kind that dig up the earth at construction sites. We managed to get him down to a toy fire truck by the time he sat in Santa's lap. My daughter wouldn't share her request, which panicked me.

Santa: "Can you think of anything you'd like for Christmas?"

Abby: "Yup. I'd like Bambi's Dad and Bambi's Mom. But not the soft kind. The toy kind. You know which ones I mean?"

Santa: "OK. Bambi's Mom and Dad, huh?"

Abby: "Yup" (huge grin)

WTF??? I had forgotten that odd request and stupidly asked her this morning if she remembered what she asked Santa for - and as if she was sitting on his lap at that moment she whipped out the same request and it all came flooding back to me.

What is she talking about? And searching "Bambi toys" on eBay and other places is not turning up anything remotely similar to Bambi's dead mother and distant father (for those that have seen the movie!).

At least I can blame it on Santa when he doesn't deliver...I'll be the bad guy when she's 16 and asks for a car and I don't deliver on that one, either!

Have chips; Will eat

My secret to healthier eating is not buying foods that I like, thereby eating less (ok, at least less junk food). Since I do the grocery shopping, I get to decide what goes in the cart. Genius, isn't it? On top of that, I've been blessed with a distaste for chocolate so that has never been a downfall for me.

Potato Chips? Well, that's another story!!

I hosted 3 different BBQ's over the course of the last week and out of courtesy to my guests I picked up 2 of those big BJ-sized bags of reduced fat Cape Cod chips. Oh yea, baby. The crunchy kind. All curled up so you can pop them one after the other in your mouth - for hours - in front of the TV - and suddenly the whole bag is gone. And reduced fat means jack...it's just a justification to make it into the shopping cart!

On top of that, my girlfriend brought a bag of Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper Cape Cod chips - crunchier than the reduced fat and loaded with yummy salt - AND SHE LEFT THEM BEHIND WHEN SHE LEFT!!!

Add some dip to mix - any kind of dip - and I have just blown 8 months of careful, calculated eating in just 7 days. I guess I'll just have to finish off the bags this weekend so they aren't sitting in my pantry screaming my name around 8:15 every night. Amazing what some carbs, grease and salt can do to my stamina.