THE BEST DIET EVER

That's going to be the name of my new book...inspired by the princesses. It is a very simple stragegy that allows you to eat as MUCH as you want, and you still stay thin...

I call it...the Condiment Diet.

Pickles, mustard, ketchup, black olives, green olives--as much as you want, to ensure you fill up your tummy and don't have room for foods such as meat, fruit or veggies. Chase it down by "jug sucking" large amounts of milk and you are guaranteed to maintain your girlish figures.

Delaney started this diet when she was about 2...and she has never given it up. It's insane, the child will eat more olives than anyone could even imagine...At least one jar--the big jar--a week. I guess olives do have "good fat" but she takes it to a new high...

Ryley's condiment of choice is a tie between black olives and pickles. If in a black olive mood, they apparently taste better when you put one on each finger and chase your sister around first. If in a pickle mood, you must be sure you eat enough dill pickles that you reak of dill juice for at least 2 hours.

I am convinced my children have the strangest diet of any kid on the planet. Yes, I know I've allowed them the liberty of this strange diet. It's one of those "I'll never let my kids..." moments for me.

Face it--if they have something in their tummies, they sleep. If they sleep, we sleep. Therefore, LET THEM EAT OLIVES AND KETCHUP FOR DINNER.

Right?

Alas, I encourage you to try your family on this latest diet craze...or it will be, when I write the book, publish it and appear on the Today Show. Don't worry, I won't forget the little people when I'm famous...I'll even sign your book for free.

Only in Columbia...

I love Columbia. It's a pretty perfect mix the small town from which I came and the big city that holds my heart, Washington DC . Keep reading for explanation.

The town from which I come is small...the sign says 1900ish people, but I'm not sure how accurate that is because of all the...immigrant workers that moved there my senior year. It was a great place growing up. We never locked the house, never locked the car--and in fact, kept the windows down all day so it wasn't 3000 degrees upon re-entry. A mama could take a baby to the Friday night football game, someone would ask to hold the baby. He would likely pass thru at least 100 pairs of hands that night, but he would always wind up back with his mama. Our school didn't offer the best range of courses, but it was more than "ok" and we had AWESOME teachers who loved us and wanted us to succeed.

Other parts, well, I just didn't know better. There was no fast food--unless you count Casey's pizza. But on Friday nights, the Pizza Hut wagon would pull a trailer into the gas station parking lot. Not just any trailer, this one was full of pizza ovens so your pizza was hot, fresh and made to order. How did we order? Duh--we called the "phone from car" payphone, where the little man from Pizza Hut sat, waiting to take our order. I didn't realize the humor in this until the King started going home with me...it was a real treat to call the little man and then go pick up the pizza. I still don't see as much humor in the wagon as does he, because it was AWESOME! Pizza and football? What could be better???

No fast food, only two restaurants. One secret of the town...the "other" gas station made the BEST hamburgers you will ever have in your life. No kidding, Booches has NOTHING on Kozy Korner. Don't even get me started about the tenderloins at Gimpy's...or the vast array of snacks at the liquor store that included both pickled pigs feet and pickled eggs (yes, kids were allowed in to buy "pop" after ball practice--it was across the road, after all).

We still visit home several times a year, back to the family farm. I love it there. It's relaxing in a way I never thought possible. Thing 1 and Thing 2 love it there, Thing 2 would be perfectly happy to live on the farm. Not so much the Queen.

Fast forward to Washington DC, which probably ranks as my favorite place ever because it's the one city in which I've spent the most time and garnered the best memories. I love the REC, their Youth Tour to Washington DC program was a huge part of me and it is very close at heart. I spent 5 stints in DC, 2 weeks at a pop.

I love the metro, fell in love with theatre, fell in lust with Long Island Iced Tea, could give you a tour of all the sites, and take you to the best little hole in the wall cafe, Bob and Edith's. I actually craved their open faced turkey sandwiches while pregnant, but I couldn't talk the king into making that run...in fact, he thinks I'm crazy for loving DC so much. He thinks its full of crime and politicians. Yes, it is, but it's just buzzing with excitement. It's beautiful. Many of the people nearest to my heart were there with me--and I still love them all today. I can't wait for Thing 1 and Thing 2 to get old enough to appreciate the wonders of DC. By then, I am hopeful the King will be ready to see DC thru the eyes of me--and he will love it, too.

And then there is Columbia. It's a good melding. Not too big, not too small. I came here for school, met a boy and turned him into a man when he married me. So here I am, calling Columbia home. And there is always SOMETHING to be seen that you would see only in Columbia. In fact, in my ploy to enjoy life, I have decided that I am going to find something each and every day that I know I would find only in Columbia.

Probably the most memorable "only in Columbia" moment came at Gerbes on Valentine's. While shopping for groceries, the boy checking out in front of me had found the PERFECT gift for his lady friend...because nothing says "I love you" like roses, chocolate, and a box of condoms. LOVE IT!

Tonight's journey to the gym did not disappoint me. I did indeed see the perfect "Columbia" site for today. It was a beautiful shiny black new Mercedes, with the temporary "just purchased" paper plates in the back. This gorgeous car was tucked away neatly for the evening underneath the carport at it's new home in a trailer park.

Only in Columbia...why would anyone ever want to leave??

Reproduction

Let me get this out of the way first: while looking for a picture of sperm on the web, I learned that porn boosts sperm production. That made me laugh out loud. Who researches these things? And how? So many things to be said, so little time...sigh...

We have a lot of friends and family who have kids the exact ages as Thing 1 and Thing 2. It was fun to be pregnant together (twice), to swap our birthing war stories (twice), to be experiencing the woes of early breastfeeding (twice), teething, rolling, sitting...and the list goes on and on.

However, this castle is just about the last of "the group" who have not decided on the "third time is a charm" thing. Before kids, I always said I wanted 3. Matt always wanted 2--one for each of us. The day we could not locate Ryley's penis at the ultrasound, Matt suddenly changed his mind--maybe three wouldn't be so bad after all.

And then Rosemary's baby was born.

I will be the first to admit, Delaney was an incredibly easy baby. She literally came out with a smile on her face, slept thru the night at 2 weeks, started talking at 8 months, just super easy going. And having been around babies a lot, I knew this was abnormal in a good way and lightning would likely not strike a second time.

Ryley came out screaming at the top of her lungs, and didn't really stop until 6 months old. She had the 24/7 colic I had only read about in books--you know, the ones you read and feel sorry for the people but feel confident that will never be YOUR baby. The only time she slept was while in the baby bjorn, walking back and forth across the living room. Matt still calls it the man bra. We loath the thing. And since Matt was working while I was on maternity leave, I was commissioned to be the "packer" overnight. On a good night, she would sleep until about 10 before she woke and cried until 3's Company was on--3:30 am. God bless John Ritter.

Take her for a ride in the car you say? Not this one. She hated the car. Cried every time. The whole time. Our first "road trip" to KC when she was a month old had me reassuring Matt at Boonville that she would eventually cry herself to sleep. Nope, she cried the whole entire trip. In freezing rain, so it took 3 hours instead of 2. And Delaney got carsick and puked. And we actually ended up getting snowed in, with nothing on hand. It was a great family getaway.

Needless to say, we have not been so eager to consider a third child. Had Ryley had a penis, we easily would have been done. Or as I like to say, if she had a butt and some coconuts...ha ha! Inside joke...basketball coach from high school? Never mind.

Chances are, since we went from one extreme to another, a third baby would be "normal". And all our friends tell us the transition from 2-3 is WAY easier than 1-2. Which would be good, because I now feel ok saying--I did not handle that well at all. I'm sure it had everything to do with the colic, but SHIT...it was rough. I was pretty bitter toward the baby for a long time. I know that's awful, but I'm guessing if you are reading this, you understand what I am saying. Allow me to say, I would NEVER shake a baby. But after Ryley, I can see how it happens.

So IF we have a baby #3, it should be normal. But that's a pretty big bargain. Matt is not there yet. To be honest, I'm not either--but I'm getting close.

Of all our friends who have babies, they are all perfect little angels. This does not help this baby bug by which I have been bitten. I finally got Matt to admit he has a little touch, too. Combined with the fact that we would LOVE to have a boy, that makes the case even stronger.

Other reasons for #3 include the renovations at Boone L and D and postpartum, the new sleep sacks they give the babies to sleep in, and the fact that the girls are REALLY bugging us for a brother. In that order. And I really do love babies--the snuggles, the smells (yep, all of them), the smiles, the 8 weeks off...

Childbirth and newborns are HARD WORK, but the most rewarding work ever. I secretly love the middle-of-the-night feedings when it was just me and one of the girls. Even Ryley--I still remember how she would hold my pinky finger from day 1 every time she nursed. Sure, as moms, we never talk about those sacred moments--because it's more fun to scare the shit out of everyone by talking about the colic (it sucked ASS), the breast milk-shit that shoots out of the top and both legs of a diaper, how much those diapers and everything else to do with babies cost and the extreme sleeplessness.

And yet, despite all the UGH that goes with a baby--even the colicky ones like Ryley, you have the lifetime love of a perfect little part of yourself. My babies already do things that are NOT perfect and I know it will only get worse, but if you have ever asked me about them, you know I am unable to talk about my girls without smiling. Having a baby is a blessing beyond belief.

Tear.

So this is my mind lately. Last night, I came one step closer to convincing the king we need a prince--over this yet-to-be-conceived child with a penis's name. I went to bed feeling smug. And then God gave me a gentle reminder.

Ryley loves doll babies. As luck--or fate--has it, one of the loud obnoxious ones was left by the side of the bed. In the middle of the night, the damn thing goes off. First it cries, then it's "sucking" and then saying "Ma ma ma ma...gooooooo." I snapped to very quickly, was on my feet saying, "What? Where is it? What time is it?" I am confident Matty headidn't hear any of this. And hell, maybe it was part of my dream.

But in the light of day, it is very clear that it was a message from God.

Thank you, Jesus, for my Mirena implant.

Operation Xyley--Search and Recovery.

This afternoon, the girls and I went to Wilson's Beach Club for Delaney's BFF Kayla's 5th birthday party. Holy geesh...the Von Talge's know how to throw a birthday party! Not only is there the excitement of the pool and the big water slide and all the regular "birthday stuff", but there was a very special guest in attendance...Cinderella! And not just ANY Cinderella, this one did magic and painted faces AND could do balloon animals. It was great--even the boys loved it! So that was AWESOME and the girls LOVED it. Of course, now they both think THEY need princesses at their parties in November, but I'm secretly hoping they will forget. It was great! As we say in my homeland, a good time was had by all, as you can see!
Delaney and Kayla

Delaney really wanted to curtsy with a "real" princess for a picture, but she just looks as if she has to pee.

This is a very meaningful picture of Delaney and her current favorite thing in the world, Xyley. Xyley is a Barbie Mermaid from "Barbie and the Mermaid Tale". She goes everywhere with Delaney. In fact, you likely noticed her in...ALL the pictures above. It's close to an unhealthy relationship, in all honesty. This picture is what we shall call Exhibit A.

Allow me to digress a moment and say I had no intention of swimming today. First of all, I was without a partner--and I was clever enough to go off without the life jackets. And I'm a worrywart around water because the extent of my abilities is the doggy paddle. Secondly, I went to this same pool last Sunday and got the mother of all sunburns. Seriously, my back looks like Freddy Krueger's face. So I really didn't want to take off my shirt in front of a lot of people I don't know--the other parent/party-goers. Finally, I had put a little makeup on the cheeks to cover the acne that will never go away, but I skipped the eyes--after all, I was to have sunglasses on all afternoon. This is what we call foreshadowing.

Back to the pool. Kayla is an incredible swimmer. She was cool with going down the big slide alone. Delaney wanted to go, too. No biggie. But Xyley can't go. So she sits Xyley down to watch--after all, we are at Wilson's Beach Club. Not just any riff-raff can come here.

And that's when shit went down.

Five minutes later, we've been down the slide, slapped high fives and are headed back to Xyley. Mommy realizes before Delaney that Xyley is not where we left her. No big deal, a couple of other little girls had asked to play with her a few minutes and were very nice and all was good. But I REALLY couldn't find her. Anywhere. And then Delaney noticed she was not where she was supposed to be and started to get upset. She was pacing back and forth saying, "I know she must be right around here" and trying to keep it together. And then I heard a terrified Delaney: "OH NO--those boys are throwing Xyley's head!"

Yep, so little assclown had violated Xyely and were--no kidding--playing keep away with her little barbie head. Delaney FREAKED. I was pissed beyond belief. Seriously? Are we at Albert-Oakland pool?

The mama bear instinct kicked in.

"Hey--you little jerks. Where is the body that goes with that doll's head?" Of course, they just "found" the head and had no idea where her body was. "Give me that head RIGHT NOW." Only as I am writing this now does the true humor of this statement present itself... So they throw it and quickly swim away...and in true Hollywood fashion, Barbie's head rolls to a stop looking right at Delaney.

In all honesty, I think the little assclowns felt bad because Delaney was hysterical by this time, screaming "Where is her body? Where is her body?" And then she broke my heart, "This is the worst, most saddest day of my life," as she crumpled to the concrete in defeat, clutching the barbie head to her heart.

At this point, I realize I have to find the body if I want to keep Delaney from permanent damage. Operation Xyley, search and recovery must be launched.

I calm Delaney down enough to convince her she needs to go tell Kayla about the jerks and suggest she prays that God will help keep Xyley's body safe. It buys me 5-10 minutes, tops. I have to work fast.

Once she is safe in shallow water, I realize I've been dragging Ryley back and forth through the water this whole time and I can't leave her alone in the shallow water--she is too much of a water daredevil and I just don't trust her. So she and I start to walk laps around the pool thinking the little assclowns severed her head and left her body on a chair, on the concrete, hid it behind some bags, anything.

Five minutes later, still no body. I notice Delaney and Kayla have launched their own search mission. As a mother, I'm pretty panicked. This is that "one thing" of Delaney's right now. My child is hurting, and of course I want to make it stop. Sure, we can always buy another one, but

I'm known for going great lengths to retrieve what is rightfully mine (aka stolen purse).

As I'm contemplating slapping the shit out of these boys and their parents, I see a glimmer. Could it be? Has God heard Delaney's prayers? And then relief hits me...it's the body of Xyley, the blue mermaid. In one piece (minus her head, of course).

And it is in the deep end of the Wilson's Beach Club pool.

In retrospect, I realize I could have asked one of the lifeguards to retrieve Xyley. But at that moment, the adrenaline was coursing thru my veins and I was not really thinking at all. In addition, I realized how big of a hero I would be to Delaney for a very long time. And I realized that I would be happy to do something as minor as diving into the deep end of the pool to make her heart stop hurting--because one day soon, it will not be possible for me to do much at all to heal her heartache.

I plant Ryley in a chair with very harsh implications for her moving. And I take off the sunglasses and show myself to the world. I think I even heard Olympic music playing in the background during my seemingly slow-motion walk to the side of the pool.

I went in. I dove down.

Mind you, I wear contacts, so I couldn't open my eyes. And while I'm very proud of my first week at the gym, I'm wickedly out of shape. And I hate deep water.

I came up with nothing. Ryley says, "Did you get her?" I ignore her.

I go back down. This time, I would not surface empty-handed.

Operation Xyley, Search and Recovery was successful.

As I swim to the side with the headless body of Xyley, the group of assclowns resurfaced. "Hey--that's the body of that doll's head! I mean, it must be! You found it!" Ironically, it was due north of where they had been playing catch with her head. Imagine that! I considered dunking the kid, but opted for the high road.

Instead, as I dripped around the pool, Ryley in tow, Delaney's face could have lit Columbia with the shine of her smile as she realized what I had recovered. She came running up, head in hand, screaming, "Oh mommy--you FOUND her body!" Luckily for Delaney, I was THE brain surgeon of Barbie back in Milan, not limited to but including the reattachment of heads.

Xyley is now in one piece again, safe and sound. Delaney realized she was missing her necklace, but I told her the necklace was beyond recovery and not mission critical. She's cool with that. More than cool. In fact, on the way home, as she was cradling Xyley, she said, "Mommy, you are a really great Mom. Thank you." Tear.

I guess boys will be boys (aka assclowns and/or jerks by definition), and my daughter thinks I'm a great mom, so all is well.

Maybe I'll train to be a Navy Seal.

What the hell happened to Saturday mornings?

Saturday is my one day of the week to sleep in. And sleep in is only until 7 am these days. And yet Saturday seems to be the one day of the week my darling children wake earlier than any other day.

This morning, it was Thing 2, presenting at 5am asking for Spaghetti O's. Breakfast is an odd time for us. My children are not good breakfast eaters. Not only do they not eat much at all, but they don't like "traditional" breakfast foods. So I'm ok with the spaghetti o's for breakfast--seriously, it's likely better for them than a sugared donut or something like my parents fed me.

But the 5 am thing was brutal. I usually embrace the 5-6 am waking time, but last night I was stupid and stayed awake 3 hours past my regular "bedtime" chatting with a gal pal who is very quickly becoming a favorite. I needed some girl time and she's very funny and very witty. While that should make me feel better about staying up late, I'm freakin' tired. Not enough coffee consumed yet? Perhaps.

I'm feeling a little bitter toward Thing 2. And she didn't even eat the damn spaghetti o's because they didn't have meatballs in them.

Headed to pool birthday party for Thing 1's "bestie" this afternoon. But the queen's rule--we all take naps first. Or nobody goes. Yep, I'm a bitch.